17. Cassidy
seventeen
Cassidy
Torture.
For three days, Indigo tortures us mercilessly. If she’s awake, she’s rubbing that beautiful pussy out, calling our names and rolling her tongue like the devil’s snake she is. If she’s sleeping, she’s bare and unguarded. Her intense perfume lingers, making me double over with need.
We only go to her room when we absolutely need it. Mostly to drag her to an ice bath in hopes of seeing a flash of the old Indigo. Though I’m a fan of the new and improved, I want her fully aware when she begs for my cock. Call me old-fashioned, but I like when a girl knows what she’s doing.
While we wait for a miracle, I am busy drawing another bath. She had a big night. Between screaming our names and burning up with fever, her moans echoed inside my head much later after she went to sleep.
Shaking my head, I turn on the cold tap and sit by the edge, watching Indigo through the gap of the open door.
She’s still sleeping, breathing softly when she’s this relaxed.
I went to the housekeeper again to ask if I could take a couple of sheets with me and change them myself.
She didn’t like it but gave in. Clearly, our charm is running out.
It's not only the situation that is out of control. The three of us can’t last much longer. I’m painfully hard the whole day, and my clothes hang off me, as I can’t remember the last time I ate.
The others aren’t faring much better. Hank is quieter than ever.
He’s escaping within himself, while Nash is always on the phone, arguing with his family of doctors who know what we are doing is madness.
He’s hoping for a miracle, yet none of us has the balls to ask what miracle.
What exactly does he think will happen? Does he wish for her to magically unmatch her scent to ours?
’Cause fuck, this is torture, but so is a life without her.
Ice bath ready, I move to the room and hope I’m strong enough to do this on my own. Nash is out there grabbing more food and supplies, and Hank went to check on the horses. I know we are all suffering equally, but for today, I want to be the one to ease their burdens.
“Indie?” I say softly as I sit on the edge of the bed.
Her eyes flutter open, and I smile. “Hey, Sour Peach.”
She licks her lips. “I never told you how much I hate that nickname.”
I chuckle. “I can read it on your face.”
“So why do you keep calling me that?”
“Can’t a man enjoy the cute scowling of his mate?”
She shakes her head, but doesn’t reply. I forget that she doesn’t like to be referred to as our mate.
The title slips off my tongue often enough.
That’s how I see her. She’s our mate. Even if we never consume the scent-match, I will still and forever see her as my mate.
She doesn’t need to do anything to earn the title.
“I have the bath ready for you. Are you ready?”
My hands reach for her, and I see my mistake when she hisses and curls her foot. Decadent perfume oozes off her, and I close my hand into a fist, trying to rein in my emotions.
“It’s okay,” she grits out. “Just do it.”
It’s not okay for me, but I nod stiffly before placing an arm on her back and the other under her knees. She holds on to me for dear life, frail arms around my neck, and I lift her without a problem. She has not been eating, refusing everything we offer.
Another wave of regret barrels against my chest, and I find myself holding on to her tighter. Can’t we do anything right? I want to protect this woman, but how can I when I’m the cause of all her sorrows? I drag myself to the bathroom, only stopping when we are looking down at the tub.
“You ready?” I whisper against her hair.
She doesn’t reply but nods, eyes closed. With a pain in my heart, I place her into the cold water.
“Son of a bitch!”
She always curses, and it makes me smile. It’s another glimpse of the prickly cactus she is, and I love it. I crave every moment of it.
“I’m going to change the sheets, and I’ll come get you out in two minutes.”
Indigo nods, but again, I’m denied her sass.
It fucking hurts, but I move to the bedroom and get everything changed so she can have a clean bed tonight.
I swallow thick when I come back to the bathroom and find her resting in the bath, head tipped back.
Her eyes are closed, tits almost on display above the water, knees slightly bent. She’s a fucking vision.
“Ready?”
She snaps her eyes open and lifts her head off the edge just to pierce me with a look that makes my knees tremble.
“You need to fuck me.”
Her voice is low and thick with sleep, and I almost miss her words completely. I shake my head. Whatever I heard doesn’t make sense, so I step closer, my ears peeled when I say, “What did you say?”
“I’m serious, Cassidy. You have to fuck me. This thing needs to end.”
Her request goes straight to my cock, of course it does, but I shake myself out of the stupor, refusing to let this get to me. Nash was right. We have to remember our promise to her.
“Let me help you back to bed.”
I lean over to assist her, but she stops me by raising the palm of her hand. “Listen to me, Cassidy. You have to fuck me.”
“Don’t say another word.”
She growls, “I’ll keep talking until you listen.”
I pin her with a look. “We promised.”
“You promised not to listen to me when I’m insane. I’m good now. I know what I’m talking about.”
I shake my head and try to reach for her again, but her hand is still between us, head shaking as she keeps me at bay.
“Tell the others.”
Jesus Christ. Eyes closed, I grab my hair, pulling it out of my head. “I’m not going to tell them and give them hope. It’s not fair.”
Right when I grew a pair and told them I could handle Indie? Then I’m supposed to waltz in there and tell them, just kidding, I’m a little bitch who can’t say no. Yeah, fat chance.
“I was scared when I made you promise that.” Her soft tone does something to me. “I didn’t know what it meant.”
“It means you don’t want us touching you. And we are going to fucking follow your wishes.”
Indigo curses and splashes the water. Her tits jiggle, and I’m an asshole because my eyes go straight there even as her voice is hard. “I made you promise to torture us all! How can we keep this promise?”
Yeah, anyone with a brain knows this, yet I shake my head, ignoring that five minutes ago, I was saying exactly that to myself.
“Indie, please, just let me help you out of this bath and get you something to eat.”
She shakes her head, anger flashing through her eyes, a vivid reminder of her old self. Her hands close over the edges of the bath and she lifts herself, water sluicing down her sculpted body. I groan and bring the heels of my hands to my eyes, refusing to look a second longer.
“You’ve seen me naked enough times.” She shrugs.
“I don’t know who the fuck you think I am, but I don’t get hard when you can barely move.”
My voice is rough with the absolute truth of it all. I might want her when I scent her perfume and hear her calling my name, but that shit definitely dies inside me when I see how much she’s struggling. When her eyes roll behind her head and her fevered body trembles.
Silence follows my statement, and for a moment, I’m grateful. I want her to stop talking about fucking before I embarrass myself and explode inside my jeans again.
“I know you’re not a creep, Cassidy.” She sighs as she wraps herself with a towel.
“Let’s get food into you,” I plead.
With a nod, she follows me into the bedroom.
Instead of the bed, she chooses to sit on the chair beside the small table, something that doesn't go unnoticed by me. Her back is straight, and she makes a show out of drinking the broth I got her. She wants to show me she’s feeling better.
I ignore her point and just keep cleaning around the room, but once her bowl is empty, I know my time has run out.
“The clock is ticking,” she says as if I don’t know. “If you want my consent, now is the time.”
“Why now?” I fold my arms over my chest as if I can stop my racing heart with my own hands.
“I’m lucid now. Between a good rest and the ice bath, this is as much sanity as I will have. Soon, that will be taken from me, and… I’m tired.”
Her voice cracks, and my heart lunges. Before I can stop myself, I’m hovering over her, begging that she doesn’t flinch away from my touch. She doesn't, so I take her in my arms and bring her against my chest.
Her tears soak my chest, and I’m slammed with the reality of the situation. My Omega is suffering. She’s a fucking fighter, yet she’s crying because of what the scent-matching can do.
“Can you please call the others? I want to talk before the heat takes me again. It’s getting worse.”
Indigo looks at me full of hope, and I can’t deny her anymore. I rest my forehead on hers, breathing her in for a long moment before I nod. If she wants to talk, she can talk.