Dear Ex-wife, Marry Me novel Chapter 1682

Ian woke with a start, as the evening shadows began to lengthen across his room. He rubbed at his temples, eyes tracing the familiar cracks on the ceiling.

Pushing himself upright, he was greeted by a voice, “How are you feeling?”

It was Beck, his expression a mosaic of concern. Just as Beck braced for Ian to revert to the mental capacity of a toddler, Ian exhaled softly and shook his head, “I’m fine. How’s Maja?”

He could respond coherently and remembered Maja?

Beck was taken aback, then relieved.

“You’re in Greenfield. Maja’s at Greenfield Gardens, resting up for the baby. Everyone in Cania has been searching for you, turning every stone.”

Ian’s gaze swept the hospital room, finding it empty.

“Where is she?”

Maja was his primary concern.

“She’s resting. You’re not in shape to see her yet. I haven’t told her we found you. Her emotions can’t handle the excitement, and I didn’t want to get her hopes up. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

As Ian answered, an itch began to crawl up his throat. It was unreachable, starting deep within him and surfacing like a terrible whisper.

Instinctively, he scratched at his hand, but it was like scratching over a boot – unsatisfying.

A frown creased his forehead as he stopped and turned to Beck.

“What’s happened to me?”

His keen senses had already registered that at one point, he was close to tearing his own skin open to rid himself of the itch.

Beck had finished explaining about Queena’s situation when Ian was about to puke.

“I won’t drink her blood. Lock her up and keep her away from me.”

This craving was a thousand times more potent than any drug, how could he possibly withstand it?

Ian lay back down, “I can handle it. Have Philip and Phil been found? And what about Patric?”

“We’ve got a lead on Phil, which should lead us to Philip. No word on Patric yet.”

Ian leaned back, checking his healing wounds. Standing, he intended to pace the room, but the itching sensation ambushed him from all angles, casting a faint red hue over his skin.

Beck noticed Ian’s distress and moved to help him.

In seconds, Ian’s sweat was rolling down his forehead.

Beck’s heart nearly stopped. It was fortunate enough that Ian hadn’t lost his mind, but now he was still trying to act tough.

“Damn, maybe I should just have Queena brought over.”

The mere thought of blood made Ian nauseous, let alone that of a detested individual.