by Ivy Banks
The nurse picked up chest compressions as he continued to bag the unconscious blonde, but his stare fixated on the raven-haired woman who held his eyes.
“She’s got multiple contusions on her head, Dr. Hanover. She’s going to need surgery,” Carver announced urgently.
Weston could not answer, his vocal cords stolen, as he continued to watch the woman.
It is Alexandra. She has returned to me. I knew she would come back.
“Dr. Hanover! What should I do?”
Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stared balefully at the intern.
“Book an OR and page Dr. Beltrand.”
A stretcher was brought into the room and the shocked patient was placed upon it, but she seemed unable to tear her eyes away from Weston.
She recognizes me, too. Can you hear me, my love?
As the staff began to wheel her away, her throaty voice called back to him.
“Lexie. My name is Lexie.”
Chapter 2
It had taken all night to get the catastrophe under control. Two more victims of the crash had died throughout the night and Weston desperately wanted to find Lexie, but every time he tried to check in on her progress, he was called to tend to someone else. It took every ounce of his resolve to finally leave the others to fend for themselves.
She cannot die. She will not die. I have lost her once already. I will not allow it to happen again.
The pale light of morning was beginning to slip through the glass skylights of the hospital, and while Weston was not affected by the weak rays of sunshine, he longed for the cloak of darkness. It was what made him feel safest.
It was almost six o’clock in the morning and Weston was scheduled to be off duty at seven, but he knew he would not be going anywhere until he saw his beloved.
“A girl was admitted into the ER last night with the boating accident. I cannot find her in the patient manifest,” he told the head nurse. “She went into surgery around midnight with Beltrand.”
“Name?” Nurse Carson asked, her fingers posed over the keyboard.
She smiled up at the handsome doctor alluringly and Weston suppressed a shudder. Nurse Carson had a reputation for being a man-eater, and it was no secret that he was top of her list for entrees. She was a middle-aged woman, attractive in a trashy, once-surfer girl kind of way, but the thought of touching his lips to her throat was deplorable.
The thought of touching anyone but Alexandra has only become bearable in the past five hundred years. And she has returned to me. There will never be another woman.
“Lexie. That is all she offered. She was in a great deal of shock.”
The head nurse punched the name in and peered thoughtfully at the screen.
“Alexandra Pointneuf. She’s out of surgery and in ICU right now.”
Weston was already flying toward the A Wing, bounding up the center staircase.
“Great work tonight, Wes,” the chief of staff called as Weston flew past him. “Care to join me for breakfast at the club?”
“I can’t this morning, Charles. I have to follow up with the patients from the crash.”
The Chief scoffed, yelling after the senior resident’s retreating back.
“That is why we have underlings, Wes! They can handle it!”
“Someone has to oversee the underlings,” he laughed with mirth he did not feel.
Charles retorted something, but Weston heard nothing with his vision tunnel-focused on one thing: Alexandra. He did not even know how he had managed to make it through the night after seeing her. A hundred years ago even, he would have burnt down the hospital before being kept from his mate.
Weston had singlehandedly been responsible for saving at least four of the accident victims, but he had no idea how he had managed to do it with his mind so consumed.
The image of Alexandra was emblazoned in his brain and while he worked robotically, he felt something growing in him which he had not felt in literally eons.
Of course, it can’t be Alexandra, not truly. But what if it is…somehow? After all this time, why can I not hope? They share the same name, the same eyes and face…
He used his access card to enter the intensive care unit and hurried toward the nurse’s station.
“Where is Alexandra Pointneuf? Which room?” he asked and the nurse told him.
Without so much as a thank you, he stole through the almost empty hallway of the early morning and made his way to room 40E.
He paused in the doorway, suddenly unable to breathe.
Lexie lay asleep in the bed, her head wrapped in white bandages, her luxuriant black hair shaved off. She seemed to be having a pleasant dream as her full lips turned upward at the corners.
Silently, Weston slipped toward her, taking in her surreal beauty despite the beating her body had taken the previous night.
She will be out of intensive care soon, he thought as he approached. His hands reached for her face as if possessed. He would never normally dream of putting his palms on a patient so lovingly, but this was Alexandra.
Lexie. Her name is Lexie now. You must remember.
His fingertips traced the delicate lines of her face as if he needed to commit her to memory.
Oh, my love, it has been too long. Why have you stayed away so long?
As if she had heard his silent call, her eyes fluttered opened and she sighed weakly.
“Am I dead?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
Weston chuckled.
“No, my lo—,” he corrected himself. “Lexie. You are very much alive.”
Her violet eyes lit up with recognition.
“I know you,” she breathed and Weston realized his fingers still stroked her face, but he could not pull himself away.
He nodded eagerly.
“Yes,” he told her. “You know me.”
Suddenly, a flash of concern flew through her face.
“Why are you touching me?” she whispered, fear beginning to creep into her expression.
It was enough to set Weston back and he stared at her hopefully.
“It has been so long since I’ve seen you,” he told her quietly. “I can’t help myself.”
“You… you are the doctor. Oh my God! How long have I been asleep? Was I in a coma?”
She struggled to sit up, looking around wildly, but Weston gently restrained her, disappointment washing over him like a tidal wave.
She doesn’t know me. She only remembers me from last night as her doctor.
“Shh, shh,” he whispered softly. “You have not been in a coma. You were in an accident.”
Horror overwhelmed Lexie’s fine features and her black eyebrow shot up.
“My friends!” she cried. “Where are my friends? Are they okay?”
Weston swallowed quickly.
“Some of them are fine,” he assured her. “Others did not make it.”
Tears filled her purple irises and she moaned.
“Who? Who didn’t make it?” she wailed. Weston tried to soothe her, his palms against her face.
She struggled against him.
“Why are you touching me?” she yelled. “What happened to my friends?”
“You must not get worked up,” he told her urgently, wanting desperately to press his lips to hers, but he dared not.
“Lexie, I will explain everything to you when you are stronger,” he assured her, but Lexie would not accept the answer.
“I want to know now!” she bellowed.
Ruthlessly and without warning, Weston leaned forward, pressing his mouth to hers. Instantly, he was consumed with a feeling of melancholy so great, it stopped his breath.
It is Alexandra. He had never been more certain of anything in his life. He would know her taste, her scent, anywhere. As his kiss grew more demanding, he felt her tense dramatically beneath him.
“Oh, my love,” he murmured, his teeth gnashing sweetly against her chin, lowering his breath to the hammering pulse in the throat. “I have longed for you.”
A terrifying beeping pierced the air and Lexie began to seize wildly beneath him. Weston jumped back, staring at her body violently thrashing as the monitors began to react.
A second later, a nurse scurried into the room.
“What’s happening?” she demanded, staring at the senior resident who watched Lexie in shock.
“She’s seizing!” he cried, the fog slipping from his mind. “Four milligrams of lorazepam!”
The nurse turned to oblige his request and Weston pinned Lexie to the bed, tilting her head back to open her airways. More medical staff filtered into the room and Weston barked out orders. In seconds, Lexie was still, her heartrate returning to normal. Her eyes remained closed but her vital signs were normal.
Dr. Stanley rushed into the room.
“What the hell happened?” the head of ICU asked Weston. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“What are you doing in here, Hanover?”
But Weston could not respond.
He looked blankly at Dr. Stanley before turning and fleeing intensive care with a purposefully dismissive air.
I cannot lose her again. I will not.
Chapter 3
Every day, Weston checked on Lexie’s progress, but she remained in a coma for days. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to rush to her side and taste her lips again, but he dared not, as he remembered the feel of her body twitching beneath him.
How can my love for her affect her so tragically? He watched her from the glass wistfully. As if she could sense him, she stirred in her unconscious state, but she never regained consciousness.
He found himself falling into a pit of despair, wondering if she would ever wake up, but as time passed, she did not.
I am going to lose her again, he thought one night, as he sat in his penthouse condo. His home was located in the exclusive South of Fifth neighborhood, and he reclined in his leatherback chair, sipping on a hundred-year-old scotch and peering out onto the Atlantic Ocean. Dusk was settling on the sparkling waters, but Weston couldn’t appreciate the beauty of the majestic waves that afternoon.
Why would she come back into my life, only to be taken away again?
It had been two weeks since she had fallen into her endless sleep and hope was slipping from him.
Everything suffered, from his work to his disposition, but he could not shut off the all-consuming thoughts of Lexie.
He closed his ethereal eyes and conjured Alexandra into his mind as he remembered her best.
“Come to me, Weston,” she whispered from the water.
She extended her index finger, calling him forward and the hypnotic haze swept over his body as it always did when she appeared. Her naked body was ripe with promise and her long black tresses teased the tops of her luscious breasts, barely hiding her erect nipples, spilling down to her slender waist.
He did not hesitate. Crossing the rocky beach in bare feet, ripping off his shirt and casting it aside. His pants strewn on the shore, he crashed through the gentle waves toward her, his strong, muscular legs splashing the water about.
Alexandra giggled, extending her arms toward him, and the two embraced. Weston’s mouth found hers desperately and he licked hungrily at her lips, relishing the sweetness of her skin beneath his tongue and fingertips.
She pressed her body against his. Weston felt every curve of her shapely figure. His palms grabbed her buttocks, pulling her thighs around his wide hips so she clung to him like a vine.
Lowering his mouth, sucking back the salty drops of water from her throat, Alexandra threw her head back and gasped in delight. She thrust her chest toward him and he drank in bounty of her breasts.
“Oh, my love,” he purred. “You must never leave me.”
“Never!” she breathed, wriggling herself so his engorged unit pressed between her legs. “I am forever yours.”
Weston filled her then, yanking her closer so they became uniform in their love making. Weston desired to be inside her fully, to be one with her and he thrust himself as far as he could go. The water slowed his frenzied desire to possess her completely and he grunted in erotic frustration, his fingers bruising her tender skin as her held her tightly.
He could bear it no longer and rose to his full height, entwining her feet behind his back and driving through the shallow lake toward the sand where he placed his lover down. Without missing a beat, he buried himself into her ruthlessly, watching her stunning face register shock.
“Oh yes!” she gasped. “More!”
He obliged, his teeth closing around her lower lip, his movements becoming almost violent as Alexandra began to scream out in pleasure, her cries echoing across the water. He felt a welcoming heat on his shaft, his own member at its point of eruption, but he did not slow his primal aggression.
His own groans matched her ecstatic screams and soon they were laying in a sand dune of pleasure and adulation for one another.
“I want to stay this way for eternity,” she told him when she found her breath.
“We will, my love,” Weston promised. “We will.”
His pager was exploding and Weston reluctantly opened his eyes to stare at the device. He was not on call that night, but he was in the habit of never turning off his beeper. It was what had made him such a successful doctor.
What else do I have to live for? He had once reasoned. I only have my work. I have nothing else without Alexandra.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he read the message.
Alexandra Pointneuf on life support. Not expected to live through the night.
A deep sorrow flooded through him. He had asked the ICU nurses to keep him updated on Lexie in his absence and his worse fear had finally come to light.
He was not surprised; the more time that passed, her chances of survival became slimmer. Even if she did live, she would likely be severely brain damaged. Her quality of life diminished with each moment.
She will die again. She will die without ever knowing who I am. How can I allow for this to happen?
Yet despite Weston’s supernatural connection, his medical training told him that there was no saving the love of his life.
I must go to her tonight and say my goodbyes, he thought mournfully, but Weston did not know if he could do it.
It was the witching hour. Barely a sound could be heard in the hospital from the second floor to the rooftop helipad. Even under the bright light of the full moon, the world seemed dull.
Weston stole up the stairwell to the A Wing, each step heavier than the last as he walked toward Lexie’s room.
There was no one in the hall, but Weston was barely aware of anything other than the tortured anguish inside him. He had not felt so vividly or so deeply since Alexandra had died a thousand lifetimes ago.
I have searched for you everywhere until I could search no more. You have come to me, only to be ripped away again.
He stopped in the threshold of the private room, willing Lexie to open her eyes.
You must wake up, Lexie. You must wake up and look at me.
If not for the trauma she had endured from the accident, Weston was sure that she would have remembered him. When she had been in shock, he had seen the glimmer of recognition in her lilac eyes. Their love was connected beyond time and space and he had been waiting for the day when they would be reunited.
He started across the room to her bed and gazed into her pale face with yearning.
“Open your eyes, my love,” he begged hoarsely. “Please. Look at me.”
There was no sound but the rhythmic beat of the machines that breathed for her and monitored her life signs.
She was gone again.
Foreign tears filled his eyes and he leaned closer to run his fingers along her cheeks as he did when she was Alexandra and she was his.
“You promised to never leave me,” he moaned. “You cannot leave me again. I won’t let you go.”
But his words fell on deaf ears and as he continued to stare into her listless fa
ce, Weston swallowed back the burning desire he felt in his heart.
You must not. You do not know what the affects will be if you turn her while she is in this state. It could be catastrophic.
Weston had no way of knowing if anything like this had ever been attempted and despite his almost overwhelming urge to keep her with him, he did not dare.
Instead he perched himself on the edge of her bed, his fingers tracing small circles about the ridge of her nose, the bones of her cheeks, the plumpness of her lips.
“I love you,” he told her, pushing his face to hers to sample her one last time.
One last kiss and I will leave you to rest in peace for eternity. Please come back to me again. I cannot roam this earth alone when I have had a love so pure.
He closed his eyes and pressed himself to her, his tongue gently touching her mouth. A small sob escaped him. Abruptly, he felt a bolt of lukewarm air seep into his lungs. His eyes flew open and Lexie was staring back at him.
“You’re awake!” he gasped, staring at her in wonder.
He willed her not to scream, reaching for her wrist to take her pulse, but with superhuman strength, Lexie yanked his head down to hers. When their mouths met again, a surge of electricity joined them passionately.
Her hands laced through his thick, black hair and she returned his wide-eyed look with one of her own.
“I remember you,” she sighed. “I have waited for you.”
A happiness Weston never knew he could feel flooded through him and he squeezed her body to his, their faces inches from each other.
“Yes,” he agreed. “I have waited for you, too.”
“You let me go,” Lexie whispered, her brow crinkling slightly. “You let me go alone.”
He shook his head vehemently.
“I did not mean to, my love,” he pleaded. “I was too late to save you. When I came back to the village, you were already dead. There was nothing I could do!”
“I am here now,” she told him after a pause, her sweet voice sucking him back into the trance and immediately Weston was lost in her violet eyes. “You cannot let me go again.”