Episode 13 The Damage Done #2
“You went to save her?” Thayer asks like her answer matters.
Haven lets out a humorless laugh. “Of course, I did. She’s my best fucking friend, the best person I know. I went in with a gun and shot him before he could hurt her anymore. Broke through every command he ever gave me to do it, but I did.”
“He’s dead?” Courtland asks, sounding halfway to feral.
Haven meets his gaze, her grey eyes steely with determination. “He is.”
They both relax slightly, though I can still feel the anger radiating off of them. “Why did you tell us this?”
Haven slowly climbs to her feet, using their shoulders to leverage her swollen body up, brushing off the seat of her pants before she bends and places her small hands on either of their shoulders.
“I told you this because Florence had two dreams in her life. To be a dancer and to find her pack. I stole one of those dreams away, shattered it with a swing of my father’s hammer.
And she still loves me. I’m pretty sure she loves me more today than she did when it happened.
She is without a doubt the kindest, most forgiving soul I know.
If I can be the reason she lost one of her dreams and she can still love me, imagine how hard she’ll love you if you give her one of her dreams back. ”
She pats their shoulders and turns toward the house, catching me standing there outside the door.
“I can’t believe you told them,” I hiss at her as she waddles closer.
She shrugs. “They deserve to know, and it’s my story to tell as much as it is yours.” She pats my cheek. “Be mad at me all you want, but you’ll see it’s for the best in the long run.”
And then she disappears into the house, leaving me with two alphas who have the ability to ruin me. They’re both on their feet, watching me with a hungry intensity that is not entirely sexual. More like they’re just drinking in the sight of me, men dying of thirst in the desert and I’m an oasis.
Too bad it’s all a mirage.
“How are you feeling?” Court asks cautiously, taking a step forward like he needs to be a little closer to me before he draws up short.
“Better,” I answer honestly and sharply. I do feel better and don’t I just resent them for it? After all, it’s only a matter of time before they leave me, abandon me again to return to the omega they chose over their fated mate.
“Did you eat?” Thayer shifts, eyes flicking in the direction of the kitchen and the massive amounts of food I found there. Are they the ones responsible for it?
I nod. “I did.”
“Good,” he all but sighs. “That’s good. What did you have?”
“Why does it matter?”
He shrugs and moves toward me, slowly like I’m a rabbit that might flee if he comes at me too fast, and honestly, I might. “Just want to make sure my omega is eating enough. That she’s getting all the nutrients she needs to help her heal.”
Goddammit. Why does that make my heart go all melty and my omega sigh in my chest? As if ensuring I’m fed is some kind of grand gesture, when really it’s just alpha biology, instinct.
My head tips back as he comes to a stop in front of me, his blue eyes running over my face. “Tell me.”
Madness. That’s what this is. The way he can unravel me with just a look and a few words. How he can send all my resolve scattering.
My tongue darts out to wet my lips. “I had a muffin.”
There’s a pause as if he expects me to say more. When I don’t, his face folds into a scowl. “That’s it? A muffin? No fruit or protein? Did you eat dinner last night?”
I scowl at him. “You know I didn’t. I was burning up with fever and passed out.”
“What kind of muffin?” Court asks from right next to me, making me jump. Jesus. I hadn’t even heard him move.
“Double chocolate.”
“So basically cake? You had cake for breakfast?”
I shrug. “It’s better than nothing, right?”
They both stare down at me, and I have a brief moment of gratitude that this is what they want to focus on, rather than what Haven told them.
“It’s not enough.” Thayer uses a grip on my shoulders to spin me around and march me right back to the kitchen.
There he urges me onto a stool at the island hovering like he’ll physically force me to stay on the stool if he needs to, which he might have to.
I’m feeling that need to flee before they can press me for specifics about what happened with Haven’s father.
Court, seeming to sense the same thing Thayer is, drapes himself over my back, bracing his hands on the counter, caging me in his arms. The scent of spiced cranberries wraps around me, soothing my omega after a restless night.
His breath puffs over my neck, my ear and I find myself melting into him in increments, until I’m leaning against him, and he’s brushing tiny kisses over as much of me as he can reach.
Thayer works on making a plate for me, his movements sure and precise and when he slides the food in front of me I almost laugh at the neat piles of food, not one of them touching.
Eggs. Sausages. Fruit. Toast. And, weirdly, grilled tomatoes and sauteed mushrooms. Not typically things I would eat for breakfast.
He points a finger in my face when I only stare down at the abundance of food in front of me. “You need to eat at least half of this, more if you can manage. You’ve lost too much weight since the show.”
He’s not wrong. Vomiting up a good portion of the things you manage to swallow down will do that to a person. But before that disastrous interview, I’m pretty sure my body was finally reaching its new normal, balancing out the heartbreak and the sickness and finding a medium.
Not a happy one. But medium all the same.
But the amount of food he’s heaped on this plate I wouldn’t have been able to eat when I was feeling my best and dancing for six hours a day.
“Just try, Pix,” Court murmurs into my hair.
With a sigh I pick up the fork, spear a sausage and nibble on the end of it. Both alphas watch me with keen interest as I do. It's more than a little disconcerting, especially with the pleased looks on their faces.
They’re silent as they watch me eat, Court behind me pressed into my back, and Thayer standing on the other side of the island hands pressed into the stone like he’s trying to keep from reaching for me.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say eventually.
“About what, Pix?” Court murmurs, his breath warm against the shell of my ear.
“About what happened with Haven’s- with Frederick Bell.” I force myself to say his name, even through my tight throat. Like someone said in Harry Potter, ‘fear of a name increases fear of a thing itself’ and Frederick Bell is nothing to be feared. Certainly not anymore.
They both go still, like maybe they’re waiting for me to say more, but I’m not going to.
Finally Thayer sighs and nods. “Fair enough. We have other things we need to talk about.”
I tense, readying to flee. Court’s arms go around me, holding me tight to his chest as a purr rumbles out of him. I melt against him, my omega all but rolling over and showing her stomach.
“Just wait, Pix,” he murmurs. “Please.”
Thayer reaches over the island and taps the side of my plate. “Keep eating, killer. You’re going to need your strength.”
“I’m not hungry anymore,” I say honestly, pushing the plate away.
The thought of needing to have a real conversation with them, of having them try to convince me yet again that I need to return to Bravonne with them, let them tuck me away like a kept woman only good for fucking, has stolen what little progress my stomach had made.
Court makes a frustrated sound and in a flash I’m being shifted, lifted and then he’s under me and I’m sitting on his lap. He drags the plate back in front of me, spears a mushroom and holds it to my lips.
I don’t eat it. I’m a little afraid if I do, I’ll vomit all over Haven’s kitchen counter.
Even with them here with me, my body is still out of whack, in an in-between state of thrilled that my pack is with me, and braced for the other shoe to drop, for them to leave me all over again.
“Please, killer,” Thayer says. “Please. I can’t… my alpha needs you to eat more.” As if that should supersede my body's needs.
“Well, my omega needed you not to ruthlessly reject me, but here we are.” I’m being a little out of line here, and I feel it when they both flinch.
In truth they were as gentle with me as they could have been given the circumstances.
They didn’t want to hurt me, I know that.
But it doesn’t change the fact that they did.
“You should have sent me home first,” I mutter. “I told you to. If you had, this wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have gotten sick.”
“Are you sure about that?” Forsythe’s voice smacks into me from the direction of the patio, followed by the thunder of feet over the hardwood floors.
Piers, Grieves and the prince himself step into view, all looking more than a little haggard this morning.
I frown, thinking back. They looked a little haggard last night when I think about it.
But that’s to be expected when you fly halfway around the world to get to the woman you rejected on international television when she collapses during an interview.
For the first time I realize that they did that.
Left Bravonne and ran to my side as quickly as they could. It makes my heart ache a little. It's obvious they care to some extent, or else they wouldn’t be here.
Is it care? Or is it duty? Some insidious part of me whispers.
“I’m pretty sure if you’d sent me home first my omega wouldn’t have gotten attached,” I tell him, as Court cuddles me closer.
I should get off his lap, should stand on my own two feet away from all of them.
But for the first time in forever, I feel…
good. My body doesn’t ache and my skin doesn’t feel flushed with fever.
My head is clearer than it has been in weeks.
The state of my stomach notwithstanding, I almost feel normal.