Episode 11 Some Day My Pack Will Come #2
I want to ask if that’s what he means. If finding out I have Rejected Mate Disorder changes things for them. If they’re going to pick me instead because of it.
And even as I think it, I’m torn in two. Logically I know I need them. They are my only cure, my only chance to have a full and healthy life. And beyond that a huge part of me craves them, needs them, still wants them even after what they did to me.
But I wasn’t lying when I said all those weeks ago that if they choose me, I want it to be because I’m me. Because they like me and want me. I don’t want them to be with me out of duty or guilt. I don’t want them to stay just because I’m sick.
But am I really in a position to turn them down if they ask?
“So,” I say, drawing out the word and tracing that same seam with the tip of my finger.
“You flew all the way here because you saw me faint on television and you know I have Rejected Mate Disorder. What’s the plan then?
” I hate the question as soon as it leaves my lips, want desperately to recall it, to take back the last ten seconds.
Because now I’ll know.
They exchange a look that doesn’t take a genius to read. Even in my still hazy state, I see it clear as day.
“You’re not here for good, are you?” I ask even though I know the answer.
Forsythe’s mouth tightens and he shakes his head. “We can’t stay, Florence. I’m sorry.”
A humorless laugh falls from my lips as I look down at the blanket covering my lap. “So what? This is just to assuage your guilt? Come here to reassure yourself that you did everything you could for me, except what I actually need?”
“That’s not-” Thayer starts, but I don’t let him finish.
“You know what I’m facing, don’t you? Lifetime chronic illness.
Unmanageable painful heats even with suppressants, that I’ll go through alone because the idea of anyone touching me but any of you makes me throw up.
Constant body aches. Migraines. Inability to keep down food.
And early death. But what the fuck does that matter right?
So long as you get to make yourselves feel better and then go back to your monarchy approved mate. ”
“That’s enough, sunshine,” Piers says quietly, almost pleading like he doesn’t want to face the reality of what they’ve done to me.
Another laugh. “No. It's not nearly enough. I’m your fated fucking mate. I’m sick. And you’re going to leave me again.”
“Maybe we can work something out,” Grieves says carefully. “You can still be ours and we can help you through your heats, so you don’t suffer. We don’t want you to hurt, bubbles.”
My stomach drops at what he’s insinuating, even as part of me jumps for joy at the idea. My omega wants that, wants her alphas to help us through our heats, to ease the ache, but I understand what he’s not saying, the words he’s dancing around.
“I’ll be yours but you won’t be mine. You’ll tuck me into a cottage in the country, right? Come visit when you get the chance. But in the meantime you’ll be married to Isadora, she’ll be your bonded omega, she’ll bear your children and I’ll be your dirty little secret.”
“Flo-”
I cut my eyes at the prince. “Tell me I’m fucking wrong. You would have everything then right? The perfect noble omega to take out in public and your perfect lowborn whore behind closed doors. Lucky fucking you.”
“No one is calling you a whore, cor mea.” Forsythe sounds exhausted. Like he’s tired of the situation. Tired of me. It hurts. Badly.
I don’t even know why they came.
My gaze drops to the blanket again. “I won’t do it.”
“We’re talking about your life, Pixie,” Courtland says. “We’re talking about you in pain every day for the rest of your life. We’re your alphas, your mates, you can’t expect us to just leave you here to suffer.”
“You’re not my alphas,” I mutter.
“I beg to differ,” Sythe starts, but I cut him off again.
“You aren’t my alphas and you aren’t my mates.
You made sure of that when you rejected me.
I refuse to fall back into your orbit just because you feel guilty that your actions made me sick.
So, just in case you have any doubt, this is me rejecting all of you.
Every single fucking one of you. I don’t want you.
I’ll never want you again. Not if you can ask me to be hidden away forever, to accept being your mistress while you bond another omega.
” I make sure to meet all of their gazes as I say the words.
I hope they all get sick too.
I hope they vomit when they try to touch Isadora.
I hope they experience painful ruts and body aches and migraines.
I hope they can’t see that every word from my lips is a fucking lie.
I give them a simpering smile, one that feels similar to the one that Sythe gave me in front of countless cameras and the filming crew.
“You are an amazing pack. I have enjoyed my time getting to know you… sort of. And I know you’re going to make Isadora very unhappy someday.
But unfortunately, you are not my pack. Now kindly fuck off. ”