Chapter 4 #2
“I’ve been where you are,” Tybalt said, in that midnight soft voice. “I know what helps, and what makes the pain so bad you can’t fucking think straight.”
“Good for you,” I grumbled, telling my body to turn to the door, to open the damn thing and run from this place.
But it took all my concentration to breathe without Tybalt’s purr.
This was one reason I was so resentful of alphas, so resentful of being an omega.
We were utterly pliant when an alpha purred, so easy to control when they growled or barked.
And right now, I needed someone to vent all my rage and hurt on, so it was easy to hate Tybalt for purring me into a hug.
“I don’t like seeing it, you know,” he said, his voice sharper around the edges. Good. I didn’t know what the fuck to do with his softness. “You, going through the same pain I did. I’d hate seeing that happen to anyone. That’s why I purred, if you must know.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You’re wary, and with good reason after what that sick excuse for an alpha did.”
I lifted my glare from a spot on his chest, locking eyes with the alpha. The bastard had pretty eyes. Long lashed, warm, and flecked with gold. “What was his name? The buyer.”
Tybalt sighed, perching on the arm of the sofa I woke up on, looking like a delinquent who’d broken into the cosy room to rob its antiques. “Lance Brown. Some prick who works in insurance and comes from a wealthy family, so he thinks he can get away with anything.”
“He can,” I muttered. “Money can buy just about anything these days.” Maybe it always had been able to.
Tybalt nodded, his stare narrowed on a spot behind me. “Why do you think the Alpha Knights exist?”
“Because you had a passion for music and leather, and needed a way to express that.”
The look he shot my way was equal parts exasperation and amusement. “We’re not a fucking boy band. We’re a motorcycle club.”
“Same thing.”
Those two expressions merged into a smirk that looked frustratingly good on his face.
I was trying to hate him, and he was making it difficult by giving me space, and being hot, and purring.
I wanted it again, craved the way it would work through my body and make everything alright for a few minutes.
“Six weeks ago, three of the women who live in our sanctuary got kidnapped while they were out shopping,” Tybalt said without prompting, his attention falling on me and holding there.
“By the same guy? Lance Brown.” I said his name like a disease, a poison.
Tybalt shook his head, his long dark hair tangled, the sad, stretched remnant of a hair tie just about clinging to the ends. “No, those monsters were—worse,” he said with difficulty.
“Oh, right, I’ll just piss off with my sub-par sexual assault, shall I?” I snarled, turning for the door.
“Omega,” Tybalt said in a low, compelling voice.
No growl required. No fucking purr, either.
“I’m not undermining your ordeal. I’m saying they were taken by a gang of alphas and betas with absolutely no regard for women, locked in a grimy basement full of cum-stained mattresses, and repeatedly raped by all the men of the gang. It’s—fuck.”
The tight, strained quality of his voice made me face him again, my arms crossed over my chest.
He ran a hand down his face. “I’ve seen a lot of vile, sickening shit since I joined the Knights, but that’s the sort of thing that leaves you with nightmares. I can never erase it from my memory.”
I hugged myself tighter, pressing on my bruises.
A different kind of violence than what those women experienced.
I let out a rough sigh and nodded to say I understood.
I’d been bought and sold, kept captive, beaten daily, touched until my skin scalded and I wanted to claw it off my bones, kissed until I wanted to burn the impression from my lips, but—not like that.
I sighed. It didn’t make what happened in that room any easier to deal with, didn’t heal any of my injuries or fix the mess in my head, but I only had one abuser, and my prison had been pristine and civilised.
“So I got the three star treatment, and theirs didn’t even have a star,” I mused, dark humour the only thing keeping me sane. That, and the thought of going home. And the memory of that purr.
“Jesus,” Tybalt groaned, pulling at his hair. “Not a single fucking one of you should have been through any of that shit. I’m not belittling it.”
“You are,” I argued. “But I get your point. I had it easy. It could have been a lot worse, so I should stay here in your cosy little prison so I don’t experience something even worse.”
“You don’t have a very high opinion of me,” he laughed, bitter, a little twisted.
“Nope.”
“I’m not trying to manipulate you, warrior. I’m explaining why you’re having to deal with a soul-deep wound at the same time as processing your assault. I’m trying to—shit, I don’t know, give you context?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me, or telling me?”
“God, it’s like talking to myself,” he muttered.
“So sorry I’m not more accommodating. Would you prefer me to be a sweet, submissive little omega who falls over herself to listen to every word you say?”
“That voice is disturbing. You sound like a possessed doll in a horror film.”
“And you sound like my next victim.”
He smiled. What the fuck?
“There’s something wrong with you,” I told him, and turned to the door, pulling it open—successfully this time.
“ChaCha was one of the women abducted,” Tybalt said. “Sweetie’s fiancée. That’s why he can’t be with you, why he rejected you. Not only does he love her, but they’ve been through hell together, and it’s impossible to walk away from someone after that. It forges a bond even deeper than a mate bond.”
Every word sent the spikes of pain deeper into my chest, until every last part of me burned. I gripped the door handle, bowing forward as it turned to agony. I breathed through it, gritted my teeth against the cramping in my stomach, the sudden rush of dizziness.
“He’s a coward,” I snarled, breathing in rough pants, the pain enough to make my head spin.
“He’s loyal, and a good man.”
My laugh was twisted, tangled up in pain. “Fuck that.”
I picked up my bruised, agonised body and walked into the hallway, putting one foot in front of another, my vision blurring, narrowed to the threadbare carpet under me.
A bond even deeper than a mate bond. Good to know I meant nothing, fate meant nothing, and true loyalty meant nothing.
I knew any dream of a romantic relationship with my mate had died, and I’d accepted that, but shouldn’t he still be here, as a damn friend?
Hell, I’d endure his fiancée being here, too.
Shouldn’t being his mate count for something?
Shouldn’t he at least give a single shit if I lived or died?
My ankle fucked me over again, between one step and the next.
It just buckled, and this time Tybalt wasn’t there to catch me.
I collapsed on the carpet, and didn’t see the point in getting back up.
I rested my back against the wall and pulled my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them as a tear forced its way free.
Loneliness was a disease, and it acted so quickly, it choked me before I even noticed its approach.
I jumped when a shadow fell over me, and then Tybalt sat beside me, his long legs stretched out across the floor.
“You knew I wouldn’t get far,” I accused, my voice scratchy.
“Eh, I had a feeling. Sorry I wasn’t close enough to catch you.”
I glared, looking at the wall across from me, not turning to meet his eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. Why would you be sorry?”
He sighed heavily, and I felt his eyes on the side of my face. “There’s no one else here to catch you, so I’ve decided I will, however many times you fall.”
“Well, aren’t you a good Samaritan,” I remarked, not willing to admit that his presence pushed back that crushing wave of loneliness.
I was in pain, my head was a fucking mess, my mate didn’t want me, and I had to live with the fact that some prick had bought me for ten thousand pounds for the rest of my life, but I wasn’t alone.
The company was questionable, and I didn’t know this bastard at all, but when I blinked I saw him on the floor of that pristine white living room beating the shit out of my abuser. The loneliness ebbed.
“Oh sure,” Tybalt agreed. “I’m well known for being charitable. A real do-gooder.”
I slanted a look at him. “I’m sensing sarcasm.”
“Me? Sarcastic? I’m too much of a good Samaritan to be sarcastic.”
My mouth twitched into the world’s most depressing excuse for a smile. It remained for a moment, and then fell as silence stretched between us. I hated it. “You do realise you’re named after a gun-wielding thug in Romeo and Juliet?”
“Hey, I gave myself this name.”
I gave him a weird look. “Not Romeo?”
“That piece of shit?” Tybalt scoffed. “Not only was he a flighty, womanising wanker who wouldn’t know commitment if it bit him on the ass, he quite literally got his girlfriend killed. I wouldn’t call myself Romeo if you threatened my life.”
“Tybalt’s so much better,” I drawled, making it clear I didn’t agree with the words.
“He’s an arrogant, violent bastard who’s easily provoked by an insult to his pride or a threat to his family, and he’s not afraid to stab the shit out of his enemies. What’s not to like?”
I gave him a dry look, and held eye contact. “You’re telling on yourself.”
“At least I’m self-aware.”
That sad, depressed flicker of a smile was back. I rolled my eyes and broke eye contact.
“Prodigy’s back,” he said, tapping my knee. “At least stay to take advantage of our pain meds and medic skills.”
“Prodigy,” I repeated, glancing down the hall to see the red-haired president striding towards us with confident, self-assured steps.
Beside him, a tanned behemoth of a man even bigger than Guardian carried a green bag with a first-aid symbol.
“You lot are fucking awful at choosing names for yourselves.”
Tybalt chuckled. “Bet you can’t find any fault in our doctor being called Giant.”
Okay, fine, he had a point there.
“Come on,” he said, rising to his feet with a groan, stretching his arms over his head before offering a hand to me. “If you’re well-behaved, Giant might give you a lollipop.”
I kicked his ankle and got to my feet myself. Mostly just so I could run if anyone made any sudden moves. I locked eyes with the medic. “If you even think about touching me, I’ll scratch your fucking eyes out,” I warned him, prickling shivers moving up and down my arms.
“No problem,” Giant agreed with an easy smile. “If you don’t want to be touched, you won’t be. Can you tell me if you’re in any pain?”
I levelled the big, friendly giant with a flat stare.
“And the award for the world’s most useless question goes to…” Tybalt drawled, startling a staccato laugh from my chest. It hurt to laugh, my muscles squeezing pain into all my senses, but it felt like a fuck-you to my buyer and all the auction staff, so I didn’t fight it.
“Tyb, don’t be a dick,” Prodigy sighed.
“Is that possible?” I mused, glancing at Tybalt.
“Not even remotely,” he confirmed with a bigger smirk, hooking higher on one side than the other. I quickly looked away.
“This would be better in my office than the hallway,” Giant said, watching me with a patient sort of kindness that rubbed me the wrong way. “Or at least in the sitting room.”
“Living room,” Tybalt corrected.
“Stop being a contrary bastard,” Prodigy grumbled, but fondly. He turned and headed towards the cosy living room I woke up in, like us following him was a foregone conclusion.
I found Giant watching me with big, sympathetic blue eyes. “I can give you something to ease the pain, and to help you sleep so your body can recover faster. And about the—uh—emotional pain—”
“None of your business,” I bit out.
“Just a physical exam and painkillers then,” he agreed, not pushing like the prick at my side. He angled his head towards the room Prodigy vanished into.
I considered running for a long minute, but the promise of easing the pain thumping through my body was too much of a lure.
And, I reminded myself, a doctor’s kit might contain a scalpel.
What a shame it would be if one went missing.