Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Adam steps into the room hours later.
He looks me up and down. I do the same, in absolute shock. Adam looks incredible. All evidence of the HPAW facility has been removed. He’s in fresh clothing—well, fresh for him. His graphic T-shirt is old and faded, but his blue jeans fit nicely.
He’s showered, and he shoves a strand of damp hair out of his eye as he shuts the hospital door behind him.
The skin on the back of his hand remains mangled. It’s the only proof that we were held together in that cell. I was given a fresh change of clothes and forced into the shower, but I still look like shit.
I hate shifters and their advanced healing. It’s not fair.
“Oh,” Adam sighs. “You sad, little chap.”
My stiff muscles relax at the sound of his voice. He popped his head into my room an hour ago, quickly looking me over before retreating. I figure he’s been with Bells.
“Knox is asking about you,” he says.
I curl my hands into tight fists, my nails digging into the sensitive flesh of my palms. I’m not ready to see Caleb. I’m not ready to see his mangled face and broken, limp body.
I’m scared. So fucking scared.
“When did he wake up?” I ask.
“About ten minutes ago.”
“Is he okay?”
Adam steps further into the room. “Why don’t you come take a look for yourself?”
“Because I’m afraid of what I’ll see.”
Doctor Greg told me that Caleb was rushed into surgery upon arrival. I didn’t realize shifters ever needed surgery. They heal so quickly. Doctor Greg and Nurse June have taken it upon themselves to provide frequent updates.
I appreciate them, even if I don’t fully believe them.
Adam snaps his fingers, drawing my attention. Two scratch marks on his neck catch my eye. They’re fresh, traveling from the side of his throat down to the top of his shirt. Bells must be giving him a hard time.
Adam brings his shoulders to his ears, trying to hide the marks. It doesn’t work.
I tap my sock-covered feet together.
Doctor Greg gave me medicine after forcing bread, apples, and water down my throat. I feel better than I have in days. Physically, at least.
Adam frowns. “You can’t hide in here forever.”
“I can, actually.”
The walls in here are textured. I trace the indentations with my eyes. It’s an effective way to keep my mind busy, preventing my thoughts from straying into dangerous territory. I scan my three favorite indentations before Adam steps in front of me, blocking my view.
I shift my attention back to the scratches on his neck, tracing their ragged edges the same way I enjoy tracing the indentations on the wall.
“Get up, Evelyn.” Adam crouches, bringing his face close to mine. “We didn’t go through literal hell in that cell just for you to lose your mind now. Get it together.”
I shift away from him. “Fuck off.”
I don’t mean it.
Adam makes a quiet, affronted sound. It’s a mix between a gasp and a hiccup—utterly unattractive. I’m thrown over his shoulder a second later, my forehead bouncing off his back as he storms out into the hallway. I kick at him for a moment, then go limp.
Nurse June jumps out of the way, narrowly avoiding the bulk of man heading toward her.
“Incoming.” Adam grunts, kicking open the door just across the hallway.
I’ve cleaned this room dozens of times. I know the layout, and I avoid looking at the bed in the center of the room as Adam sets me on my feet. He holds my waist, making sure I’m not about to faint or topple over, before leaving. The door slams shut behind him.
I’m alone, staring at the ground as I listen to the faint beeping coming from the bed.
“Evelyn?”
His voice.
My hands shake as I inch forward, my feet dragging along the floor. My limbs are heavy, like I’m wearing a hundred-pound vest. I don’t want to do this. I really, really don’t.
If I look, it becomes real.
There’s movement from the bed. I hear it, the quiet shifting of sheets.
“Ev…” A quiet sigh. “Look at me, Mate.”
My heart is pounding, and I’m covered in a cold sweat. I need to look. It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever done, and I hold back a shiver as I meet Caleb’s gaze.
His eyes are where they should be—thank God—even if his left one is surrounded by a dark, swollen bruise. The white of his eye is filled with blood, and black sutures travel from the inner corner of his eye to the center of his forehead.
They look painful.
He pushes himself into a sitting position, his arms shaking.
I crumble. My knees hit the floor first, but the rest of my body quickly follows.
He’s here.
He’s alive.
It’s not a trick.
I’m throwing myself at Caleb a heartbeat later. He’s warm, so fucking warm, and I bury my face against his shoulder as my hands latch on to every piece of him I can reach. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.
Caleb coos, cupping the back of my head. “It’s okay. I’m okay,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry for scaring you, but there was no other way. We couldn’t explain until your chip was removed.”
Caleb’s neck grows wet with my tears, and it’s possible that I’m drooling on him. I don’t care. I slide my fingers through his damp hair and over his stubbly chin before finding his shoulders. They’re strong, warm, and—most importantly—moving.
He’s moving. Breathing. Alive.
I don’t feel our bond. The sparks that used to burst to life with every touch aren’t there, making Caleb’s skin feel like nothing more than soft, warm flesh. I don’t mind. I’m too happy that he’s alive to care about something as trivial as a bond.
Caleb is mine, bond or not.
“I told you not to force her,” Caleb says.
I don’t turn around to see who he’s speaking to. It doesn’t matter.
It’s Adam who answers. “She was working herself into a frenzy. She’s better now.”
Caleb trails a hand down my head. “She doesn’t seem better.”
There are a few seconds of silence before Adam answers.
“You didn’t see her in that room,” he says. “This is better.”
Caleb continues to pet me, his movements gentle and repetitive. I calm, the shock of seeing him simmering. It’s several minutes before I have a grasp of myself.
A cotton blanket is draped over us. I peer over my shoulder, locking eyes with Nurse June. She offers me a flat-mouthed smile, then disappears from the room. Adam takes this opportunity to pop back inside.
I didn’t realize he left.
He sports a new scratch, this one on his face.
“I’m meeting with Logan in ten minutes,” he tells Caleb. “Do you want to come?”
“No.” Caleb’s chin brushes the top of my head as he shakes his head. “Fill me in afterward.”
Caleb cups my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones. I finally look at him.
His face is fucked up. He’s still handsome, but you have to look hard to see his usual sharp features. They’re hidden behind swollen skin and dark bruising. Why isn’t he healing? He should be healed by now.
Caleb does a similar evaluation of me, his gaze darting from the injury on the top of my head to what I’m sure are sunken, dark bags under my eyes. Doctor Greg had me pumped full of fluids, but I’m still going to look like shit for a few days.
Caleb taps my chest. “Greg told me you have a nasty wound here.”
“Nasty?” Despite everything, I smile. It feels wrong. It feels right. “Rude.”
Caleb’s eyes crinkle. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He drags his thumb along the neckline of my shirt. “Can I see it?”
I nod, letting Caleb pull my shirt up and over my head. His jaw clenches as the fabric is removed, exposing my chest and the bandage above it. Caleb peels the bandage back, his lips pursed.
There are so many unspoken questions.
“Ev…” Caleb starts.
I shake my head, cutting him off. I can’t do this yet. I need another minute to pretend everything is okay.
Caleb’s breathing is steady—a deep inhale followed by a two-second pause and a slow exhale. I appreciate the pattern, and I count it whenever my thoughts grow too loud.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Repeat.
Am I in shock? I slide my fingers up Caleb’s arm, trailing over the curve of his elbow before traveling up his bicep. His skin pebbles beneath me, but there are no signs of our bond.
Caleb grabs my wrist.
“I’m on a suppressant,” he says. “It weakens my animal form and slows my healing. It also numbs the mate bond.”
I press my lips together, meeting Caleb’s gaze. I’ve never heard of such a suppressant.
Caleb’s lips curl into an easy smile. “HPAW doesn’t know about it.”
HPAW knows everything I know. Without thinking, I bring my hand to my collarbone and press into the small bandage where Doctor Greg cut the chip out of me.
“I…” I begin to say. “I should have seen it. I should have—"
Caleb interrupts. “Don’t. It’s not your fault.”
Guilt suffocates me, weighing me down until I’m pretty sure I’m nothing more than it.
“I should’ve known,” I admit. “They—I should’ve put the pieces together. HPAW is obsessed with chips. I should’ve known.” I stare at my fingernails, picking at the dirt underneath my thumb. “I’m so sorry.”
What else is there to say? I betrayed the shifters. It wasn’t intentional, but I provided HPAW with so much information. They heard everything. They know everything—down to the location of Caleb’s home and our private confessions of love. It’s all my fault.
Caleb slips his fingers through my hair. “You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing.”
His eyes fall to my lips. I shut my eyes just moments before his mouth meets mine. It feels like lifetimes since we last kissed, but in reality, it’s only been a week.
Caleb sighs, tightening his grip on the back of my head to pull me closer. His chest presses against mine, not an inch of space between us. I’m sure not complaining. His lips are soft, and when he cocks his head to the side, I happily deepen the kiss.
I need this.
I slide my hands down his shoulders, curling my fingers around the firm muscle.
“I was so fucking scared, Ev,” Caleb whispers, his forehead bumping against mine.
He trails his lips to my neck, peppering my skin with soft kisses until he reaches my shoulder and makes his way back up. I shiver, my blood pumping. The sparks may be suppressed, but my body still reacts to Caleb’s touch.
I crave him. His scent. His touch. Everything.