Chapter 7
Sutton
Pain.
My throat throbs like my blood wants to burst through my skin. I grind my teeth at the stabbing pain in my temple.
“What are you doin’, doc? I’m still dyin’ here,” I beg him for relief. To sink back into the darkness of the death-like coma that hid me from the pain.
“You will not be for long,” Doc says, standing over me.
“What are you talking about? Your venom…”
He holds a mirror up to my face.
And damn… If it weren’t for the scars I recognize from my fights in the octagon, I would ask why he’s showing me a picture of this dead guy. My skin has never been so sallow. My cheeks so hollow.
“Watch here,” Doc says, pointing to the rough, shredded flesh on my throat.
“Where are the fucking stitches? Why—”
“Watch,” he says again.
Heart pounding, anger flowing through my veins, wondering why I’m being forced to suffer, I watch as my skin, where the wounds are the narrowest, slowly stitches itself closed.
“What the actual fuck?”
“There was so much blood, and the wounds were so severe when you arrived, the picture of how you were healing was hidden from me.”
“What are you saying, Doc?” I’m sure I already know, I’m awake and healing faster than when I was knocked out, but I want so desperately to be wrong that I have to ask.
“Sutton!” Layla runs and throws herself on top of me.
Tears well in my eyes, relieved to hold her again. But as the pain consumes me again, and I remember why we’re here and where she’s been, a hot rage dries up the tears, and I let her go.
“He’s still hurt,” Layla says, inspecting my neck, too distracted by my condition to notice that I can’t look at her. “Razyr, why is he awake? He’s not fully healed,” she demands.
“Is that what you want? For Doc to put me back under so you can get another dose of alien dick?”
“What? Sutton.” Layla’s eyes are glossy. Her nose turns red, and her bottom lip quivers.
I’m an asshole. Pissed at myself for agreeing to let that alien fuck my wife and taking it out on her.
All these wounds cut too fucking deep. Especially the self-inflicted one I slashed into my own heart.
“Shouldn’t you be glad that I’m awake? Maybe asking the Doc about why I can be awake and not dying? ”
“Of course, I’m glad that you’re awake. Christ, Sutton. All I want is for you to be alive and well. But you don’t look that well.”
“But he is,” Doc says, gently. “Doing well and healing, quite rapidly, all on his own.”
Layla’s eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean?”
I tilt my head to let her better see the wounds on my throat.
She gasps. “I don’t understand. I thought it was your venom healing him.” She points at Doc.
“I thought so too. Until I discovered that Sutton has his own set of fangs and venom.”
“Fucking… What?” I shove my fingers under my top lip, feeling for extra teeth. “I don’t have fangs.”
“I did a full body scan.” Doc taps his black-clawed finger against a screen on the wall next to my bed.
A translucent 3D image of my body, outlined in purple light, appears.
He presses and holds his finger on my face to enlarge it.
Zoomed in, he points to two elongated triangles on either side of my nose.
My hand finds my face again, trying to feel the teeth behind my skin. “They appear to be retractable.”
“How do I bring them out?”
“Instinct. They appear when they are needed. I would guess you used them to bond with Layla.”
“No. I would remember if he bit me with fangs like that,” Layla argues.
Doc shakes his head. “Being bitten by an alpha is a euphoric, erotic experience. Alpha venom heals the omega’s wound almost as quickly as our fangs create it.
As quickly as Sutton’s venom is healing his own wounds, I would guess his bite wound on you healed before blood had a chance to bead on your skin. ”
“Oh, my god.” Layla falls back against the bed behind her, going pale and covering her mouth like she’s going to be sick.
She’s obviously come to the same conclusion I did.
“I am so sorry,” Doc says, dropping his gaze to the floor.
“I can’t believe this.” Layla pants and pushes her hands through her hair. “Are you telling me… Are you seriously saying that if you had not bitten Sutton, he would have healed just fine—even faster on his own? Are you fucking telling me that I…? That I…” Layla begins to sob.
Despite the amount of pain I’m still in, I pull myself up, swing my legs over the side of the bed, and pull her over to me, wrapping her in my arms.
I’ve been so fucking selfish. Not even thinking about how traumatic this has been for her. Neither of us asked for or wanted this. And it’s not her fault. None of it.
I can barely hold up my arms, but I hold her as tightly as my weakened muscles will allow. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.”
“I need to report my findings to Strykr. I will leave you two alone to process what you have learned.”
“This isn’t over, Doc,” I say, giving him a look full of fury to tell him that if I weren’t still on my deathbed, he would be.
“Of course,” he says, bowing his head before taking his leave.
“What are we going to do?” Layla squeaks through sharp intakes of air, trying to catch her breath.
“We’re gonna go home and forget any of this ever happened,” I say, though something deep down tells me that this isn’t over.
No. Whatever is happening to us… to me? It’s only just beginning.