Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
NICO
I lied. The bond sickness is getting worse, and I bury my head in my pillow as my body is wracked with anxiety and a twisting pain in my stomach.
Breathing slowly, I grip my pillowcase so tightly, I rip it apart as I beg the pain to ease up. It feels as if I’m being torn apart. Every night, things get worse. I refuse to push Rosa. I know she needs the time, so I’ll give it to her.
I doubt this will kill me. Last night, I simply didn’t bother sleeping, and I found a way to be around her. It’s when I’ve been four and five hours away that the pain sinks into my body.
The phone rings next to me, and I reach out blindly for it as my brothers groan in the bed next to me.
They’re all sprawled out, and I force myself to answer as I walk out the door.
Who needs sleep? Maybe I’ll take the car and sit outside of Pack’s Mayor’s house like a stalker.
Hopefully, the close proximity to her will help.
“Hello,” I growl into the phone without looking at who it is.
“How long are you going to continue this farce with my daughter?” Renzo asks.
“The wedding is a farce to you?” I snort. “You married your daughter off to her scent match without realizing it, old man. It appears the joke is on you. If you want to continue conversations about having access to my assets, it’ll have to be at another time. Bye now.”
Hanging up on him, knowing he couldn’t track that call because I wasn’t on long enough, I begin to pace up and down the hallway. When the phone goes off again, I put it on vibrate, annoyed that a man can’t get a little peace and ignore it.
I drop my head back and swallow down a scream when this continues for the next twenty minutes, until I finally step out onto the back porch to answer it.
“Hello.” It’s a number I don’t have programmed in my phone. It’s almost eleven at night, and I can’t imagine a spam caller deciding this is a good time to sell me a fucking vacuum cleaner.
“Nico, why are you ignoring my calls? Don’t you have Rosa’s new number programmed?” Pablo asks anxiously.
“Actually… I don’t. Are you alright?” I ask, forcing myself to breathe as I speak. I want to sound calm, not as if I’m dying. My heart is racing, my hands shaking, a goddamned mess is what I am.
“Do not play with me, amor. Our bond’s fucking screaming. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I promise him. “I’m good.”
“Since when do we lie to each other? Rosa, wait—”
Ah, am I being tag-teamed by my omegas? It’s nice to see that my wife cares enough to call. Ugh, pain has a way of turning me into an asshole, so I keep my lips clamped closed as I continue walking laps around the backyard.
“Husband. Talk to me.”
“Your father called me,” I say, swallowing around the way the words taste like ashes in my mouth. “I hung up on him. He wanted to know how long I planned to keep playing him. I couldn’t very well tell him I planned to do it right until he died, could I?”
Rosa curses a blue streak in Italian, and I just soak up the sound of her voice. Desperate to do something to hold onto that, I begin recording the call. Maybe listening to her voice will help me when she hangs up. I’ll get my earphones and sleep out on the porch while listening to her.
God, I’m pathetic, aren’t I?
“The man is dying, regardless of how ruthless and mean he is. How bad is your pain, Nico? Pablo is restless and can’t sleep. Don’t be a hero. This is affecting him too.”
“It wasn’t before,” I rasp out, bending forward as a wave of nausea rolls over me. Fuck. “I’m not sure why it is now.”
“You’re impossible, Nico. What do you need?”
You. “Nothing, Rosa. I’m walking it off. I might need to see you tomorrow.”
Talking to her is helping, but I’m not going to tell her that. Closing my eyes against the burning sensation behind them, I focus on breathing as my hearing goes out. All I can hear is ringing in my ears, and my knees buckle as I fall to the ground.
The phone stays in my hand, but only barely. Flopping onto my back to keep from falling on my face, I stare sightlessly up at the stars.
“Nico. Nico!” A slap across my face makes me groan, I see my brother’s too handsome mug above me.
“Dario, I’m fine,” I lie, each word slurring into the other.
“No you’re not. I heard you fall. Ciro and I haven’t been able to sleep, knowing you’re out here.”
“Pshh. You were both snoring when I got up,” I groan.
Ciro plucks the phone from my numb fingers, and I vaguely hear screaming on the other end.
“Rosa, it’s Ciro. He’s being stubborn. Yes. No, he looks like shit.”
“Don’t tell her that,” I pant, forcing myself not to writhe in pain. It feels as if I’m being torn apart, and the only thing I can think of that’s different is that the scent match is now active on both sides.
Goddamnit. I don’t know if I can survive this much pain day in and out. I don’t want to hurt Pablo, but I also don’t want to put unnecessary strain on Rosa. I can’t fucking win. Maybe drugs will help.
“Stronzo. Don’t fucking fall asleep,” Dario growls, pushing his fingers on my lids to hold them open.
“I wish I could sleep,” I grunt. “Then I wouldn’t be a pain in everyone’s ass.”
“Don’t be a hero, Nico. It doesn’t fucking suit you.”
“We’re moving,” Ciro grunts, pocketing my phone in his sweatpants. “Up, asshole.”
Together, my brothers haul me up and begin dragging me back into the house.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my chin drooping to my chest.
“To see Rosa,” Ciro grunts. “Your wife, remember? The woman you gave your undying love to, even as you threatened to fucking divorce her. Why are you the first born? Aren’t they supposed to be the smart ones?”
“No, just the most self sacrificing,” I mutter, eyes beginning to close.
“Wake up!” Dario yells in my ear.
“Ah, motherfucker,” I groan. “Why did God give me such assholes for brothers?”
“To keep you humble, of course,” Ciro replies. “Help, stronzo. Lift those legs!”
“Take me back to bed,” I sigh. “Don’t be obnoxious. It’s too late to go see Rosa.”
“No can do. She, Verona, and Pablo threatened to take turns zapping us with our collars if we didn’t take you to them,” he says.
It’s a miracle I got them to remove those things before we went to bed. They’re fucking insane.
Yes, I see now.
God gave me brothers to teach me patience. Unfortunately, that’s something I own in spades when it comes to these assholes, for the most part. Right now, I want to shoot them both.
“Ugh. Grab a trash can. I may puke in the car,” I complain.
“If it wasn’t so far, I’d suggest a walk, but your legs obviously don’t want to work,” Dario grunts, grabbing a garbage pail for me. “Why didn’t you fucking tell us you were so sick?”
“Pride,” I mutter, swallowing back a yelp of pain as they bump me against the door frame as they exit the house. “If we’re going to stay in Savannah, we need a house, Dario.”
“Adding it to my list,” he says easily, holding me up alone as Ciro locks up. “Tell me what you want for a house. Nah, uh. Help me out, Nico. Stand up, don’t let your legs sag!”
Dario half bullies, half coaxes me into the SUV, before running around to get in beside me.
“Watch the turns, Ciro.” Dario barks out the order as he turns on his voice note to record our conversation, the trash can at the ready in case I puke. “Okay, Nico. Tell me all about this house.”
I know he’s trying to keep me awake and distracted from the drive, and I suck in shallow gasps of oxygen to attempt to stave off the nausea.
“A wrap-around porch, a secret area for a nest for Rosa, and a safe room.” We have too many enemies not to have one. “I don’t want it in the basement. Maybe in a large closet?”
“Okay. We need a weapons closet downstairs too,” Ciro says, driving carefully. “Several rooms with the ability to grow, and a decent living room space. It’s one of Pablo’s favorite areas to hang out in.”
The three of us brainstorm, stopping when I finally lose the battle with my nausea and throw up everything in my stomach.
“Sorry,” I rasp, dropping my head back as I weave.
“Pull over, Ciro, so I can dump this.”
“Fuck. You can’t just throw that into the road, Dario!”
I ignore their bickering, because I know Dario will win. As expected, Ciro pulls over, the trash can is emptied out, and then we continue on our way. It’s none of my business where it was, because my eyes are clamped tightly shut as I breathe slowly in and out.
“Open your mouth,” Dario says. Trusting him, I do, and he pops two breath mints into my mouth. Thankfully, they help my nausea along with freshen my breath. “What area of Savannah do you want?”
“Somewhere close enough to downtown that we don’t need to drive,” I mutter. “Rosa loves walking in that area, and parking was a bear.”
“Okay. I’ll reach out to the real estate agent.”
“Are our men all settling in alright?” I wheeze.
“Yes. They’re keeping their ears to the ground, and some of them are enjoying pretending to be tourists. Not all of them are as stodgy as we are,” Dario says.
“Thank fuck for that. I want some of them to be at the charity event. Get a list to Pack Mayor, please. Choose the ones who will kill without mercy and not lose sleep over it.”
“Yes, Boss.” It’s said teasingly, and I lift my middle finger in his direction without opening my eyes.
“Don’t be a dick, Dario,” I mutter. “We need privacy fences, please. If I want to fuck my wife on the front porch, I don’t want the world to see.”
“Mmhmm,” he says. “The fence will be high enough for a good ole fashioned gang bang, if you wanted one.”
My lips twitch because now he’s just being ridiculous.
“Love you too.”
“We’re here,” Ciro murmurs, pulling over as I open my eyes. Unfortunately, I have quite the greeting party, and Pack Mayor is waiting in the driveway, along with Rosa, Verona, and Pablo.
“They’re going to think I’m faking it,” I worry, shoving the door open.
“If you attempt to get out alone, you’ll fall on your face and prove them wrong. The downside to that is you’ll look like an idiot. Wait for me,” Ciro growls, hopping out of the driver side seat.
Dario holds me under my arms as Ciro helps out, following me out to help brace my weight.
“Ugh, just fucking kill me.”
“Shut up, Nico.”
I’m forced to shuffle along like an old man as they help me walk, and Silas’s eyes widen when he sees us.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks. “We followed Pablo and the girls out when Easton caught sight of them racing through the garden.”
“Bond…sickness,” I ground out. My voice sounds like I’m smoking four packs of cigarettes a day.
“Pablo—”
“Not me…Rosa, Silas,” Pablo mutters in horror. “I called him because I’ve been feeling off. He kept ignoring my calls.”
I shrug because I know I’m difficult. I promised Rosa space, and yet here I am at her doorstep hours later. The omega in question stalks up to me and slaps me, which does nothing for my current condition.
“Rosa, perhaps beating the hell out of your husband isn’t the best course of action,” Lyle drawls, wincing as my wife spears him with a glare.
“You,” she growls, turning her attention back to me. “How fucking dare you not tell me you were suffering?”
“I promised…you space,” I rasp. I’m not sure why I’m not feeling better simply by being in her presence. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work? “This isn’t space, my love. I believe this is the opposite of that.”
“Stop lying to me. Is this because the alpha blockers failed? Which is completely my fault. I should have reapplied the damn thing,” she says, sniffling.
Ugh. Now I made my wife cry. I’m a crummy fucking husband.
“Rosa…” My eyes roll back as I collapse between my brothers, and she grabs me around the waist.
“Skin contact,” Dario says, pulling my shirt up until Rosa is touching me. It helps slightly, and Silas sighs.
“Verona, what do we do with him?”
“Obviously, we drag the caveman back to the guesthouse,” she murmurs. “Rosa, keep your hands on him, baby. No one is going to sleep well until Nico is situated.”
“Sorry,” I gasp, almost bending over in half as pain wracks my body.
“Hush. That’s not how I meant it,” Verona says softly. Can she tell even my ears hurt? Maybe she can. “Nice and easy, guys.”
Each step is a fucking challenge as I shuffle along between my brothers. Just as I get to the open gate, I hear someone approach behind me.
“I found the wheelchair from when I broke my leg skiing a few years ago,” Easton says, easing it behind me until I can collapse into it. My brothers lift my feet into the footplates, and then Easton pushes me while Rosa keeps her hand on the back of my neck as she walks beside us.
“Alphas have gone feral for less than this,” she hisses in my ears. “I’m so fucking mad at you.”
“Sì, cuore mio.” My head lolls as if it’s too heavy to lift, and she holds it up worriedly.
I hate that she’s seeing me like this. My body doesn’t want to respond to me, and I blissfully pass out halfway through the garden.
I can’t die from bond sickness, right? Right?