19. Jasmine

19

JASMINE

J asmine stood before the bathroom mirror and dabbed concealer on the dark circles under her eyes.

Despite the exhaustion and the discomforts of the trip to Tibet and the comfortable, fresh-smelling bed in a fancy bedroom inside the multimillion-dollar penthouse, she hadn't slept as well as she should have.

The opulent bedroom had felt empty and cold without Edgar beside her in bed, and when Jasmine couldn't fall asleep, she'd opened one of the books he'd gotten for her, reading until her vision blurred and her eyes refused to stay open.

That should have been enough to have her sleeping like a log, but she'd been plagued by strange dreams, or rather, nightmares. Upon waking, she realized that she'd dreamt scenes from the sci-fi movie Stargate , but she'd substituted the prince for the evil, life-sucking creature in the film.

It wasn't hard to guess why she'd had such nasty dreams about the prince. It had started with Edgar's comments, then she'd discovered that the Kra-ell needed blood for sustenance, and the kicker had been seeing the prince's emaciated form inside the stasis chamber.

When dressed and ready for the day, Jasmine stepped into the living room expecting to see her roommates, but no one was there. The only evidence of her companions' presence in the living room that morning was the half-full coffee carafe on the kitchen counter.

The coffee was cold, but Jasmine had no patience to brew a fresh pot. She poured a cup, sweetened it with sugar, and added milk so it didn't taste as stale.

She needed to find out what was going on with the prince.

Bridget hadn't called, which could mean that he was still unconscious or that the doctor no longer considered Jasmine as someone who needed to be informed.

She had served her purpose, and now she was not needed anymore. Should she go back to her apartment and her old job? She'd given in her resignation, but they would take her if she wanted to go back. There was always a need for experienced customer service reps at the call center.

Kian had promised to find her something better, but that seemed like ages ago, and now she was in limbo. She still had the credit card he had given her, but she didn't feel right using it for anything other than buying stuff related to the mission, and that was over.

With a sigh, Jasmine opened the penthouse door, stepped into the vestibule, and called for the elevator. Lifting her face to the camera above the door, she smiled and waved, knowing that the place was monitored twenty-four-seven.

Thankfully, her thumbprint had been inputted into the database as soon as they had returned, so she could use the private elevator to take her directly to the underground level.

She hadn't been granted access to that level before the mission, so it may mean she was now considered part of the team even though her part was done. Then again, she hadn't needed access to that level before.

She first peeked into the prince's room when she got to the clinic. He already looked much better than the day before, and the monitoring equipment readouts indicated steady outputs, a sign that he was doing well.

Or so she hoped.

Her medical knowledge was limited to what she'd seen on TV and in the movies, so it wasn't much. Come to think of it, however much it was, given the sources, it was all questionable at best.

"Good morning, Jasmine." Bridget startled her.

She spun around. "Good morning, doctor. How is the prince doing?"

Bridget glanced at the monitors. "He's doing well. Now it's a matter of waiting for him to wake up."

"So, he's not in an induced coma?"

The doctor shook her head. "There is no need. Physically, he's recovering as expected, given his condition. It's just his mind that I'm worried about." She gave Jasmine a sad smile. "You can sit next to him, if you like, and talk to him or read him a book."

Jasmine frowned. "He won't understand a word I'm saying."

"True, but he might be drawn to the sound of your voice. It's better than just letting the television provide the stimuli."

Jasmine nodded. "I'll do that."

"Do you want me to lend you a book?" Bridget asked.

Jasmine chuckled. "I'm an actress." She tapped her temple. "I have scores of scripts memorized. I can entertain him for hours with just what's stored in my head."