Aurora's POV
The heavy weight of the night pressed in on us, the only sound being the rhythmic sound of the heart monitors and the steady beat of Oliver's heart beneath my ear. I shifted slightly, my skin sticking to his in the cooling air. The scent of our lovemaking still lingered, thick and heady, but the comfort I usually felt in his arms was suddenly replaced by a sharp, acidic twist in my gut.
My eyes snapped open. I tried to swallow down the sudden surge of nausea, but it hit me like a physical blow. I scrambled off his chest, my movements fast as I nearly fell off the edge of the high hospital bed.
"Aurora?" Oliver's voice was thick with sleep, rough and concerned. "Baby, what's wrong? The silver—did I hurt you?"
I couldn't answer. I didn't have the breath. I clamped my hand over my mouth and bolted toward the bathroom, my bare feet slapping against the cold tile. I barely made it to the sink before I doubled over, my body heaving as I vomited everything I had in me.
