Chapter Thirty-FiveEvan
Chapter Thirty-Five
Evan
A feeling of wrongness tugged at me, and I sat up in Wes’ bed, looking around in the darkness. Wes was right there, a big lump in the blankets, but Grace…
Grace wasn’t in bed with us. Huh. It was still the middle of the night. Maybe she went to the bathroom? After a couple of moments, she still hadn’t come back. I slid out of bed, Wes not moving. That man could sleep through almost anything.
Where was Grace?
She wasn’t in his bathroom. Mine, maybe? No, but it seemed like she had recently taken a shower–and used my scent-removing body wash I used sometimes. Odd. Usually, she used my other one, or Wes’.
“Grace?” I called, checking the rest of my suite. My phone was by my bed. No text from her. No Grace.
Maybe she was in her room.
“Grace?” I knocked on the open door, the stench of industrial cleaning products and airborne scent remover hitting me so strongly it made my eyes tear. “Grace?” I flipped on the light. “I’m coming in.”
Panic at not seeing–or smelling–her coursed through me. I tried to reach through the bond, but it was still pretty spotty.
I searched the room with my eyes. She wasn’t in her bed or the window seat. She had also completely disassembled her window seat nest.
My heart pounded as I took in her room.
It was gone. The little round canopy. The lights.
All the pillows and blankets. Even the books she’d had on the shelf Jett built her this morning.
I opened the window to alleviate the chemical smell of de-scenter.
I opened the bottom of the seat, looking for all the blankets and pillows we’d gotten her.
The bleachy aroma of scent-removing laundry detergent hit me.
Grace had washed everything— and not with the detergent I’d told her to use. No, she’d sanitized them with the other stuff I’d found in there, stripping everything of our scents.
The daybed had gotten the same treatment.
The gauzy canopy and lights, gone. Only two pillows on the bed.
Sheets with perfect military corners–the cozy comforter and fluffy blankets no longer there.
Everything smelled of the same detergent.
There wasn’t even a single blanket on the bed, just sheets.
My throat swelled. She’d taken everything down and eradicated her presence. Then she’d doused the room in de-scenter.
She’d erased herself.
It had just started to look like her room. Now, it looked and felt like a guest room.
Worry coursed through me. I thought she was doing okay. Sure, Brennan had unsettled her tonight. But Wes had comforted her, and we’d gotten her to eat cake and have fun again.
The night ended up with the three of us in Wes’ bed having great birthday sex.
What had happened? Most importantly, where was Grace?
She wasn’t in the wardrobe, or in the place between the bed and the wall–small places scared omegas might hide. Panic shot through me.
“Grace, where are you?” I heard a faint beeping sound. What was that?
Ducking to look under the bed, I spied two bare feet with mauve toenails. Grace was under the bed, in some PJs. Not mine or Wes’ shirt, but actual PJs that my sister must have chosen. She was asleep on the rug with only Mr. Hippo–no pillow or blanket.
My belly sank.
“Grace.” I pulled her out from under the bed, unmoving and lifeless, as panic continued to course through my veins. Something kept beeping.
Her wrist beeped. I checked the monitor. Seizure. Shit. A brief one. The kind we called the doctor in the morning about, not the kind we went to the emergency room for.
She was breathing. But it was shallow. The heartbeat on the monitor was slow. Her temperature was cool, her skin clammy.
Her scent had gone rotten.
Spiral.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My heart sped. Spirals were the opposite of a heat spike–when hormones rose as an omega’s body prepared to go into heat. A spiral was a sign that hormones were drastically dropping–or out of whack.
It could also be dangerous. I should know. It happened to me a couple of times when dealing with Caroline and the aftermath. One of those times was bad enough for me to go to the hospital.
“Peaches, are you okay, can you hear me?” I asked, trying to wade through my panic enough to care for her.
She made a little noise, but she didn’t nuzzle me like usual or open her eyes.
What did I do?
Safe. The first thing I needed was to get her feeling safe.
“I’ve got you. Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.” I scooped her up and carried her out, making a mental note to get someone to make that door between our rooms now . She liked my bathroom better anyway and I didn’t care.
We went through my suite and into my bedroom. I grabbed my phone, then brought us through the closet and into my nest, closing the door, and turning on the salt lamp, giving the tiny, cozy room a soft glow.
“I’m going to let you come in here with me until you get nice and warm, okay?” If she didn’t feel safe in Wes’ bed or her own room, maybe she’d feel safe here with me.
She made a little mewing sound as I tucked her into my messy nest. I took off my shirt and put it on her, removing the bleach-smelling pajamas. Grabbing my phone, I texted Wes.
Me
Grace is spiraling. Need you.
Hopefully, Wes’ phone was on–or he’d feel us. I could handle her myself for now, but eventually I’d get her to the point where she’d need him.
After this, we’d both need him.
Drawing her onto my bare chest, I covered her with everything–blankets, pillows, clothes, all things filled with scents that would comfort her and keep warm.
“There you go. You’re nice and safe here with me. It’s just us. No alphas. You’re safe and I’m right here,” I whispered, curling around her clammy body, marking her with my scent.
Her heartbeat remained slow, breath shallow. I whispered to her, snuggled her, ran my fingers through her damp hair, and purred, trying to pour all my love into her. I let her know that she was loved and wanted. That I saw her. That I needed her here with us.
Wes didn’t come. I texted him again. I didn’t want to leave her to get him, but I didn’t want to bring her out yet.
“Come on, Peaches, you’re going to be okay.” I rubbed her back, trying to keep my own panic at bay. While she hadn’t gotten worse, she wasn’t all better.
“Evan, Evan, are you in here, what’s wrong?” someone called.
Wes?
“Evan, I’m coming in,” Brennan said from my bedroom. A moment later, there was a rap on the door. “Are you in there, what’s wrong, what do you need?”
Not Wes. But part of me was happy an alpha had come.
“I don’t know.” It came out raw and rough. At this moment, I didn’t. Where had we failed her?
“Okay. Can I come in?”
“You can open the door and sit in the doorway.” I wasn’t ready for him to come in, but I wanted, no, needed, to hear his voice.
The door opened, and he sat in the doorway, wearing only briefs.
“Did something happen? Do you want to join Jett and me?” He sounded sleepy, but it was still the middle of the night.
“Grace is spiraling.” My voice broke. She erased herself. We failed her.
“Grace.” His voice went sour, his scent bitter. “Grace is in here with you? No wonder it smells gross. Can gammas even spiral?”
“Do you understand what gammas are?” My voice went tart, tired of his attitude.
“They’re failed omegas, aren’t they?”
“Do you know why they failed , versus being a beta with dormant omega traits, or an unawakened omega?” I pushed, needing him to understand.
He made a face. “Genetics?”
“Sometimes. Most times, it’s the environment,” I told him, still stroking her hair.
“At some point the body literally stops the process of becoming an omega–usually because of a lack of resources or because something tells them that it’s not safe .
Considering the situations I’ve seen omegas raised in, can you imagine what must happen for a little body to go Shit, it’s too dangerous to do this and halt a genetic process? ”
“Are you saying that if you love her enough, she’ll suddenly become an omega?” Sarcasm laced his voice.
I kissed her forehead. No matter what, I still loved her. “I think it’s way too late for that.”
Sometimes it happened. But from her medical records, it wasn’t likely–or could take a long time.
“Oh.” He frowned a little.
“The best way to interact with a gamma like her, a textbook gamma, is to treat them like an omega but don’t expect them to react like them. Do you know why?” I asked, still stroking her hair and snuggling her little body.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Because their danger response is fucked up. Instead of fight or flight, they can get stuck on random because their body thinks surprising their attacker is the best choice. So, they do things like slap alphas.” Which we needed to be aware of. She wasn’t going to act like we’d expect.
“And kiss omegas in front of their alphas,” he grumbled.
“That was her being a brat. I’m here for bratty Grace.” It was also probably a fucked-up danger response, but I felt like baiting him. Would it hurt for him to be nicer to her?
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Annoyance came through the bond.
“She’s spiraling. Like I used to.” I held her tighter, not knowing what else to do. Her heartbeat and breathing were better, but she was still cool and clammy.
“But what does that even mean, we’ve given her everything, so she–”
“Go look in her fucking room and tell me what you see,” I snapped, angry that my words were doing nothing . “Then wake Wes’ ass up. He’s not responding to my texts, and obviously he’s so fast asleep he can’t feel that something is wrong.”
“I felt you, which is why I’m here in the middle of the night. I’m your alpha, tell me what you need,” he growled.
“You are my alpha, but you’re not hers.” I pulled her to me protectively.
“Well, of course not,” he snapped.