Chapter 22 Dying. Dying. Dying.
Dying. Dying. Dying.
Ondine
Sabbies holds me close to him and breathes me in.
I’m so relieved he’s here. His phone rings, and he lets me go to answer it.
I take my arms off of him and wrap them around myself.
I’m pretty good at self-soothing. I tap my hands on my elbows, back and forth, and breathe deeply.
The omega in me needs an alpha, especially now.
A safe alpha. But I’m not even sure that’s a real thing.
A mass forms in my throat, and I can’t swallow it down.
I shiver. I can’t tell if it’s cold in here, but my teeth are chattering.
Oh, it’s probably adrenaline.
I remember when Sebastian told me that after Jake had attacked Shadow.
Where is Jake?
“Where’s Jake?”
Sabbies is on his phone, talking to people and pacing around me.
My stomach cramps.
No. No. No.
Sweat drips down my forehead into my hairline.
No.
I know exactly what’s happening. It’s been happening my whole goddamned life. If I had anyone at all watching out for me, they would have told me what was going on much sooner. I used to just think it was the flu.
Here’s a fun fact: there’s actually no such thing as a beta transforming into an omega.
She was an omega the whole time, just repressed.
It can happen for a hundred different reasons.
Whatever my reasons were, who knows, but I’ve been an omega my whole life, which means I know exactly what it feels like to have bond sickness.
I didn’t know what it was until college, when the campus clinic was confused why a beta was showing signs of bond sickness. They were the first to propose the idea that I might actually be an omega. Until I perfumed—I didn’t believe them.
All the blood rushes out of my feet and hands, leaving them empty and cold. Everything is tingling, and fear is rushing into the space left behind.
My stomach cramps again, and I whimper.
I can’t go through this again.
“Where’s Jake?” I whimper again, and Sabbies finally looks over to me.
“God, Ondine, you look white as a ghost,” he says.
He meets my eyes, and something clicks.
He reaches for me, but I pull away. My insecurities rear their nasty head. He doesn’t really want me.
My chest tightens like a heart attack.
It’s one thing to go through bond sickness alone. Or surrounded by beta college students. It’s another to have an alpha in front of you. I desperately try to breathe a full breath, but nothing goes through.
Bond sickness can kill an omega.
Am I going to die?
I think of the series of events that lead me here.
Shadow denying me. Sabbies ignoring me for weeks.
Jake offering me only him and not his pack.
Having all those alphas smell me. All the words Man-ho said.
As much as they didn’t hurt me, they still hurt me.
Having to push back on the alpha influence.
It’s too much. I’m not designed to handle any of this.
An omega should be loved and cherished. They should be spoiled. They should be indulged. Touched. Fucked. Treasured. I don’t even have a nest. My throat cramps from trying to suck in a breath.
I can feel my heart beating erratically.
“Ondine!” Sabbies shouts and tries for me again. Tears track down my face.
A woman from the club staff comes up to the two of us. I can hear her, but it’s like she’s far away. “She’s an omega? She looks like she’s having bond sickness.”
“No, that’s…”
The woman looks at him like he’s a goddamn idiot. “Is she yours?”
He hesitates, and I cry out as my stomach cramps again. “She’s…in placement with my pack.”
She shakes her head. “Well, not to be an ass, but then you did this. She needs a nest. She needs your knot. She needs everything an omega needs. And now. Do you even know how to take care of an omega? Maybe you should take her to a clinic. They have emergency services.”
And that’s it for me. I sink to the ground.
I’m going to start convulsing soon.
I can’t tell you the amount of times I woke up in my own vomit. I can’t believe bond sickness hasn’t killed me yet.
I drop my hands to the floor. It’s best to try to relax, otherwise, I can hurt myself even more trying to stop it from happening.
And then something nice happens. Nothing ever nice happens. Sabbies drapes his jacket over my shoulders.
“You’ve got to get her out of here. The de-scenters prevent her from being comforted by your smell. Wait, does she even like your smell? I really think you should take her to a clinic.”
Sabbies growls at the woman. “She likes my smell. I’m getting her out of here. Thank you for your help.”
He picks me up in one motion and carries me down the stairs.
I’m trying so hard to abate the convulsions.
Once those happen, I will have no more control.
I’m openly weeping. God, everything hurts.
Nothing is going to be better. If I can’t weather this, then I’ll die. I’m dying. I’m dying dying dying.