Chapter 24 - Bridget
Would I ever sleep again? I spent most of the night replaying Nathan’s arrival; the way he’d looked at me before Gabriel had to stitch up his arm.
He had to be angry with me for what happened.
He’d been shot at, and I’d essentially made him a fugitive.
And now he was trapped here with me, and two strangers that I don’t think he particularly liked, with no other options.
Once I was sick of staring at the ceiling, I got up. I’d think better with a cup of tea.
I wasn’t all that surprised to find Nathan awake when I crept into the living room. I knew he was an early riser, too. Plus, the whole ‘almost being killed’ thing.
He looked up, startled, and then stared for a moment before looking down at his hands again. “Good morning,” he said, his voice deeper and raspier than usual. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants that must have belonged to Andrew. The shirt was interestingly tight across his chest.
“Morning,” I said, as normally as possible, and silently berated myself for ogling him at such an inappropriate time. “Can I get you something? Coffee?”
One side of his lips lifted briefly. “I didn’t want to wake anyone.”
“Well, Gabriel sleeps like the dead,” I said without thinking, then fled to the kitchen before I could see Nathan’s reaction to that slip up. To my dismay, he followed me.
He made his own coffee while I brewed a cup of tea.
It was strange being so close to him outside the lab.
His scent was stronger than ever, citrusy and smoky all at once.
I was holding my breath unconsciously and forced myself to exhale slowly and drop my shoulders.
There was no danger. Even if he was angry with me, Nathan would never scare or hurt me.
We sat on the couch in silence for a few minutes. I played with the string of the tea bag, bobbing it up and down, and watching the steam curl from the rim of the cup, all while sneaking glances at Nathan.
Even with bloodshot eyes and mussed hair, he was handsome.
A powerful jaw and high cheekbones, the ones I’d been so preoccupied with in the lab, with one surprising bit of softness.
The straight slope of his nose led to lips that curved downward, but his perpetual frown couldn’t hide how pillowy and full they were.
Did he know he had lips many women would kill for? I doubted it somehow. He’d never spoken about a girlfriend or partner, and seemed to treat his appearance like an afterthought.
He caught me staring at him. My face burned, but I recovered quickly.
“I would ask if you’re alright, but the answer is obvious, so I won’t,” I said.
“Nathan, I’m so, so sorry that you got wrapped up in whatever’s going on.
” I raised my palm to stop him from interrupting me.
“Let me apologize. Because this is my fault. Without me, you’d still have a normal life where people weren’t trying to shoot you. ”
“No. This was my choice. And I would do it again.”
I studied his stern face. “Why? That’s crazy.”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. His dark brown eyes burned with an unreadable intensity for one long moment. “Because it was the right thing to do.”
I shook my head, then got up to remove the tea bag and throw it away in the kitchen.
Nathan didn’t follow me this time. I took a moment to collect myself.
His scent was making my head spin, and thanks to Gabriel, I now knew my own had a mind of its own.
I couldn’t start perfuming in front of Nathan. I would actually die of shame.
“If you won’t let me apologize out loud, just know I’m doing it up here,” I said, tapping my head as I sat down far away from his corner of the sofa. I needed to change the subject. “How are the cells doing?”
“Oh. They were fine yesterday morning. Relatively speaking,” Nathan said.
“And the HLA mutability?” I asked.
“All the new cells are showing immune responses. That has to be the cause of all this, right? They don’t want anyone to know that Omega stem cells are not universally compatible.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose.
I sighed. “I thought so, too, but… Any ethical study will pull the plug when they find these results, anyway. Why does this little orthopedic study matter so much?”
“Money?” Nathan asked.
“But Davis was only taking payment from Andrew,” I reminded him.
Nathan tilted his head, conceding the point. It was good to be back on this ground with him, discussing an intellectual problem.
“If it’s not the results, then it has to be something about the study design or personnel,” he mused.
“Right. This personnel,” I said, pointing to myself. “Remember when my mother showed up that day? Early on?”
Nathan looked sharply at me. “Yes,” he said, almost warily.
“She hasn’t tried to contact me again. But that can’t be a total coincidence. I’m worried my family might be involved.” My stomach churned at the thought.
Nathan studied me and I realized he had no idea what I was talking about. Only Gabriel and Andrew had gotten the sob story of my childhood.
I told him the short version and left out the most depressing parts. His eyes grew darker with anger as I spoke.
“I don’t know why he would be involved, but the only violent psychopath in my life is Domenic. What if this is all some way to… punish me?”
“He would go this far to hurt you?” Nathan growled after a moment.
I half-shrugged. “It would be an escalation, sure, but he showed he was capable of cruelty a long time ago.”
He sat abruptly back on the couch. “Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why are Alphas like this? Or honestly, just men?” He sighed. “My father was a Beta, but that didn’t stop him from trying to kill my mother every few months. I never stood up to him until I presented as an Alpha. And even that was not enough.”
Well that put some puzzle pieces into place. How had I not recognized him as a fellow child of abuse? I reached for his hand, but he was too far away, so I let my hand fall to my lap. “I’m sorry. But you know that’s not your fault,” I murmured.
Nathan looked annoyed, maybe just at the memory of his father, or for showing too much.
“I know it doesn’t work this way, but I sometimes wonder if I presented because of that.
If some hidden biological imperative was expressed because of the exposure to stress.
Cortisol can trigger the expression of other genes; why not the ones that control designation? ”
I masked my surprise that he hadn’t completely changed the subject, even if he had made it clinical again. It felt like progress. But towards what? I pushed that thought away.
“It makes sense as a theory. But how would you test it?”
“It would have to be qualitative, I think. We could collect a sample group — Alphas, Betas, and Omegas — and determine the incidence of traumatic events in their lives before presenting.” I didn’t miss that he said “we,” as if we would continue working together after all this was over.
Maybe he didn’t mean it, maybe that “we,” was a royal “we,” but my stupid heart took it that way.
“But how would we even classify a traumatic event?” I asked, tucking my feet up into the chair and cradling my mug. “Would we require a PTSD diagnosis?”
Nathan looked wryly at me. “And how many people suffering from PTSD actually have a diagnosis?”
“True. Cortisol levels then?”
“It would have to be prolonged elevated cortisol during childhood. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m already showing my personal bias,” he said. The crease between his brows had relaxed slightly.
We spent the next hour designing our fake study. At one point, I went to find some paper and a pen to scribble things down.
“This is a great idea. You should do it once you’re not being…” Hunted? Targeted? Almost killed because of me? None of those seemed right.
“I know Fairview would back it. Finch is obsessed with designation-related studies,” I continued, referring to the Ph.D. I’d worked with before Lisbeth. He was an older Beta, grandfatherly most of the time, but intensely competitive. “Have you ever worked with him?”
“Briefly. If I recall correctly, you were one of his favorites. We could do it together,” he said.
I tried not to let my heart race. “Now I’m suspecting I was only one of his favorites because I was the department’s pet Omega.”
Nathan’s eyes flashed. “No.”
I almost laughed. “Just because you don’t see me that way… You’re the exception.”
He exhaled roughly. “It shouldn’t be this way.”
Was there anything more erotic than a man being enraged on my behalf? Apparently not to me. A throb between my legs pushed me to my feet. I could already tell my scent was spiking. “I need to shower.”
He looked bewildered, but nodded. “Sure.”
I fled.
After a long shower, I dried my hair with the hairdryer under the sink. That took twenty minutes. Then I counted the tiles in the shower — three hundred and fifty-six — which took another five.
I didn’t even have any makeup with me, so I couldn't waste time on that. I was studiously avoiding my reflection anyway. My clothes were fitting… differently. Tighter in the hips and thighs, especially.
I was gaining weight, thanks to the rich food and lack of exercise, and I tried not to be panicky about it. Which, of course, didn’t work. I needed an outlet before I started restricting.
Gabriel and Andrew were up when I finally emerged, but Nathan had disappeared. “Where’s Nathan?” I asked immediately. He hadn’t left, had he?
“Buon giorno to you too, carissima,” Gabriel said with a sly smile. “He is only taking a shower in our room.”
“Oh,” I said. “Good morning.”
“I’m making eggs,” Andrew called from the kitchen. “Soft scrambled for you, right?”
“Yes, please,” I said, remembering his arms around me the night before while we waited for Gabriel and Nathan to arrive. I’d been too distraught to be aroused. His purr had been pure comfort.