Chapter 19 #3
“It’s a vow I live by, and one I’d rather die than break.
Because of it, I spent many years searching for love.
When I was a young man, I was wildly optimistic.
I used to come in here, look at all the frames on the wall, and feel certain a love match would find me.
I lived every day as though it were the day something amazing would happen.
I was hopeful, my head chock-full of stories like Grandfather and Poppy’s.
“It never occurred to me that love wouldn’t happen for me.
I traipsed through life looking for my mate without a care in the world, and as a result, I affected many omegas.
I dreaded hurting people, of course I did, but I truly believed that it was only a matter of time before I found my mate.
I comforted myself by thinking that as soon as I did, everyone I’d affected would be released from their obsession with me.
But years passed, and the dread grew. I became painfully aware that the odds of me finding my mate were fading.
That the damage I was causing could no longer be justified.
” I clutch my hand to my chest and press hard at the endless ache that still lives there.
“But I had this awful spark of hope, this awful knowing that my person was out there, that just wouldn’t dim.
“I waited for as long as I could. Longer than I should have. I waited until an omega who crossed my path was so badly hurt by my selfish, naive romantic notions that he tried to harm himself because of the despair I caused him. His name was Edgar, and for me, that was it. Hearing what he’d tried to do was the day hope died and I accepted my fate.
“I’d known about suppressants for years by then, of course. I’d discussed the possibility of going on them with my doctor many times. But until then, I’d fought going on them for all I was worth.”
Jensen looks up at me, eyes honey-brown and notably clear of judgment. “Because of how terrible the side effects are?”
I smile sadly at him and shake my head. “No. Not because of that. Because I knew that without my sense of smell, I wouldn’t be able to recognize my mate, even if, by some miracle, we were to meet.
For years, that was the worst, most tragic thing I could possibly imagine.
Then, what happened with Edgar happened, and I finally understood that there are worse things than that. So, I began treatment.”
“Was it very hard, taking the medication?”
“Yes, it was hard.”
Despite being fully informed about the side effects, going on the suppressant was harder than I thought it would be.
Though my doctor tried, nothing could have prepared me for a world without scent.
It was like a dimension of life had ceased to exist. I found myself on a narrow, barren plane where the absence of joy was the only constant.
Many nights, I sat on the edge of my bed holding a blister pack that contained a single tablet in my hands.
The antidote. My doctor had given it to me, explaining that it was for emergencies only, though he didn’t go into detail about what kind of emergency would necessitate taking it.
I’d always presumed it would involve aiding a surprise heat, or something like that.
He warned me that if I took it, going back on my suppressant would be even harder because the side effects are worsened by going on and off treatment.
In the early years, it was the thought of feeling worse than I already did that, despite the desperate allure of respite from how awful I felt, had me putting the blister pack into my top drawer every night, unopened.
“When you think about it, it’s for the best, really,” I say to lighten the mood. “My line will die with me, and no one else will need to suffer.”
He nods thoughtfully, making me think he’s in agreement, and then says, “If you knot early, you’re likely to have girls.” I snort and look at him incredulously. He raises his shoulders and brows in faux innocence. “What can I say, my lord? I hate seeing handsome men upset.”
The little mite. He’s incorrigible. I snort and give him a firm swat on the rear. “Do you flirt this much with all alphas, little mouse? Are you sure that’s wise? I’m sure most of them aren’t as gentlemanly as I am.”
“Pfft, as if you’d be a gentleman if you weren’t on a suppressant.”
“How very dare you! I’ll have you know I’m—”
“And I’ll have you know,” he interrupts, holding a hand up to silence me, “that I flirt with all handsome men, regardless of their designation, so please don’t feel too complimented.”
Despite how ridiculous he’s being, his expression remains so solemn that I can’t help but burst out laughing. While I’m doubled over, he takes the opportunity to shove me out of the way and runs like a bat out of hell out of the room.
It takes me a moment to recover, so by the time I’m upright enough to give chase, he has quite a lead. When I get him in my sights, he’s racing down the stairs.
He takes the stairs two at a time.
I take them four at a time.