Chapter 26 Liam
LIAM
My eyes burn. Three blinks and I still can't focus properly on the mug clutched between my palms. Cold coffee, probably from yesterday. Maybe the day before. Time has blurred into one endless stretch of monitoring vitals and trying not to watch Violet come apart in Garrick's arms.
The apartment is finally quiet. Just breathing now, soft and even from the nest where all three of them tangle together.
Violet curls between my pack brothers, her dark hair spilling across Garrick's broad chest while Xaden's arm drapes over both of them.
Blankets cocoon them in layers that smell like pack and sex and something deeper.
Something that makes my alpha whine with longing.
Completion.
I force my gaze away from her throat. Can't keep staring at those marks like some creep.
But they draw my attention anyway, vivid red against pale skin.
Xaden's sits on the left, already bruising purple around the edges where blood pooled beneath the surface.
Garrick's mirrors it on the right, fresh enough that I can still see individual teeth pressed into her flesh.
Beautiful. Claiming. And empty space on her shoulders where mine should rest.
Two bites. Two bonds. Two alphas who were brave enough to claim what they wanted while I sat here playing doctor.
My hands shake around the mug. The ceramic has gone cold, all warmth long vanished.
Exhaustion or want, I can't tell anymore.
Haven't slept more than twenty minutes at a stretch since this started.
Can't. Someone needs to monitor her temperature, ensure she stays hydrated, watch for complications that happen during natural heats.
Someone needs to be responsible.
I'm sitting on the floor, back pressed to the wall.
The plaster feels cool through my thin t-shirt, grounding me.
My jeans are wrinkled, stained with coffee I spilled sometime yesterday.
Dark brown against faded denim. The shirt has seen better days, stretched out and damp with sweat that dried and dampened again.
Haven't showered since this began. Haven't eaten much either, too focused on keeping everyone else alive.
Same as always.
Take care of everyone. Ignore yourself.
Outside, the storm shifts. Wind no longer screaming, just gusting now. Each burst rattles the old window frames. Snow still falls but lighter, flakes drifting instead of pelting. Through the glass, I glimpse gray sky instead of solid white. Dawn approaches. The storm breaks.
Right on schedule. Three days. Most heats last three days without suppressants.
This one nears its end.
My chest tightens at the thought. Pressure builds behind my ribs. Relief mixed with something else. Something that tastes like disappointment even though I know it shouldn't.
She bonded to Xaden and Garrick. Bears their marks, their claims. Smells like them now, pack scent woven through her vanilla and honey until you can't separate individual notes. Coffee and burnt sugar mixing with sweetness until it becomes just us.
She doesn't need me. Doesn't need a third alpha cluttering pack dynamics.
My medical bag sits beside me, supplies neatly organized. The leather worn smooth from years of use. Bandages. Antiseptic. Pain medication. Electrolyte packets I've been mixing into her water. Everything she might need.
Everything except what I want to give.
I check my watch. Six AM. The numbers glow faintly in dim light. Been monitoring her sleep cycle, timing the waves. She's due for another one soon. The final peak before heat breaks completely.
Last chance.
The thought makes my hands clench into fists. Coffee sloshes in the mug, threatening to spill.
Violet shifts in the nest. Small movement, rolling onto her back. Blankets fall away from her shoulders, revealing bare skin and those two marks. She wears one of my shirts now, gray cotton drowning her curves. Someone must have dressed her after Garrick's knot went down.
Taking care of her. Like always.
Her breathing changes. Deepens. Each exhale longer than the last. I watch her eyelids flutter, telltale signs of consciousness returning. Her nose twitches, scenting even before she fully wakes. Drawing in air and processing what she smells.
Then her eyes open. Brown and clear and locked on me immediately.
"Liam." My name comes out rough, sleep-thick. Her voice sounds scratchy, raw from screaming. "How long have you been sitting there?"
"Few hours." I shift, joints cracking from too long in one position. My knees protest, stiff and aching. "Making sure everyone's okay."
"Everyone." She sits up slowly, carefully. Each movement deliberate. Garrick and Xaden don't stir, both deep in post-bonding sleep. "You mean making sure I'm okay while ignoring yourself."
"I'm fine."
"You look exhausted." She crawls out of the nest now, moving toward me. The hardwood creaks under her weight. "When did you last sleep? Really sleep?"
"Don't need much." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
"Liar." She settles beside me, back against the wall.
The plaster feels cool, same temperature as where I lean.
Close enough that our shoulders touch. Her scent hits me full force, vanilla and honey mixed with Xaden's coffee and Garrick's burnt sugar.
Pack. "You've been taking care of everyone. Who takes care of you?"
The question cracks something in my chest. Sharp pain that steals my breath. Because nobody takes care of the caretaker. That's not how it works.
"I have the medical training," I say quietly. My voice sounds hollow. "Taking care of people is what I do."
"You're also an alpha. With needs. Wants." Her hand finds mine, fingers lacing together. Her palm radiates warmth, soft against my rough skin. "When do you get to have what you want?"
"After everyone else is taken care of."
"And if what I want is to take care of you?" She squeezes my hand. Her grip feels firm, grounding. "What then?"
I look at her. Really look. Her hair is a mess, tangled and wild like she's been through a storm.
Dark strands going every direction. Two bite marks on her throat, claiming her as pack.
Raised and red, the skin around them slightly swollen.
My shirt hangs off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin and the curve of her collarbone.
The hollow at the base of her throat where her pulse beats steadily.
She's perfect. Bonded. Theirs.
"You already have two alphas," I point out. The words scrape out. "Don't need a third cluttering things up."
Her expression shifts. Confusion bleeds into something that might be hurt. Her brows draw together. "Cluttering things up? You think you'd be cluttering?"
"You have Xaden's tactical mind. Garrick's steady presence. What do I bring that you don't already possess?" The confession tears out of me. Raw. Honest. "What makes me necessary?"
"Are you serious right now?" She turns to face me fully, pulling her hand free.
Both palms come up to frame my face, forcing me to meet her gaze.
Her skin burns hot, still fever-warm from the heat.
"You've been here for three days. Monitoring me.
Making sure I stay hydrated. Checking my temperature.
Holding my hair when I threw up yesterday.
Staying awake so the others could sleep. And you think you're cluttering?"
"That's just medical care." I try to pull away but her grip tightens.
"That's love, you idiot." Her thumbs stroke my cheekbones. "You show love by caring. By being present. By making sure everyone stays safe even when you're falling apart."
The words hit harder than they should. Truth cuts through every defense I've built. Because she's right. I am falling apart. Have been for three days, watching her with them. Wanting her. Holding back because being professional felt safer than being vulnerable.
"I'm not falling apart," I mutter. The lie sounds weak even to my own ears.
"Your hands are shaking." She's right. They are. Fine tremors I can't control. "When did you last eat?"
"Yesterday. Maybe." Time blurred together, one long stretch of monitoring and waiting. Hours bleeding into each other.
"Liam." Her voice goes soft. Tender in a way that makes my throat tight. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"
"Because someone has to be responsible." The words come out rough, scraped raw. Like sandpaper on exposed nerves. "Someone has to make sure everyone stays safe."
"And?"
"And I don't know how to be anything else." The confession tears out of me. Something I've never said aloud. "Don't know how to not be the one taking care of everyone."
Understanding flashes across her face. Her eyes soften, warm with compassion. "So now you just... never ask for what you need?"
"Something like that."
"That's not fair to you." She moves closer now, practically in my lap. Her vanilla scent wraps around me. "You deserve to be cared for too."
"I don't know how to let anyone care for me," I admit. The vulnerability feels like being flayed open.
"Then let me teach you." She shifts, straddling my lap. Her thighs bracket my hips. Hands on my shoulders, eyes locked on mine. "Let me take care of you for once."
"Violet." Her name comes out strained. Broken. "Your heat's almost over. You don't have to..."
"It's not over yet." She rocks her hips against mine and I feel how wet she is through my jeans. Heat and slick soaking through denim. "One more wave. The final peak. And I want you for it."
"You don't need me. You have..." I start, but she cuts me off.
"Stop." A finger presses against my lips. Soft pressure. "Stop telling me what I need. I need you, Liam. Not because you're convenient. Not because my heat demands it. Because I love you."
The words stop my heart. Everything goes still. Silent.
“D you love me?" My voice cracks on the question.