FENN DRAX #2
Thankfully, neither of them comments on it, at least not in front of Dr. Lee. So we leave, or rather, my bed rattles out on its wheels while Marlow walks beside me, still holding my hand. They don’t say a word, although I catch them exchanging looks that seem equal parts pity and amusement.
This time we don’t go through the promenade because Elevator A2 has been repaired. We head straight to the corridor where my room is located. Wilhelm unlocks the door with a code and then says to Marlow, "Punch in code thirty-nine when you want to leave."
Reed pushes my hospital bed inside and rolls it up beside my regular bed. Even with the discomfort from the dressing on my hip, I don’t want his help. I slide off the gurney onto my own bed by myself. The entire time, Marlow never lets go of my hand.
Reed throws us a contemptuous look, takes the bed, and the two of them leave. The door closes behind them with the familiar electronic beep of the locking mechanism.
The last look Wilhelm gives me is pretty telling. He probably thinks I’m about to get laid.
Then suddenly we’re alone.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, Marlow standing beside me, and I’m still holding his hand.
Our eyes meet, and I decide to do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.
Slowly, I lift his hand to my lips and press a kiss against it, a kiss filled with gratitude and maybe even adoration, because that’s the closest word I can find for what I’m feeling.
But I don’t pull away afterward. I close my eyes and simply enjoy having him near me.
My lips move unconsciously across his skin, leaving gentle pecks along the back of his hand, affectionate kisses colored by something else growing inside me, a strange hunger for even more closeness.
I hear his heartbeat pick up subtly. I don’t want to look up yet.
Without really thinking about it, I wrap my free arm around his waist and draw him in.
He doesn’t resist, and before long we end up in a position where I’m sitting on the edge of the bed and he’s standing between my legs while I press my face against his stomach.
I can’t remember the last time I hugged someone, or that someone hugged me. Maybe my dad when I was a child.
"This feels so good," I whisper, still hiding my face in him. His scent, or rather the scent of the cherry blossom products he uses, fills my nose. His pheromones are blocked, of course, but I have my own ways of sensing past that barrier, and I know that he and I share something unusual.
"Thank you for giving me this. For the hug," I mumble.
Marlow doesn’t answer, but his free hand rises and slides across my back, then up the nape of my neck before threading gently into my hair.
A sweet shiver runs through me, so intense that a soft groan escapes my throat.
My entire body fills with a wave of pleasure, balancing right on the edge of bliss.
"Fuck… that feels good," I whisper. "Please don’t stop."
My own free hand begins moving along his back, tracing the line of his spine before settling in the dip above his ass.
The motion is almost like petting a cat, long, steady strokes up and down.
We stay like that, pressed together, our hands moving gently over each other's bodies. After a while, a new scent reaches me, faint but unmistakable. At the same time, I become aware of something nudging lightly against the upper part of my chest, something that definitely wasn’t there before.
Marlow is hard.
Oh. Wow.
The realization nearly steals my breath.
Earlier my pheromones didn’t seem to affect him at all, but maybe my closeness does?
My own arousal, already pretty high, spikes immediately.
I turn my face slightly, lift his hand again, and kiss the inside of it this time.
Kissing the back had been gratitude. Kissing the palm is hunger.
I leave several bold open-mouthed kisses there.
Still, Marlow doesn’t stop me.
Growing more daring, I move my mouth down toward his wrist, instinctively searching for the small scent glands ABOs have there.
And that’s when I make a mistake.
My lips brush against scars.
I pull back and look down at his wrist. Several scars run across the skin, the kind that leave no room for doubt. They’re lengthwise, not sideways, the kind clearly intended to make the bleeding harder to stop.
A deep shock and sadness wash over me as I realize Marlow must have attempted suicide in the past, maybe more than once.
Unfortunately, Marlow notices where I’m looking. He immediately withdraws his hand from mine and takes two quick steps back. The sudden loss of that incredible closeness feels like having the air punched out of my lungs.
Our eyes meet for the first time in several minutes since I pulled him against me.
I stay silent because I have no idea what to say. This is something private, painful. Asking questions would be insolent. We barely know each other. It would be crossing a line I have no right to cross.
"I should go," Marlow says suddenly, his voice strained, and he turns away.
"Please, no," I blurt out, sounding desperate. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—"
I trail off because I’m not sure what exactly I shouldn’t have done. Hugged him? Kissed him? Told him how much his presence means to me? Or stared so openly at those scars?
"Rupert’s probably wondering what happened to me," Marlow mutters, though he doesn’t sound very convinced.
"Rupert," I repeat, swallowing hard. So now I know his name. "Your vector."
A moment passes before Marlow slowly nods.
"Please don’t go yet," I say quietly. "Please."
Silence fills the room.
Marlow hesitates visibly while my gaze drifts over him.
He has an attractive build for an alpha, tall and lean, with broad shoulders, a flat stomach, and narrow hips.
He’s wearing black skinny jeans and a mint-green tank top.
His skin is pale, though faint freckles dust his forearms, something common among people with reddish hair.
I notice his nails are painted a pale translucent green. Altogether it creates a strangely harmonious picture.
"You… you’re a varia," I blurt out.
Once again he slowly nods. He’s still standing there, biting his lip.
There's a silence hanging in the air, and I know his thoughts are racing like startled deer, uncertain which way to run.
I can just tell he's struggling to find the right words to explain it to me, or maybe he's wondering whether he should say anything at all.
Then suddenly he speaks in a strained voice.
"Inside, I’m an omega, Fenn. This body isn’t all that I am.
I spent years struggling with my identity, trying to find my place in the world or someone who understood me.
A few times I ended up in some very dark places.
Places where I couldn’t see a way out anymore.
The last time was about six weeks ago. It was a close call, but my brother-in-law used his influence at the hospital to save me.
Blue Lowen, you probably heard about him.
Then he helped me enroll in this program as a last resort.
I’m a mess, Fenn. A total mess. This program felt like a chance, but I think I was wrong.
I convinced myself a miracle might happen, but—"
He stops.
I stay quiet. I don’t want to interrupt with opinions or judgments, and definitely not to add more doubts.
I’m honestly shocked by how much he revealed in that short confession. Suicide attempts. Loneliness. Feeling trapped with no way forward. Being at his limits.
"Why are you losing faith in the program? I heard the results have been pretty good," I say, though I’m not convinced myself.
I know Blue Lowen, of course. I spent time in his facility before, first on Calsing Island, then in his own version of the AA program. And even he, a famous scientist and genius, couldn’t replicate my gift. There's a reason for it.
My secret.
Silence hangs between us.
Eventually, Marlow speaks again.
"I think I believed in it more when Blue was running things. But after the program got shut down and Welrun took over, I don’t know… I have a hard time putting my faith in the brilliance of Dr. Lee and Dr. Lomax."
"Who knows. Dr. Lomax seems like a doctor straight out of a nightmare, but apparently he’s a brilliant scientist. He’s not even forty yet and already runs the entire facility," I say with a faint, unconvincing smile.
"Still… there’s another reason I’m not sure any of this is going to work. I made a mistake coming here. I was so desperate that—"
Marlow stops again.
Then he takes a step backward. Another one. He rubs a hand across his forehead.
"I really need to go back. This is something I have to deal with myself. My own mistakes," he ends on a vague note.
Then he heads for the door, and I don’t have the courage to stop him. How would I even do that? What could I possibly offer that would make him stay?
He’s already helped me more than I ever deserved. I can't bring myself to ask for more, even though I want to. Dear Fate, I want to so badly. I desperately search for words, but what can a beast possibly say to a beauty?
Pick a rose from my garden and stay in my castle?
Well, one thing’s for sure.
I can’t expect him to stay here, since it’s not a castle, but a damned dungeon.