Chapter 18
The days go by rapidly, and turn into weeks.
Various towns, big and small, pass by outside my trailer window.
Before I know it, I’ve been here two months.
I start to grow more comfortable with the cast and crew as they pop in for minor injuries and illnesses, and I spend some time with them doing yoga and playing cards.
But there really isn’t much to do, and a lot of the troupe’s time is taken up practicing and performing, so most of the time I stay in my trailer. Every time there is a knock on the door, I expect it to be Quinton wanting to hang out again, but he doesn’t come back.
I try not to read into it.
I know now that the show is incredible, but I haven’t gone back and watched it again after the disastrous game of truth or dare.
I’m a little embarrassed at how quickly I fled from Dario’s exaggerated moans and groans after the performance I watched.
An uncomfortable amount of arousal rushed through me at the sound, my mind beginning to spin with all the possibilities of being close to a man like that.
I had to run before I filled my panties with slick.
My suppressants don’t stop that from happening, and I’d rather not be turned on in a room of men I’m attracted to.
Despite the dangerous acts that are performed in Cirque de Mordu, I haven’t dealt with any major injuries. Shockingly, I haven’t had to stitch up Quinton yet with the body suspension he does, but apparently it’s safer than it looks.
There has been a concerning outbreak of gonorrhea among the Betas, as well as several upper respiratory infections, a sprained wrist, and multiple cases of the flu that I’ve had to treat.
The latter of which is why I’m puking my guts up into my tiny toilet. Even doctors are not immune to the flu, and I assumed that treating patients in my trailer was likely to make it difficult for me to stay healthy.
I was proven right if the retching I’m doing is any indication.
I pull myself into my nest, barely able to keep my eyes open. It’s been three days of this, and I haven’t been able to keep down more than a few sips of water. Luckily, no one has needed me, because I can’t even take care of myself right now, much less someone else.
It’s only a matter of time, though, before something happens and I’m dragged into work. I can only hope I’m better before that happens.
I did text Jude and let him know I was out of commission for anything except extreme emergencies. Even though I worry that I won’t be very useful in those situations, at least I can triage and communicate the correct information if paramedics need to be called.
I can vaguely hear the crew outside the trailer, shouting about how it’s time to hook up the caravan and head to our next stop .
That’s fine by me. Gives me more time to rest and recover. They know by now that I never ride in the cab for transport. I much prefer the comfort of my nest. The swaying of the trailer while being transported should lull me to sleep, and hopefully, this time, it’ll be restorative.
Maybe when we get to our next town, I’ll feel better.
I could use some scenery other than my nest, even though it is comfortable as hell and I’m obsessed with every piece in it.
Shopping for it with Quinton and Matteo was a lot of fun.
It was the first time I felt like my nest was what I wanted it to be.
Previously, with Rich, he heavily dominated the process, and I felt like I had to go with his choices.
It bothered my Omega, but I sucked it up.
Now my nest feels safe. Like the secure, calming space it’s supposed to be.
The fever that has taken over my body has made my dreams nearly unbearable the past few days, digging up memories I hoped would never be unearthed again.
I don’t know why I thought they’d say away.
I’ve never been lucky.
“I just don’t understand,” I tell Rich in the car on the way home from our anniversary dinner. “When did you form a pack?”
“They were my pack in college, even though we didn’t file for formal formation.
We reconnected recently, and I realized how much I missed having a pack.
How good it would be for you.” He hits the turn signal, not looking away from the road.
“You should be happy. A lone Alpha probably wouldn’t be enough for you during your heat once you go off suppressants entirely.
This is what your Omega has been waiting for. We can bond now. ”
“But why did you spring this on me? I thought…” I bite my lip, trying to hide the tears that threaten to spill over. “I thought you were going to propose.”
He reaches a hand blindly towards me, grabbing my knee. “I thought this was better. You get a pack, like a proper Omega, and we can bond. Your parents will be thrilled.”
I wrinkle my nose, his wording leaving a bad taste in my mouth. “A proper Omega? What’s that supposed to mean?” And why now, after four years, is he suddenly so obsessed with bonding?
Rich pulls into our driveway, where another car, the expensive and impractical one I watched the valet pull away with at the restaurant, is waiting for us.
Tripp and Greg. Rich told me they were moving in tonight.
It’s a lot, all at once, and I can’t wrap my brain around it.
I don’t have anywhere else to go. My parents are in Washington, and we’re in Florida. I love Rich, so I am going to have to give this a try, despite my initial misgivings. I owe him that much.
“I just mean that once you have a pack, you won’t need to work anymore. We’ll provide for you, and you can focus on being a parent and homemaker. It’s what every Omega wants.”
Maybe a lot of Omegas, but not me. He knows this about me. I love being a doctor. Having a career has always been important to me. I don’t want to be a house Omega. I don’t begrudge any Omega who wants that life, but it’s not for me.
I’m not even sure if I want to have kids. I want to explore. See the world. Travel around and make mistakes. I’ve been so responsible my whole life. I want some time just to live a little.
He climbs out of the car, and I stay seated, willing myself to move. But I can’t bring myself to enter that house that now has two strange Alphas inside it.
Alphas that smell awful. Like earthworms and durian.
I’ll need to up my suppressant dose so I don’t have to smell them.
They won’t be able to catch my scent either, which is an added bonus, so they can’t claim my pheromones sent them into a rut.
Rich will be upset that he can no longer smell me, and it’ll further delay my heat, but I think he’d understand. Especially if I say it’s for work.
The door to the car wrenches open, Tripp filling the spot it left. He’s got the look of a Wall Street guy, with the smarmy grin to match.
He’s the type of guy I’d cover my drink around if he were talking to me at a bar.
“Let’s go, Omega, we have some ground rules to discuss.”
“Ground rules?” I echo, still not moving.
His large hands grasp my arms and lift me out of the car, not so gently. A hand stays planted between my shoulder blades as he leads me up the walkway.
“Ground rules. Things are going to be different now.”
I barely make it to the toilet before I’m hurling up the bile and the small amount of sports drink that fills my stomach. I don’t know how long I slept, but it’s now dark outside, and it doesn’t feel like the trailer is moving.
Did I sleep through the whole drive and show?
A knock shakes my trailer, and I groan, clutching the toilet harder.
“Doc!”
Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.
I don’t know which “him” this is, but the sentiment still stands.
But the knocking continues, so I drag myself into my nest and throw on the first moderately clean clothes I can find. It’s the best I can do not to have a vomit-stained shirt on. If they want me to be presentable, they’ll have to wait three to five business days at this rate .
“Doc, come on, please open up!” The voice is insistent as hell, and I know this is my job, but right now I hate it.
I hate everything.
I have never been this sick in my life, and I want to be left to rot in peace.
“I apologize,” I shout through the door in a hoarse voice. “I’m extremely sick. I don’t want to give this to you because I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.” I pause a moment, thinking that over. “Actually, no, I totally would because this may kill me, so may as well take them down with me.”
I’m rambling.
I’m aware of that.
“Dr. Alex!” That’s a different voice. “I understand you’re sick, and I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t an emergency. Something is wrong with Quinton.”
Quinton’s case of Alpha Rot is advanced.
I don’t know how old he is, but he seems young enough that it shouldn’t be this bad, despite being an unbonded Alpha.
Some Alphas go their whole lives and never Rot, but then there are the unlucky ones like Quinton who seems to have inherited an aggressive gene for it.
How the other circus doctors missed it is a mystery to me. There isn’t much I can do, even though something inside me revolts at the idea of letting him fall victim to this without even trying.
These are his friends, his family, I can’t let them down. I have to see if I can at least make him comfortable.
“Give me a moment,” I call back through the door. I grab a piece of gum, since I’m not trying to ruin my enamel by immediately brushing my teeth after puking, and throw my hair up in a bun. It’s not even a cute bun, but that doesn’t matter.
Medical bag in hand, I open the door, and Jude and Dario are standing at the base of my stairs, pacing tracks into the grass.
“Where is he?” I ask, and they point to the left and then take off, leaving me to clamor down the stairs alone after I lock up.
It’s a beautiful evening, but I can’t appreciate it. My head is spinning, and my body aches as I follow behind the guys at a distance, unable to keep up with their long strides.
“He’s in Matteo’s trailer. He’s not good, Doc,” Dario says, looking over his shoulder at me. “I’ve never seen him like this.”
“He’s got Alpha Rot,” I tell them. “I’m not sure how much I can do, but I’ll try.”
It takes us only a minute before we’re in front of a trailer with all the lights on, the door held open for us. I rush inside, and immediately my whole body freezes up.
My mouth starts to water, and I can feel myself grow slick between my legs, and a desperate whine starts to build in my throat.
No.
No.
No.
My suppressants. Either I forgot to take them or I vomited them up, but I can still smell the pheromones that blanket the space.
And if I can smell them…
I look up, meeting a pair of angry blue eyes.
Dexter.
He snarls and stands up, stomping away before I can get a good read on his scent, but he must’ve clocked mine.
But I can’t think about that right now. Not when I have a patient. If I let myself focus on the fact that my scent is out there, I’ll curl up in a ball and be even less helpful than I am right now.
Quinton is on the floor, eyes closed, with a crying Matteo holding his hand. I drop to my knees beside him, and Matteo immediately stiffens. The smell of burnt popcorn makes my nose itch before I realize what that is.
That’s the smell of an upset Beta, and it’s making my skin crawl with a desire to fix it.
He’s not supposed to smell like that. I don’t know what his scent is supposed to be, but there is something inherently wrong with this burnt, bitter scent, and it makes me want to pull him into my arms and purr. The instinct is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
Matteo is staring at me, slack-jawed, and I know he’s affected by my pheromones too. But I can’t stop and think about what that means and how it’s making me feel. That’s not why I’m here. I have to compartmentalize all of this until I know Quinton is okay.
I place a hand on the Alpha’s neck, feeling his pulse, before I grab my stethoscope from my medical bag. “Talk to me, Matteo, tell me what happened.”
“We were getting ready to turn in, and he just fell out. He won’t wake up.” The Beta is staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face, and the burnt popcorn scent is taking a sweeter edge to it as he stares at me.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from groaning as the sweetness increases.
“Have you been using the cream?” I ask, taking Quinton’s temperature. When Matteo nods, I hold out my hand for the tube he produced. It doesn’t look like a dent has been made. “How often?”
“Once a day?”
“Damnit, Matteo, I prescribed it three times a day for a reason.” The Beta flinches back from my harsh words, and I slow down to take a few cleansing breaths.
“I’m sorry. I’m sick and grumpy. That was unprofessional of me.
I know you’re doing your best to keep up with his complex needs.
It can’t be easy being a caregiver to your lover. ”
He continues blinking at me, expression completely frozen as he stares me down. After a moment, he inhales deeply and speaks. “Your pheromones.”
I wince. “Yes, apologies. Apparently, while I’ve been sick with the stomach flu, I could not keep enough of my suppressants down to avoid this. We should open a few windows.”
“No, he needs exposure to your pheromones. If you’re matches…”
I look down at the Alpha, who almost looks like he’s resting peacefully. Of course, I know better, and it makes my stomach ache to see him like this, knowing there isn’t anything I can do.
He’s not okay, and he’s not going to be okay, no matter what I do medically. The only hope of slowing this illness is for him to find his scent match, and for some reason, he thinks that’s me.
What’s the harm in seeing if he’s right?
But in the back of my brain, I know what the harm is. I know that a scent match is the most surefire way to control someone. That there is no escape once they’ve found you.
“Give me your shirt,” I tell Matteo. I hold my hand out, and after a moment, he pulls it off and hands it to me, wrinkling his nose in confusion.
It smells like fucking kettlecorn, and I nearly start purring right there. I want to roll around in it, rub it all over me. I pull off my shirt, uncaring that the Beta can see my breasts, before slipping into the fabric he gave me.
Being surrounded by Matteo’s scent like this has me aching to be in his arms. It takes every bit of my self-control to stop myself from pulling the collar of it over my face and inhaling deeply.
My shirt hasn’t been washed in days, and is soaked in my fevered sweat, so if anything has enough pheromones to bring Quinton out of this, it’s that shirt.
If we’re scent matches, that is.
I gently fold the shirt up and wrap it around his neck like a scarf, covering his mouth so it rests right below his nose.
Matteo stares at me, eyes shiny with tears. “What do we do now?”
“We wait.”