Chapter 4
Claire
I’m a chicken and I don’t leave my room once during embarkation. I called to have room service bring me food and spent the time unpacking my things.
I dodged all my parents’ calls and instead voice messaged them back, letting them know I’m safe and that I’ll be in touch. Seems like a mixed bag of who’s happy and who isn’t about me being here, but they’ll get over it.
Maybe their frantic calls had me second guessing myself, or the fact that I couldn’t muster up the courage to go and mingle. I’m usually outgoing and I have no issue talking to anyone. I enjoy going out. But I think I just need some time to settle.
My heat is on the horizon and being in a new place is hard for me. It’s okay to give myself grace.
I felt fine all day. I ate most of my meal, but as the sun goes down, it seems like the ship is picking up serious speed.
A wave of nausea rolls through me and I lie on the bed, but that just seems to make everything worse.
“Fuck,” I groan, standing up and going out to the balcony, which doesn’t help. Instead, it draws my focus on the way the waves are crashing against the ship.
Axel’s words about our trip to Greece fill my head, and I feel like having a breakdown. What if I can’t stomach this—literally—and I’m seasick the whole fucking time?
I refuse to go to the infirmary on night one. It’s mind over matter, right? I’ll just go up to one of the upper decks where I can’t see the water and I’m more centered on the ship.
When I reach the elevators, the security guard’s brows furrow. “Is everything alright, Miss S?rensen?” he asks, and I’m shocked he knows my name.
I wonder if all the security has been given a rundown on the Omegas on board, even if they had, his ability to recall my name is impressive.
“Claire, please call me Claire. Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m just going to get some fresh air.”
He gives me a nod. “Just remember, you have the app and your bracelet if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I say as the elevator opens and I cling to the side, trying to not throw up.
Is this my karma for not thinking anyone in Manhattan was good enough? Is this a sign from the universe that this is a horrible idea?
The elevator doors open and I get out. I take a few steps, realizing I’m on the wrong deck. I was supposed to go to a different deck level. This is the running track that loops around the whole ship, not the pool deck.
I cough and then it all goes downhill from there as I grab on to the edge and vomit. I cling to the railing as I spill the contents of what was a very tasty dinner.
At least no one is around to see my embarrassment. I feel like a thick gust of wind might blow me over as I look at the dark depths of the ocean. A cool breeze blows against my face, and it feels nice.
I rest my cheek against the railing as my stomach rolls again. This time when I throw up, I feel empty, but there’s still a churning in my gut.
I’m on my tiptoes hanging on to the railing for dear life. After a few deep breaths, I melt down the glass wall and sit on the floor, pressing my palm against my forehead. My skin is clammy, and I feel shaky after emptying my stomach.
There’s no way this first night can get much worse.
“Do you need help?” a deep voice says, startling me.
I actually yelp as I use my wrist to wipe away my mouth. Especially when I look up at the massive stranger standing before me. He’s fucking huge, shirtless, and sweat is rolling down the expanse of his chest with the perfect amount of chest hair.
I just blink at him for a moment. Am I hallucinating too?
He crouches next to me, and I’m hit with the most comforting scent I’ve ever been around. It’s a nauseous girl’s dream as lemon and ginger wrap around me.
My stomach stops gurgling as he stares at me.
He clears his throat. “Not feeling well?”
I shake my head, and he doesn’t even ask me another question. The behemoth of a man just scoops me up in his arms. The side of my face is pressing against his large, and very sweaty chest.
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
He carries me effortlessly to the elevator, cursing as he tries to get it to go. I hold out my wrist so it can activate, and he squints at the listed decks and what’s on each one.
“Do you know which deck the doctor’s office is on?” he asks me.
“Dunno,” I say as I lean in and take a deep whiff of this Alpha. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything about it, just letting me smell him to my heart’s content.
He must figure it out as the doors open, and he hits a deck number.
“You shouldn’t have been out on the running track by yourself late at night like that,” he says, barely shifting me in his arms. “You could have leaned too far over the edge and fallen over.”
This Alpha is a dramatic one; there was no way I could have fallen overboard with how I had to stand on my toes to heave over the edge.
As he holds me, all the seasickness is washing away. This Alpha is human ginger ale, and I’m not sure that’s something I ever knew I needed.
“I thought I was going to the top deck. I was going to try and be outside in the middle of the ship,” I try to explain.
His dark brows furrow and he shakes his head, unhappy with my answer.
“I’m feeling better now, anyway. I can just go to my room.”
“No,” he says gruffly, with no option for arguing, and the sound of it does something to me. Maybe it’s because I’m not told no very often, or because he’s insistent on making sure I’m okay.
Either way, he’s a stranger, and he can’t tell me what to do.
“No? You’re telling me what I can and can’t do?”
“Since you were making a bad decision, yes, I’m telling you what you can and can’t do,” he says as the elevator opens and he carries me into the doctor’s office.
My mouth gapes at his statement, and I’m not really sure what to say back, so instead I keep my mouth shut.
Since it’s a cruise dedicated around Omega’s heats the amount of medical staff is intense, and they see me right away.
The bossy Alpha places me down on the exam table, the paper on the table crinkling as I sit. I bite my lip as he steps away and I get a good look at him.
I mean, I was literally just resting my face against that massive chest, but goddamn. He’s all Alpha, broad, tall, and big.
It doesn’t hurt that I’d like to bottle up his scent and rub it all over my sheets right about now; it seemed to soothe a lot of the motion sickness I was having.
The doctor scans my wrist as the Alpha stranger starts speaking in his deep timbre.
“She was sick on the running track. I saw her throw up at least three times.”
I grimace. Here I am ready to write sonnets about his scent and how he has the perfect amount of chest hair, and I’m the Omega he watched throw up—at least three times.
“Are you prone to seasickness, Miss S?r—”
“Claire,” I correct him quickly. “I thought this was something I outgrew.”
I’m embarrassed as I say it, and the stranger takes one extra step closer to me. Maybe my body gives me away when I involuntarily lean toward his scent.
“Have you taken anything for the seasickness?” the doctor asks, as he types away on his tablet.
“No.”
“No worries. We have a few things we can give you. This one may make you sleepy. I’ll give you a week’s worth and you can come back if you need more. Heading down the Atlantic coast is one of the worst parts of our trip,” the doctor says.
He hands me the medication.
“What about the patches and those pressure things?” the Alpha asks.
“There are a few studies—” the doctor starts and the Alpha waves his big palm.
“Do you have them?” he asks.
The doctor clears his throat and nods.
“Then give them to her,” he says simply.
If I didn’t feel like shit, I’d think his no nonsense tone might have me perfuming like crazy.
The doctor scoots out of his chair and goes to a cabinet, scanning his badge. He hands the Alpha—not me—the bracelets and a package of something else.
The man doesn’t hesitate, using his teeth to open the packaging for the bracelets. When I don’t automatically hand him my wrists, he takes one in his hand and slips one wristband on, before doing another. They’re hideous, but if it helps, beggars can’t be choosers.
I fully expect him to hand me the other packages, but he opens it, peeling a brown dot off a sheet, before shifting my hair and placing it behind my ear. He does the same thing on the other side.
Meanwhile, I sit there like a shellshocked Omega who’s never been around an Alpha before.
No one besides my parents has taken such good care of me. I think his scent, or the fact that he’s still shirtless, has rendered me speechless.
“Is there anything else?” he asks the doctor, who shakes his head, handing him the pills.
The man shoves them in his pocket and instead of asking me if I can walk, he scoops me up in his arms again and walks me down the hall.
“Which floor is yours?” he asks.
“Twelve. I can walk,” I say.
“No,” he says, and I think it might be his favorite word.
We use my wristlet on the elevators delegated for Omegas. Confined in the small space, surrounded by his comforting scent, has me relaxing, almost all the nausea dissipating on its own.
I swear I don’t mean to do it, but I nuzzle against his peck and the muscle twitches.
“Sorry, your scent is just very comforting. I don’t even know if I need the medication,” I say.
“You will take the medication.”
I sigh as the door opens. The security guard looks perplexed.
“He’s fine, he’s with me. I mean, obviously.” I wave my hand at him carrying me.
“Right. Going to need to scan your wrist, sir,” he says.
The Alpha who’s carrying me around like it’s no big fucking deal, who I still don’t know his name, carries me to my room.
He doesn’t seem shocked by the suite, and I wonder if he purchased the same category.
He brings me down to my bed, before disappearing to grab water out of the mini-fridge.
The small amount of time he leaves me has my stomach flipping.
I groan, grabbing a pillow and clutching it against myself.
“Here,” he says gently, holding a pill in his hand along with the water. I take it, trying not to gag on the pill as I swallow.
He’ll be gone soon and I’ll be back to being miserable.
“My scent helps?” he asks, his dark brows furrowed again. I want to take my finger and drag it down his forehead and smooth them out.
I clear my throat, and think about how my parents would probably be filled with horror, knowing I have a complete stranger in my room. There’s no way I could ask him to stay? Right? That would be wildly irresponsible?
“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he says.
“Oh, you don’t have to. But I mean, if you want to. You should at least lie down and be comfortable,” I suggest, grateful that he brought it up and I didn’t have to.
Is it a ploy to get his scent all over my sheets, maybe? But he doesn’t need to know that.
I scoot over and he lies down, very stiff and almost uncomfortable. I consider rescinding my invitation, but the thing is, I don’t want to, so I don’t.
There’s a long silence before I lean over and put my white noise machine on.
He watches me intently and I know it’s going to take me a while to fall asleep.
“Thanks for helping me. My name’s Claire, by the way.”
“Forrest,” he replies and I shiver. “Are you cold?”
“Uh, yeah,” I lie. Because what am I supposed to say? I’ve been on the hunt for an Alpha for years now and on the first night of the cruise I’m the most affected I’ve ever been outside of the one Alpha who wants nothing to do with me?
No, because that would make me sound endlessly desperate and I think my first impression has already been pathetic enough.
He grabs the blanket and covers me even more. I wonder if we’re supposed to make small talk; I mean, I definitely didn’t think the first Alpha I brought back to my room was going to be comforting me to not throw up.
I definitely thought there would be a lot of slick and knotting involved, but something about this feels more real.
“Go to sleep, Claire,” he says while his big giant hand pats down my hair.
Maybe I perfume, maybe I don’t, I’ll never admit it anyway.
By the grace of his miracle scent, the medicine working its way through my body, and copious amounts of comforting petting, I fall asleep.