Chapter Thirty-Eight
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
PAIN RADIATES THROUGH my chest, stealing the breath from my lungs. I hug the bathroom counter, steadying my shaking legs. It feels as though someone just tackled me.
Shit, this isn’t my pain.
Stumbling to the bedroom, I collapse onto the edge of my bed and grab my phone. It rings twice before Mom answers. “Good Morning, sweetheart! You’re up early!”
“It’s a workday, Mom,” I huff.. The pain is fading, thankfully, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
“What’s wrong?”
“Fated. Connection.”
Mom sighs, the sound weary. “Oh, Bea. Shared pain is a terrible connection to experience. Have you spoken to Ridley and your other potential mates?”
“Lex and Ridley are still off grid, but Donovan assured me they were unharmed. Orion texted me back and confirmed the pain isn’t coming from him, either.” I don’t mention Shiloh, who is across the apartment in his bedroom and unharmed.
Lying back, I use my shoulder to hold the phone to my ear so I can wipe the tears from my eyes. Terrible seems like a very understated way of explaining how soul destroying this is. “There has to be a way to lessen the feeling.”
“Because shared pain is so rare, there hasn’t been enough research to give you a definitive answer. All I can do is suggest what bonded mates do. Close your eyes and envision something cloaking the bond between you and your mates. It’s going to be difficult because the bonds aren’t there. Just try your best.”
Listening, I find the spot I imagine my soul to be and envision the strings of fate that will tie me to my mates. Ridley’s is easiest because I feel closest to him. Finding the bare spark of connection between me and my mysterious fifth mate is nearly impossible.
“If you can’t blanket the connection to one mate, cover them all,” Mom suggests.
Taking her advice, I picture the softest pink comforter wrapping around each thread. “How do I know if it worked?”
“You wait. If the pain starts again and isn’t as strong, you’ll know.”
“And if it doesn’t help?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Mom promises.
Shiloh knocks on the bedroom door, reminding me we have to leave for the office soon. Rushing through a quick goodbye with Mom, I toss my unruly curls into a bun and slip on my blazer. This will have to be good enough. I don’t have the time or energy to put more effort in this morning.
“Ready,” I tell Shiloh as I step into my heels. My eyes stay trained on the front door, avoiding looking at my asshole boss. Weeks after my heat ended, I still haven’t gotten over his rejection. The broken pieces of my heart feel extremely raw in his presence, reminded with each inhale of his scent that I’m not worth taking a chance on.
“Are you alright?” he asks as we ride down to the lobby of his building.
A hint of concern laces his voice, but I’ve learned not to trust the emotions he feigns when he wants information about my life. Too many times has he turned around and thrown my response in my face.
“Perfectly fine.”
I feel his scowl before I see it reflected in the car window, but I don’t react. This is the path he chose. I will not allow him to continue to hurt me with his indecision and half-assed rejections.
As soon as we step into the Soulbound office, I leave Shiloh behind. The label is working to create a charity tour on the East Coast to help raise money for the kidnapping victims of the Montgomery cult, so I have an extensive to-do list. What better way to avoid the clusterfuck of emotions churning inside of my mind?
Hours pass quickly while I am buried in paperwork, emails, and phone calls. I briefly remember Jane stopping by the ask me about lunch, but I don’t think I answered her. I’ll have to apologize on my way out tonight.
Standing, I cross to the printer in the corner to grab the forms from the venue I’d spoken to earlier. Pain ebbs and flows through my skull, blurring my vision with black and brown dots. My feet barely move two steps when it doubles, exploding from my temple with an intensity that has my body shutting down.
A panicked shout fills the office as the world tilts, but I’m unconscious before I can process who is speaking.
Something warm presses against my cheek, vibrating softly. The weight of a blanket wrapped around my shoulders threatens to lull me back to sleep. As the fog clears from my mind, I hear the purr rattling from the chest I’m lying on.
Who is purring for me? And why?
Thinking back, I remember being at work. I’d gotten off of a call with a venue in Orlando and was going to grab the paperwork they sent over. What happened next?
Shifting my head, I’m startled to see Shiloh staring down at me through his dark-framed glasses. Oh Fates, he is the one purring for me? I scramble to sit up and move away, but his arms band around my torso and press me tighter against him.
“Be still.”
“Like hell,” I grunt. An ache in my head has me pausing. Right. Earlier, I had a headache and when the pain from my Fated connection compounded with it, I passed out. Lovely.
“You fainted in the manager’s office, Sabine. You will lie still and give your body the time it needs to heal.”
“I can heal perfectly fine sitting somewhere that isn’t your lap.” My words are grumbled against his chest, but I stop trying to pull away. His purr is actually helping to dull the lingering pain.
We sit quietly for several long minutes, with him flipping through papers on the end table beside him. I swallow thickly, fighting back tears at yet another show of love that will turn to rejection as soon as he deems me well enough to stand on my own.
“What happened?”
I shrug. Is it worth admitting I skipped breakfast and lunch and was overworking myself? That the mystery fifth mate I’ve discovered is being tortured somewhere and I can feel all of their pain? Probably not.
“Sabine,” Shiloh growls. His fingers grip my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “I will drag you to the hospital to be checked out if you aren’t going to be open with me.”
Grinding my teeth, I relent. He’s stubborn enough to follow through on his threat, and I’d rather not be stuck at the hospital for the rest of the evening. “I have another mate.”
His purr stutters to a stop as his body locks up. Watching him shut down at the mention of my other Fate matched mates leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It’s unfair Fate has cursed us both with this connection when he will never allow us to complete it.
“Whoever they are,” I continue, fighting back the tears welling in my eyes. “They’re being hurt. I’ve felt it for days. The agony of the pain their experiencing. I tried to drown it out by focusing on work, but I ended up skipping meals. So when the pain hit again, my body wasn’t equipped to handle it.”
A frown slips onto his face, warring with the disappointment reflected in his eyes. His arms slowly slip from around me. I sit up tenderly, cautious of the dull throb in my skull.
“You should never neglect your own needs, Miss Powell,” he finally comments. “We are finished here for the day. Let’s get you something to eat.”
I stare at him, silently begging for… something. Some sign he cares a mystery member of our pack is hurting, maybe? He’s as cold as ever, standing and brushing the wrinkles from his dress shirt.
Why do I keep expecting him to change his mind? It’s been months of this back and forth, and he’s made his stance clear. I believe it’s time to accept that this thing between us will never be more than a memory.
After a quiet dinner at an Italian restaurant a few blocks from Shiloh’s apartment, we returned home and quickly disappeared into out respective bedrooms. I’m curled up in the closet with old seasons of First Glance Pack playing on my laptop, a show Omen and her mates had introduced me to during their tour.
It’s an interesting show. One that proves Fate matched mates aren’t the pinnacle of happiness romantics portray them to be.
Snuggling into my blankets, I have to dig for my phone when it rings. Orion’s face smiles up at me from the screen, sending butterflies to flight in my stomach. He’s been in Los Angeles for almost six weeks now. Hearing about the band he’s working with and all the terrible things they’ve gone through since losing their bonded mate is heartbreaking.
“Hey,” I greet as the call connects. He looks devilishly handsome in his cutoff t-shirt. The blue in his hair is fading, but the almost ombre effect it has created suits him.
“You look exhausted, angel.”
Offering him a shaky smile, I nod. “It’s been a long day.”
“Tell me about it?”
My words flow easily, spilling all the struggles I faced today. From my mystery mate’s pain to Shiloh’s continued rejection. Orion listens patiently, letting me rant. When I mention skipping meals, he scowls. “If I told you I had skipped eating to the point of dizziness, how would you feel?”
It’s my turn to scowl as he flips the tables on me. Imagining one of my mates neglecting their needs makes my omega instincts twitchy. They’re urging me to start cooking despite the hypothetical in this situation. “Okay, I get it. I promise to take better care of myself.”
Orion grins, leaning back against the pillows on his bed and propping one arm behind his head. The move has his shirt slipping across his skin revealing the ink tattooed across his chest. Fate designed this alpha to melt panties and omega brains.
“You’re drooling, Omega,” he teases, pointing to my mouth.
“Maybe I am,” I answer. “You always look mouthwatering.”
Color flushes his cheeks, and he winks at me, flexing the muscles in his arm. I can’t wait for him to come back from California. My body craves the feeling of him buried knot deep inside of me. The distance between us is too great.
We’ve talked at least once a week since he left. At first, I was concerned about the labels decision to send him. Those first few days had brought up a lot of painful memories for Orion. He’d shared some with me, telling me about the lows he hit after losing his first mate, Ren.
The more he talked, the better he felt, though. I’m glad I have been able to support him as he supports Belemorph. Not every alpha survives losing their mate. All we can do is try our best to help their pack, and hope their path in this world lasts a little while longer.
I thank Fate for putting Shiloh on Orion’s path. He saved my mate, allowing them both to find their way to me.
“Soon,” he promises, reading the longing in my eyes. “Belemorph’s coping mechanisms are working. I just don’t want to leave until I know they aren’t going to dive off the deep end of their grief.”
“Take as long as you need. I’ll be here when you come back.”