25. Olive
Pacing the length of the living room rug, my phone presses against my ear while the dial tone rings over the speaker. The sprawling mansion feels quiet and serene today.
Susan picks up on the third ring.
"Susan, it's Olive." I keep my voice steady, fighting the huge grin threatening to break across my face.
"Olive. Tell me you have good news."
"I have the bonding marks." Looking down at my left wrist, the healed scar stands out against my golden skin. "I'm a bonded Omega."
"That's the best news I heard all week." Susan lets out a relieved sigh over the speaker. "The hospital liability issue vanishes with those marks. I can have your reinstatement paperwork drafted by noon. When can you start?"
"I need a few days." I look toward the hallway leading to the west wing. "I have a pack matter to attend to this week. I can be back on the pediatric floor by next Monday."
"We will see you Monday, Olive. Sam asks for you every day."
"Tell him I'll see him soon."
I end the call. A fierce thrill hits my chest. I got my career back and reclaimed my independence on my own terms.
I walk down the corridor toward the master suite.
The Alpha Cup Finals start next week, demanding total focus from the Iron Wolves.
Finn, Lawrence, and Malcolm left for the arena an hour ago.
They face a grueling practice schedule on the ice, but Victor opted out.
He requested a medical leave of absence for the week, benching himself during the most critical training sessions of the season to save a kid's life. He’ll recover in time for the actual championship game, but missing this prep time is a huge sacrifice.
The bone marrow registry doctor put Victor on a strict five-day regimen of Peripheral Blood Stem Cell injections. The shots force his marrow to overproduce stem cells and release them into his bloodstream for the donation.
The side effects hit him hard. Overproducing stem cells creates a deep, aching throb inside the bones and joints.
I push the bedroom door open.
Victor lies flat on his back in the center of the California King mattress. He wears a pair of loose gray sweatpants. His pale skin looks flushed. A quiet groan rumbles in his chest as he tries to shift his weight. The scent of juniper turns sour with discomfort.
"Hey." I walk over and sit on the edge of the mattress near his hip.
He opens his icy blue eyes. "Tell me you got the job back."
"I start on Monday." I reach out and brush a stray blond curl off his sweaty forehead. "Susan sounded thrilled."
"Good." A tired, genuine smile touches his lips. "You deserve it, Liv.”
"How are you feeling?" I trace my thumb over his jawline.
"Like someone took a baseball bat to my skeleton." Victor closes his eyes with a harsh exhale. "The doctor warned me about the bone aches, but this feels ridiculous. I feel like an old man."
"Your marrow is working overtime right now." I stand up from the bed. "I'm going to draw you a hot bath with Epsom salts. The heat will ease the joint pain. Then I'm bringing you a huge plate of food. You need protein to keep your strength up for the donation."
I walk into the sprawling master bathroom and turn the silver faucet. Hot water fills the vast marble tub. I pour a generous scoop of soothing lavender bath salts into the stream, letting the steam fill the room. The floral aroma cuts through the sour tension in the air.
I thrive in this element. Taking care of people brings me a profound sense of purpose. I spent the past few weeks feeling overwhelmed and vulnerable while the Alphas handled everything. I let them feed me, protect me, and calm my chaotic hormones.
Now, the roles reverse.
Victor submitted to a painful medical process to save a ten-year-old boy. He benched his ego to do the right thing. He lies in that bed vulnerable and aching. Being his caretaker feels like an absolute privilege. I get to baby him. I get to soothe his pain and show him my devotion through actions.
I walk back into the bedroom.
"Bath is ready." I hold my hand out to him.
Victor grunts, pushing himself up to a sitting position. He takes my hand, letting me help him stand. His towering frame dwarfs mine, but he leans a fraction of his weight against my shoulder. We navigate the short distance across the plush carpet.
"I appreciate this, Olive." He wraps his broad arm around my waist as we walk toward the bathroom.
"I've got you." I press a soft kiss to his bicep. "Just let me take care of you today."
The late evening shadows stretch across the bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp offers the sole light in the quiet room.
Day four of the injection cycle hit Victor like a freight train. The bone aches spread from his shoulders all the way down to his toes. He spent most of the afternoon trying to sleep off the discomfort, but the relentless throb kept waking him up.
I walk into the bedroom carrying a small, dark glass bottle of massage oil.
Victor lies on his stomach on top of the covers. He wears nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. His broad, muscular back looks tense. His icy blue eyes blink open when he hears my footsteps.
"The others still at the arena?" His voice sounds rough and tired.
"They ordered takeout and planned to stay late to watch film." I walk over to the edge of the mattress. "It's just you and me tonight. Roll over a bit. I want to work some of that tension out of your back."
Victor groans, shifting his weight. He rests his forehead against his folded arms, giving me access to his spine.
I climb onto the mattress. I straddle his muscular thighs, sinking my knees into the plush quilt on either side of his legs.
I uncap the bottle and pour a generous amount of oil into my palms. Rubbing my hands together warms the slick liquid before I press my palms against his skin.
He lets out a long, shuddering breath.
I start at his lower back. I use the heels of my hands to apply firm, steady pressure. I work my way up his spine, finding the tight knots of muscle clustered around his shoulder blades. The scent of his juniper wraps around me, smelling exhausted but grateful.
"You don't have to do this." His voice muffles against his arms. "I can just take some acetaminophen."
I push my thumbs deep into a stubborn knot near his neck. "I want to do this. You take care of the pack, and now the pack takes care of you. Just relax."
He goes quiet, letting me work the oil into his skin.
The silence in the room feels intimate and safe. We share a bond now. The hostility and the fear sit firm in the past. We survived the wreckage of our first impressions and built a foundation of absolute trust. I trace the hard lines of his back. My touch shifts from clinical to slow and devoted.
I map the curves of his muscles with my slick fingertips. Leaning forward, I press a soft, open-mouthed kiss between his shoulder blades.
Victor jolts. A low, vibrating rumble starts deep in his chest.
"Olive." The single word carries a warning and a plea.
"I've got you." I trail kisses up his spine, tasting the slick oil on his skin.
He rolls over.
The sudden movement catches me off guard. He grabs my hips and flips me onto my back, pinning me against the mattress. He hovers over me, supporting his weight on his forearms to keep from crushing my ribs.
His icy blue eyes burn with an intense, consuming fire. The exhaustion vanishes, replaced by raw, desperate hunger.
"You’ve taken the pain away." He drops his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with my own. "You make everything quiet."
"Then let me keep making it quiet." I reach up and tangle my fingers in his blond hair.
Victor captures my lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, tasting like mint and desperate need. I kiss him back with everything I possess. The friction sparks a hot, familiar throb between my thighs.
He breaks the kiss and trails his mouth down my neck. He finds the scar he left on my wrist and presses a lingering kiss to the mark. He moves up to my shoulder, his lips brushing over Lawrence's mark.
"I love you." The confession ghosts against my collarbone.
I smile. "I love you, too."
He reaches down and grabs the hem of my gray t-shirt. He pulls it over my head and tosses it onto the floor. He shucks my leggings and underwear down my legs in one smooth motion.
I lie naked under him. The heat of his gaze makes my skin flush a deep crimson.
Victor slides down my body. He settles his face between my spread thighs.
He wastes zero time. He dives his tongue into my dripping center, drinking my slick with a starving groan. The wet, hot friction sends a jolt of lightning down my spine. I arch my back, my hands gripping the sheets.
He eats me out with a slow, agonizing focus. He swirls his tongue over my swollen clit, teasing the sensitive nerves until my thighs tremble. He uses his large hands to knead my hips, grounding me to the bed while his mouth consumes me.
"Victor, please." My hands thrash against the pillows.
He pulls back, his lips shining with my wetness. Crawling back up my body, his chest heaves with ragged breaths.
He strips his boxer briefs off and kicks them away. His thick cock springs free, standing rigid and leaking pre-come. The engorged knot at the base of his shaft stretches the skin tight.
"My turn." I offer a wicked grin, pushing against his chest.
He lets me roll him over until he lies flat on his back against the quilts. I straddle his hips, moving my weight down his body. I settle between his thick thighs on my stomach. I lean forward, my dark bob falling around my flushed face.
I wrap my fingers around his thick shaft, smearing the slick pre-come over the head.
A harsh groan rips from his throat. His hips stutter upward into my hand.
I open my mouth and take him past my lips. I swirl my tongue over the sensitive ridge, sucking him deep. He tastes hot and salty. I fall into a desperate rhythm, bobbing my head while my hand strokes the base of his cock.