37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Emma
“Your cheeks are red. You have to be running a fever. Let me take you to the doctor, please.”
I attempt to shake my head, but the fainting feeling is coming again.
Evangeline’s pillow is the only pleasantly cool thing I feel.
Stelliea House’s rooms are small but cozy, like being in a cottage.
All the sheets have embroidered hems and smell as if they’re cleaned with lilac. It’s helping with the dizziness.
“No, it’s fine. I’m telling you this . . . feels different . . . This isn’t a normal cold.”
It started last night when the culinary club got back to Doxlothia after a full day of travel.
At first, I thought maybe I was just tired from the weekend, but the strange feeling turned into a fever accompanied by this intense urge between my legs.
It’s slightly painful, but the throbbing ache of it is the most maddening part.
It’s hard to explain, but I know who could help me . . . And every new wave of sensation makes the urge to seek him out that much stronger.
“A good reason for you to go to the doctor.”
Staying away from Dacre was my plan, and a good one, until we shared a bed a few nights ago.
I’m not 100 percent certain this mystery sickness and desire comes from being scent-matches with Dacre, but I’m using my context clues.
We shared a bed for a couple of nights—anything is possible at this point.
I’ve been tortured through every second we’ve spent together. Every twitch of his brow or scowl painted on his lips haunts me, down to the way his tongue felt over mine and his fingers felt between my thighs.
He texted me this morning, and I left it unanswered because this whole thing is a little embarrassing for me. What do you mean, my body is reacting to Dacre? Is this how he felt that day I was ovulating? Terrible and unable to concentrate?
“Emma . . .”
Evangeline’s bright eyes glaze over in a daze as she stares at her phone.
“Oh, no. What is it?”
“Is this . . . Where’s your phone?”
“I stopped using it because I got nonstop calls from the press about Olivia and her love life.”
With shaky hands, she shows me the headline of a new forum article.
Emma Osborne and Dacre Everhart Scent-Matches, Anon Source Reports.
I’m going to throw up this time. Who figured it out? This is the worst timing ever. Verity and Luther are going to run with this and make my life even more complicated than it is. I try to sit up as the room spins.
“Is this . . . true?” Eva asks.
“Yes. It’s true, and I promise I was going to tell you, but I had no idea how I felt about any of it yet. Things with Dacre are so complicated. We literally just started getting along, but our connection is . . . confusing and intense.”
“It’s okay.” She rubs my leg. “I get it. I mean . . . I knew you two had something going on.”
This is why I love her. Evangeline keeps secrets like oaths of blood and duty. She reminds me of Mom when she softens her voice and makes me feel as if everything will be okay.
“I don’t know what we have yet. Plus, he’s engaged.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
“It’s contractual.”
“Oh. But you’re . . . in love with him?”
I bury my head into the comfort of her marshmallow pillow. “I don’t know.”
What is love anyway, and what does it mean in this case? How could I love someone who constantly pushes me away? Though he didn’t do that at his estate. His usual aloof sensibilities were nowhere to be found, and instead, I feel as if I got a glimpse of the true Dacre Everhart.
I keep imagining him as a child, eyes full of hope and wonder while he cooked with his grandfather, years before cooking turned into a tool for him instead of a passion.
Dacre’s family is nothing like mine, and maybe it would be different if he were cruel, if he’d never shown me that he’s been protecting me. I still have this sneaking suspicion that there’s more that he isn’t telling me.
But none of that is how I see him. There’s a gentleness about him.
A calm, gentlemanly aura. When he tells me he will protect me, I believe it in every little crevice of my soul.
I’ve never met someone who pushes me in all the right ways, and there’s a little urge in me that wants to push him, too, to be the best version of himself, just like he does for me.
Is that love? How does one know when they’re in love?
I didn’t even text my mom, because the fact that I can’t talk to her right now is so disappointing that I could scream. She’d know the exact right thing to say to solve all my problems.
There’s a knock at the door.
“You better not have told anyone I was in here,” I groan.
“I did . . . tell one person. But it’s not Parker nor Olivia.” She strides over to the door. “Don’t hate me, but I was out of options.”
Zant pokes his head in the door and gives a sheepish wave. I try to glare at my sister, but it’s hard from my current position, and any movement just makes that relentless pulsing worse.
“I was summoned for a secret crisis.”
Zant is Parker’s best friend, so since Parker has integrated into our family, naturally, Zant has too.
He’ll tell Parker about this, but if I ask, he’ll wait.
I don’t think Parker minds, either, because he doesn’t have time for every crisis in our lives, though he wants us to be safe in a world that’s out for our blood constantly.
My head pounds with every step he takes toward me. He places a hand on my head. “Yeah, you’re burning up, and you smell . . . strange. Very strange.”
He crinkles his nose as if my scent is actually repulsive.
“I’m not going to the doctor. Especially not now.”
“Yeah, I saw the forum article on my way here.”
“How bad is it? Is everyone talking about it?”
“Um, I wouldn’t say everyone.”
“I can’t go. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Zant and my sister exchange glances.
“Have you and Dacre been spending a lot of time together?”
“I mean . . . Yes, of course, we’re both in the culinary club.”
“No, closer than that. Anything . . . skin-to-skin? You don’t have to tell me details, but if you and Dacre really are scent-matches, you might be having a heat-like reaction.
It’s different from what female Weres get, a lot less intense, but it would explain your scent.
You smell unpleasant to other vampires, but likely smell irresistible to Dacre. ”
When I sit up, I have to grip the nightstand to steady myself.
“Emma, you really do need to see the doctor. They should be able to give you something. Also, they can explain it way better than I can.”
“But . . . I’m going to be ambushed the moment I set foot outside. I bet it was Luther or Verity. One of them found out, and . . .”
“Do you want me to take you to Dacre? He was looking for you. Quite frantically, I might add. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him I knew where you were.”
“No, please. If I have to go, will you . . . walk with us?” I grab my sister’s hand because the thought of walking with this pain is daunting.
They’re gonna have to drag me.
“You got it.”
“Your suspicions are correct.” The doctor’s gray, wiry hair peeks out from her bun as she scooches her rolling chair next to me.
“You are experiencing a rare condition caused by being in proximity to a scent-match. I’m afraid it’s a little too late to give you any treatment for it, but I can give you something for the future that will suppress it, and I can send you home with some medicinals that will ease your pain and lower your fever. ”
I try to blink past the blinding light that’s shining in my face since she checked my throat.
The smell of the room adds to my nausea.
I spent so many days visiting the clinic with my mother when she donated that I can’t help but associate antiseptics with the sickening anxiety I’d get watching her donate.
“This is a shock to you.”
“A little. I . . . don’t know much about this stuff. I’m from Groveshire, where it’s mostly humans rejecting modern magical medicine at every turn.”
She nods, placing her hands in her lap. “What do you want to know?”
“Why is this happening to me, and how do I make it stop?”
“Scent-matches are statistically rare. Generally, your condition is thought to affect less than 1 percent of the population because it’s uncommon to find matches in pheromones.
Though we think that number might be a little higher, considering some may have a match but never meet them in their lifetime.
It looks like you’ve found yours, though, since you’re experiencing fevour pains.
They can be alleviated through fevour-suppressing potions, but they must be administered before it begins, or symptoms will only be alleviated by male ejaculation or a few days’ time. ”
So sex, specifically sex with Dacre, is the only way to feel better. It’s like a cold, where sex is my only medicine. Mortified doesn’t even cover it.
I sit back in my chair. “Oh.”
It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with him.
I’ve thought about it, but I don’t want this to be the reason he chooses to do that with me.
Plus, there’s a much more pressing issue.
Dacre has a very beautiful almost fiancée.
I don’t want to complicate our feelings with sex, because casual isn’t something I think is possible with him.
I care about Dacre, and the thought of sharing a night together before he runs off to get married isn’t a scenario I’m interested in.
“Can I ask . . . Are you safe? Is your scent-match someone you trust, or . . .”
I must look horrified because she looks as if she’s got a trigger finger ready to pounce into action. For that, I’m thankful.
“It’s nothing like that. I do trust him . . . It’s just that I’m processing this. I feel as if I’ve been told I’m pregnant or something.”
“Are you on any form of birth control?”
“No . . .”
“Unless you’d like to get pregnant, I’d suggest letting me give you some to take home with the potion. It’s 100 percent effective and works instantly, so you should be covered however you choose to deal with your symptoms.”
“Okay . . . When will it subside?”
“Without any male intervention, it will likely last a week. You can come shelter here in the nurse’s station if at any time, you feel your medicine isn’t helping enough.”
After I’ve received all my things from the office, I pull up the collar of Zant’s emerald-green Solexxa jacket to hide my face as I exit through the door. He let me borrow it so I could get around campus without being seen.
My phone is filled with nothing but notifications.
I scrolled through the forum for a few minutes, and it’s scathing.
It’s all rumors about Dacre and me and how I got into the culinary club.
So many things that I care very deeply about, but that I can’t care about while I feel like this.
In fact, the only thing I’d like to do is find Dacre.
Every few seconds, that’s what my mind automatically goes back to.
From what I know about heat for Weres, this isn’t comparable. That’s agonizing. That said, this is more than a little annoying. A seven on a scale of ten, and sometimes, it even goes down if I do something with my hands.
Zant is there waiting for me in the waiting room, along with my sister.
“So?” They stand when they see me. We gather by the fireplace.
I nod. “Yeah, you were right. Will you walk me to my room?”
We navigate out of the castle with ease, considering the nurse’s station is close to the entrance.
My sister leaves us, partly because she has an exam, and partly because her walking next to me garners more attention.
At least with Zant’s jacket covering my scent and most of my hair hidden, I’m easily disguisable.
Every step of the walk is torture. He helps me by letting me hold on to his arm.
“Can you be honest with me?” I ask as we near my room.
“Of course.”
“If you think Dacre is a total red flag and the worst person ever, you should tell me now.”
“You care about my opinion?”
“Yeah. I know you’ll tell me the truth to keep me safe, even if I don’t want to hear it.”
Though I just met Zant last semester, him being Parker’s best friend means we spend a lot of time together. Almost as if we’re all inductees in Parker’s pack. He’s also spent the most time with Dacre, since they’re both on the council.
“He can be a dick, but . . . I see the good in him, too. I’ve seen him change a lot since he started hanging out with you.”
“He’s engaged.”
“I heard. But there’s not a lot of love in contractual arrangements. I did see him today, and he looked . . . worried. He was looking for you, and he looked as if he wanted to kill me when I told him I didn’t know.”
“Really?”
“I think you know what you want to do, and the good thing is that you have a good support system if things don’t go as planned. Besides, Dacre didn’t give me the impression he was thinking about anyone else but you. There’s still time for him to pull out of the engagement.”
Our little unconventional pack of sorts isn’t so bad.
“Thank you.”