Chapter 28 Dorian
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Dorian
The pharmacy lights are too bright.
They drill straight into my skull, and I wince as I stand in front of the pain relief aisle, staring at rows of bottles like they might rearrange themselves into something useful if I just wait long enough.
The migraine has been building since dawn, the kind that starts as pressure behind the eyes and slowly spreads until it feels like my head is packed with cotton and broken glass.
I know this pain. I’ve lived with it long enough to recognize the warning signs before it fully blooms.
The pulsing behind my temples. The nausea sitting low and ugly in my gut. The way every sound feels amplified, like the hum of the refrigerator or the shuffle of shoes on tile, is happening inside my skull.
Drinking yesterday didn’t help my cause at all.
I grab a box of painkillers and rub my forehead with my free hand, thumb pressing into the bridge of my nose.
Get in. Get out. Go home. Sleep.
That’s the plan. That has to be the plan.
I’m already running on fumes after the hospital visits and the stress of juggling my boss, the paperwork, and the construction schedules.
I’m grateful Mayor Brighton postponed our meeting until tomorrow. I don’t have the bandwidth today. I just need rest.
Then maybe later this evening, I can go back to the hospital and sit with Mom, read to her, let her complain about the food like she always does.
That’s what I’m supposed to be thinking about.
The bell above the door jingles. The sound is sharp enough to make me flinch.
Footsteps follow, heavier than most, familiar in a way that immediately puts me on edge. I don’t look up right away. I’m too busy willing my head not to split open, too focused on keeping myself upright.
Then the scent hits me.
Norah.
Not her exactly. Not the clean, soft version of her that I know so well.
This is richer. Thicker. Louder. It slides under my skin and sparks something deep in my chest before my brain can catch up.
My breath stutters.
I look up.
Jude stands a few feet away, frozen in front of the cold medicine section like he forgot why he came in.
He looks wrecked. His eyes are bloodshot, his shoulders tight, jaw clenched like he is holding himself together by sheer will.
And he smells like her.
Wrapped in it. Saturated.
Fuck.
My hand tightens around the box of painkillers so hard the cardboard creaks. The first thought that flashes through my mind is ugly and instinctive and impossible to stop.
Did he just fuck her?
The idea punches through me before I can reason it away, jealousy flaring hot and sharp. I hate that it even occurs to me. I hate that my body reacts before logic has a chance to intervene.
Jude turns and notices me then. Surprise flickers across his face before it settles into something heavier, something strained.
“Dorian,” he says. “Hey.”
“What happened?” I ask immediately.
I don’t bother with pleasantries. The words are out of my mouth before I can soften them. Something’s wrong. I feel it in my bones.
He exhales hard and scrubs a hand over his face. “Norah’s not okay.”
Panic claws up my chest.
“What do you mean, not okay?” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend. “What the fuck is going on?”
He hesitates. And that hesitation tells me everything before he even opens his mouth again.
“I think she might…” He swallows. “I think she’s in heat.”
The world tilts.
My knees wobble, the floor suddenly too far away. I have to brace myself against the counter to stay upright.
My migraine spikes viciously, white-hot pain slicing through my skull, but it barely registers compared to the surge of something else.
Fear. Memory. Instinct.
“In heat,” I repeat, my voice low and hoarse. “Now.”
Jude nods once. “It came on fast. We didn’t catch it early. She’s shivering. She’s incoherent. I don’t fucking know what to do.”
“How far?” I ask.
His jaw flexes. “It just happened. I called the hospital, but Simon wasn’t in. I talked to a nurse. Becky? No, Becca. She said we need to get her temperature.”
I close my eyes briefly.
I’ve been here before.
Not often. Not lightly. But enough to know exactly how dangerous this can become if mishandled.
I open my eyes and look at him again. Really look.
He’s vibrating with tension, shoulders rigid, breathing shallow. This is not a man who is panicking. This is a man holding panic back by force, and that restraint feels fragile.
“I’ve helped her through this,” I say quietly. “Before. More than once.”
His eyes flick up to mine. “I know.”
“I can help her now,” I say. “I have to.”
There’s no hesitation in him. No territorial bullshit. No ego.
“Come with me,” he says. “We’re going to Miss Thea’s.”
I don’t even think.
I dump the painkillers onto the counter, then start grabbing everything that might be useful. Electrolyte packets. Cooling strips. A thermometer. Anything even remotely related to temperature regulation.
The cashier barely blinks as she rings it all up, clearly uninterested in whatever emergency is unfolding.
Outside, the cold air hits my face and helps a little. It cuts through the pressure in my head just enough to clear my thoughts.
We drive fast.
Too fast.
The road blurs past us, gray and slick, the silence in the car thick with tension. Norah’s scent clings to Jude’s coat like a warning sign, reminding me with every breath what’s waiting for us.
The Hazel and Vine apothecary glows warm against the bleak morning, windows fogged, lights low and golden. The bell on the door chimes as we push inside, and the smell of herbs and dried flowers wraps around me immediately.
Miss Thea looks up from behind the counter. Her expression changes instantly.
“Oh,” she says softly. “It’s Norah, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Jude says. “She’s burning up.”
Miss Thea doesn’t panic. She never does. She sets her mug down carefully and gestures us closer.
“How long ago did it start?”
“This morning,” Jude answers. “Maybe earlier. We missed the signs.”
She nods slowly. “If it just started, it could still be pre-heat. But with Norah…” She trails off, thoughtful.
“With Norah, it’s never mild,” I say quietly.
Her gaze shifts to me. “Hello, Dorian.”
“Hey, Miss Thea.”
“You’ve been part of her care before.”
“Yes.”
She exhales. “Then you know.”
She moves around, pulling jars from shelves, measuring, blending.
“Different blends help different symptoms. Cooling for temperature spikes. Calming for agitation. Pain relief for muscle cramps.” She pauses and looks at Jude. “What’s her temperature?”
“Too high,” he says grimly. “I didn’t get a number. Her skin was burning.”
“You need to get the thermostat down,” Miss Thea says. “Sixty-eight. No higher. If you can safely lower her body temperature and keep it there, you might have a window.”
“A window for what?” I ask.
“For an ER doctor to intervene,” she says. “But only if the heat is controlled. They won’t touch it otherwise. Liability.” She hands me a small pouch. “This dissolves under the tongue. Slowly. It can take the edge off if it hasn’t peaked.”
“And if it has?” Jude asks.
Miss Thea meets his eyes. “Then you manage it at home. Comfort. Monitoring. No panic. You’re an Alpha. You’ve dealt with an Omega in heat before, right?”
“Claire,” he whispers. “But it was never like this.”
My chest tightens.
I knew Norah had moved on. I told myself I was okay with it. But hearing it laid out like this makes something sharp twist inside me.
It shouldn’t sting.
But it does.
“Norah has some of the worst heats I’ve seen,” Miss Thea continues. “I’ve been treating her for years. If you can keep her temperature under one hundred and one, there’s hope to slow it.”
“And if it goes higher?” I ask.
Her voice softens. “Then you stay with her. Constantly. Her cycles last longer than most because of her elevated hormone levels. I wondered why she missed her appointment today. Now I understand.”
She looks between us. “You can handle this. Dorian will give you guidance. He’s done this before.”
Jude swallows hard.
She finishes packing the blends and presses them into my hands. “You know what to do.”
I nod. “I do.”
As we turn to leave, she adds quietly, “She’s lucky she has people around her this time. No one should go through that alone.”
Outside, the cold bites again. I grip the bag tighter, breathing through the pain in my head, through the ache in my chest.
Norah is in heat.
And I’m not leaving her alone in it.
When I told her I was okay with her being with other men as long as she was happy, I clearly lied.
She’s mine, and I’ll make sure that she’s okay.
I turn to her… new man? New lover? Fuck, I don’t even care right now.
All I can manage is a quick, “Let’s go, Jude.”