Chapter 25
Idrift toward consciousness, my body too heavy to lift, and my brain too fogged to form a single coherent thought.
The first thing I register is a stranger’s voice, hissing with restrained anger. “What were you thinking, man? Three mating Marks back-to-back? Were you trying to kill him?”
“He’s my mate,” Orien responds matter-of-factly. “He can handle it.”
“He can handle— For fuck’s sake, Orien! Do you have any idea what kind of side effects that shitty drug has on Omega bodies? You’re lucky he didn’t seize, you absolute—”
The sound of metal hitting a hard surface cuts through the darkness. I fight through the layers of sleep, trying to place where I am and why someone is arguing about my body.
“I didn’t bring you here to nag me.” The words come out clipped. “Give him the IV. I can’t get any water into him in this condition.”
“Fucking asshole,” the other man mutters. “I’m a lab tech, not a nurse. You should take him to a clinic.”
My throat aches when I swallow, my tongue thick and dry, and every muscle in my body aches, as if I’ve been run through a wringer. I try to open my eyes, but my lids might as well be made of lead.
A stranger’s fingers brush my inner elbow, and a chemical scent stings my nose, isopropyl alcohol, before a cold, wet cotton ball slides across my skin.
Training kicks in, muscle memory driving me forward as I roll and lunge, my hand already moving for the closest vulnerable point. My fingers connect with warm skin, and I follow through, wrapping my arm around my target’s throat and using my momentum to take him down.
A surprised yelp turns into a choked sound as we hit the floor together, my arm locked around the stranger’s neck. The IV drip pole topples with a clatter, tubes and bags flying as I tighten my grip.
“You fucking psycho—” The stranger’s words cut off into a wheeze.
I force my eyelids up, blinking away the blurriness until the person beneath me comes into focus. A man with sandy hair and wire-rimmed glasses knocked askew.
Recognition comes a half-second later. William Mosley. The Beta that the Blue Note Crew has stationed at the police forensics lab. Shock widens his brown eyes, his hands raise in the universal sign of surrender.
“Good to see you awake,” he wheezes past the pressure on his windpipe, but he shows no sign of fear as he takes in the bruises and bite marks that cover my naked body. “Though, maybe I should be giving you more than an IV?”
A growl rises from behind me. “Keep looking at my mate like that, and I’ll dig out your eyeballs.”
I glance back to see Orien hovering over us, shoulders rigid and hands flexing at his sides. He stands ready to step in, but he holds back, giving me space.
William’s focus shifts to the ceiling as his hands remain raised. “He’s the one who jumped me.”
“It’s a good thing you’re a Beta, or I’d kill you,” Orien replies.
“Hey, I was just doing…well, not my job, exactly, but who cares that practicing medicine without a license could get me thrown in jail?”
A warm hand settles on my nape, fingers tracing my new Mark. My racing heart slows in response, muscles going loose as the tension drains out of me. The touch grounds me, reconnecting me to my body after the shock of waking up in combat mode.
“It’s okay,” Orien murmurs. “He’s here to help.”
I allow him to lift me off William and deposit me back on the bed, my muscles protesting the movement with twinges of pain. The sheet slides over my over-sensitized skin, the cool cotton a shock after the heat of the last... How many hours has it been?
Orien swaddles me in the sheet to cover me from the chin down, then pulls my arm free and reaches for the alcohol swabs to clean my inner elbow again.
“I don’t need an IV,” I rasp, my throat rough from the abuse of Heat-driven pleasure.
Orien shushes me with a kiss on my forehead, then turns to William. “Get off your ass and finish the job.”
“Charming as ever,” William mutters, climbing to his feet and retrieving the fallen IV pole. “Didn’t even ask if I’m okay.”
“You’re breathing,” Orien replies. “That’s all I care about.”
William adjusts his glasses and approaches the bed with more caution this time. “So, you’re the famous Lee.” He holds the IV needle up to the light to check for air bubbles before giving me a wink. “Or should I call you Lev?”
I freeze at the sound of my name. “How—”
“Let’s just say Rowan has excellent information sources,” William cuts in. “And a very thorough background check policy.”
He finds a vein on the first try, sliding the needle in with practiced ease. “There we go. This should help with the dehydration and replenish your electrolytes.”
Cool fluid slithers into my vein, chilling me from the inside out.
Orien’s hand strokes my hair, his touch soothing. “How long until he’s functional?”
William secures the IV with tape. “Depends. His body’s been through a lot.” His eyes sweep over me with professional assessment. “Three consecutive Heats are rough, not to mention any aftereffects of the Inductis. There’s a reason it’s still in the trial phase across seas.”
I raise my free hand to my nape, investigating the tender skin where Orien’s teeth broke through. “Did it work? The Mark?”
William raises an eyebrow. “You can’t tell?”
My fingers trace over the telltale raised edge of a permanent Mark and find three distinct rings of teeth, each one slightly overlapping the last.
“I don’t understand,” I say, heart sinking. “Why didn’t the first two settle? It was supposed to be permanent after the third dose. Did it not work? Is the bond not—”
“No, no.” He leans in to examine the Mark, careful to keep his hands in view where Orien can see them.
“It worked. It worked too well, if anything. Here.” He shifts my fingers to the side.
“Feel how the edges of this bite are sealed more than the one above? The bond is setting in. But it’s not going to be pretty. ”
I trace the outline of each one, noting the varying stages of healing as they sink beneath my skin, leaving only a slight roughness behind in some spots.
“Usually, the first Mark is almost gone by the time the next Heat cycle starts, so it’s re-established, then repeated a third time to complete the bonding process.”
William reaches up to squeeze the drip bag, and a flood of cool fluid rushes into my veins. “While your body recognized each one as a separate mating, since there was no time in between to heal... Well, you look a bit gnawed on.”
I run my fingers over the three rings again, noting the slight differences in each one. “What does that mean? Is it dangerous?”
William’s mouth quirks into a half-smile as he gives the bag another squeeze, getting the fluid into my body faster. “Dangerous? No. While it’s not a standard Marking, the three rings are distinct, so there’s no doubt you’re bonded.”
He reaches for his bag and pulls out a small tube of ointment. “The slower standard bonding eases you into it, though. This method is going to intensify your response to your Alpha.”
He sets the ointment on the nightstand. “This will help with the healing. Apply it twice daily, and try not to scratch. It’s going to itch like hell when the scabs start to loosen.”
I swallow hard, my throat clicking. “And there’s no way to...undo it?”
William cocks his head to the side. “Course there is.”
Behind me, Orien goes very still, his hand freezing on my thigh.
“There’s always one way out of a permanent Mark.” He slashes a line across his throat. “Only tried and true method.”
With a shudder, I curl closer to Orien. “No, thank you.”
“Good call.” William checks the IV bag, gives it one more squeeze, then pulls the needle from my arm, replacing it with a bandage.
He packs everything away and zips his case closed before he turns to Orien. “He needs water, electrolytes, and protein. Don’t let him move around too much for at least twelve hours. His muscles are going to be shot, and he’ll be prone to fainting if he moves too quickly.”
Orien nods once. “And the Marks?”
“Keep them clean, use the ointment, and if you catch him scratching, put socks on his hands,” William says as he shoulders the strap attached to the case. “Oh, and Orien?”
He waits for my Alpha to look up.
“Rowan will expect a report soon.”
“Take the folder and get out,” Orien snaps.
William salutes. “Call me if you start to feel feverish or nauseous.” His eyes meet mine for a brief moment. “Try to rest. Your body needs time to recover.”
He’s gone before I can respond, the door clicking shut behind him.
Orien’s arm slips around my waist, tugging me closer until my back rests against his chest. His nose nuzzles the back of my neck, over the Marks, and his rumble of contentment vibrates through me.
My body melts in response, and I go limp within his hold. Every muscle aches, my inner thighs tender where they brush together, my hips sore from the way Orien held me open. The sensation of him refuses to fade, as if his cock might still be inside me, stuffing me full.
Orien’s hand strokes up my side, fingers tracing each rib with careful attention. “You need to rest.”
I snuggle into him, surprised by this new, tender version of my Alpha.
After a few minutes, where I almost fall asleep, I rally to ask, “Did you mean the folder that was in my jacket?”
Orien’s hand stills on my stomach. “Yes.”
I should be angry that he went through my belongings while I was passed out. Should bristle at the presumption, the invasion of privacy.
But I can’t muster the emotion, not when I’d planned to give him the folder, anyway. “Did you read it?”
“I did,” he confirms.
I turn in his arms, wincing as my muscles protest the movement. “You need to know that it could be a plant. This whole thing is a test of my loyalty as much as it’s about taking down the Blue Note.”
“I already thought of that, and we’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Orien’s hand moves to cup my jaw, thumb brushing my lower lip. “Today is for us.”
My throat tightens at the simple statement. Today is for us, with no guarantee of a tomorrow. No guarantee that the Marks on my neck are enough to protect us from what’s coming.
“But—”
His thumb covers my lips, silencing me. “No buts. No planning. No thinking about what comes next. Just us, right now.”
I want to argue. Want to point out that the family is already moving, and that every hour we wait is another hour they have to execute their plan.
But then Orien’s hand slides down my stomach, fingers tracing the line of hair that disappears beneath the sheet, and my body responds to my Alpha. My hips shift, seeking contact, and my breath catches.
“Please,” I say, the word coming out ragged. “I need—”
“I know what you need,” Orien murmurs, and his hand moves lower.
I gasp at the contact, my over-sensitized body responding with embarrassing eagerness. My dick hardens in his grip, the slide of his palm sending sparks of pleasure through me despite the bone-deep exhaustion weighing down my limbs.
I open my legs, giving him better access, needing to reconfirm our bond despite the ache in my body. Because nothing past this moment is guaranteed. Not the family’s forgiveness, not the Blue Note’s protection, not even our lives if the confrontation goes badly.
But this, the connection between us, the trust that lets me fall apart in his hands… This is real. This is mine.
“Stop worrying.” Orien’s mouth finds mine, kissing me with a gentleness that belies the firm grip of his hand. “I’m not letting you go.”
His hand moves between my legs, toying with my balls and stroking my perineum before he seeks out my entrance, slick with desire. And as he slowly brings me back to the edge of pleasure despite everything my body’s been through, I believe him.
I’m just not sure it will be enough.