Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Karma at her finest. Treacherous bitch.
Theo
I’m cursing my biology to the high heavens right now.
I knew that if I ever got off the suppressants, I would go into heat within days.
And I knew it would be a horrible experience since I’ve forced my true nature to stay hidden for so long.
What I didn’t expect was that I would go into my first heat around a pack that was my scent match.
Karma at her finest. Treacherous bitch.
Of all the ways I could go out, knife in hand, blood on my skin, dead Alphas at my feet, it would be my own damn body that tries to take me down first. Go figure.
My pulse is a wildfire of heat under my skin.
Every nerve feels flayed open. My bones ache.
My thoughts drift in and out like smoke as I sink deeper into the tub.
I know I told the guys I would rather die than go through a heat with them, but I’m starting to doubt myself.
Especially now as Theo continues to drape a cool washcloth over my exposed skin.
Cooling it to a more manageable temperature than previously.
I almost want to kiss him for how gently he is being as his rough hands caress my skin, which is surprisingly helping with the heat needed, not that I would tell him that.
My thoughts become less and less jumbled with each passing minute.
Whereas before all I could focus on was the pain, need, and heat blazing through my body, now I can somewhat sort through my thoughts.
I’m unsure how long I was feverish before Theo decided enough was enough, but I remember pushing the guys away.
I know if they are too close for too long, their instincts will take over, and so will mine.
I instinctively remember telling the guys that I would rather die than allow them to help me through this torture.
I just keep telling myself I’ve survived worse; this will be a walk in the park.
But I’m starting to doubt my strength because in the end dying would make everything I’ve done meaningless.
Every sacrifice. Every Alpha I’ve bled. Every name on my list is carved into my memory.
I didn’t survive hell just to be taken out by my stupid fucking hormones.
Theo sits beside me, a steady and quiet force.
His presence is soothing my Omega’s need to be near an Alpha.
He presses another cool cloth to my neck, then drags it slowly down my arms. The chill makes me shiver, a soft, involuntary sound catching in my throat.
Not one of pain but of pleasure. He murmurs something under his breath, something soothing, but the words blur together.
Water trickles down my neck as Theo softly washes my hair.
I would protect it, but honestly, it feels too good.
The sensation is both a relief and a twisted sort of torment against my senses.
Everything right now is giving me a mix of emotions, and I’m floating somewhere between pain and pleasure when the bathroom door opens.
The click is soft, almost unnoticeable.
But to me, it’s thunder to my ears right now. Everything is heightened, my sense of smell, feeling, and hearing all off the charts. I bet eating food would be like an instant orgasm for my taste buds.
Ever so slowly my eyes drag open, heavily lidded from exhaustion. I’m not sure what or who I was expecting, but then I see him.
Roman.
Seconds later, his scent fills the room, mixing with mine and Theo’s. I want to hate it, but I can’t when it somehow brings me more comfort. He stands in the doorway like a storm barely contained, a tray balanced in his hands, carrying food and water. His jaw is tight and shoulders are rigid.
For a split second, anger surges so violently through me it clears the last of the haze that was surrounding me. Of course he thinks he can just walk in on me at a vulnerable time.
What a typical fucking asshole.
My lip curls in annoyance. I’m ready to bare my teeth at him, to spit venom, and to demand he leave. Maybe even remind him exactly what I’m capable of even now, but then I really look at him. And something inside me falters.
He doesn’t look like the overbearing Alpha ready to demand answers like before. No, he looks… wrecked?
Stressed. Like he hasn’t slept in a week. His eyes, from what I remember and have gotten a glimpse of, usually so controlled-looking, now seem dark with worry.
For me?
The realization hits harder than the fever.
I hate that I even notice. I hate that it matters to me.
I want to hate him like I hate his father, but I’ve always known Roman Shaw was my scent match.
Even before everything happened. I smelled him days before I started taking the suppressant.
My anger stumbles within me, unsure where I should direct it.
Because I know manipulation. I know the take of control tactics Alpha uses, and I know when someone is playing a part.
But this? Him?
This doesn’t look like a performance. He steps further into the room carefully, as if I might snap if he moves too fast. The tray rattles faintly in his grip. His knuckles are white from his grip. And I don’t know how to feel about this, any of it.
I don’t want him to worry for me. Not now that he knows I’m his scent match. And alive. This doesn’t change anything. It can’t.
My body betrays me with another sudden tremor, heat rolling through me in a dizzying wave. Theo’s hand steadies my shoulder, grounding me, and I cling to that sensation instead of the way Roman’s gaze drags over me like he’s cataloging every sign of distress.
“I don’t need you. I can survive this on my own,” I rasp, my voice rough and raw, because I need to say something cruel. Something to make him leave. Something that reminds him and me just who we are now. But even to my own ears, it lacks its usual bite.
Roman doesn’t rise to it. He just stares at me like he’s already imagined that possibility…
and then he zones out. A blank look crosses his face as he stumbles back into the counter, the tray almost crashing to the floor before Theo catches it.
A single question leaves his lips in a whisper, and that’s when I realize his eyes are on the various scars that line my body.
“Oh, Rosie, what happened to you, baby?”