5. Vayda #3
Dialing the number for the Home Nurses agency comes next. My teeth chatter. A violent shiver wracks my spine as the heat fever takes control of my internal temperature. My skin threatens to melt off my bones.
The dispatcher answers on the first ring.
"This is Vayda Moore, client ID: H45589. My Heat reprieve nurse needs to start their rotation sooner. Tonight at 6pm. A spontaneous heat just hit."
"Your file is pulled up, sweetie." The bored tone on the other end proves she remains unaffected by my panic. "Dispatching the overnight nurse will happen as soon as possible."
I hang up the phone. Pushing off the metal shelf takes effort.
My feet feel like they weigh fifty pounds each.
I have to get to the backyard. I stumble to the side door of the garage to test my failing legs.
The thick, stifling air offers zero relief.
The thought of the shed is the only thing keeping me upright.
I need to get out of this house before Brendan loses his mind.
I stumble out the side door of the garage and land in the backyard. The grass is already starting to grow again, a messy, overgrown patch promising to spin out of control soon. The mild spring air does nothing to cool the raging fire burning under my skin.
Dark spots swim across my vision. A sensation of boiling oil coats my body. Every single nerve ending screams in agony. They demand the weight and the teeth of an Alpha to provide relief.
The shed sits at the far edge of the property line, half-hidden behind a massive oak tree. It looks like a basic shed from the outside, but the interior holds a massive open space. Hale used it as his old carpentry workshop. Now, it stands as my only safe place.
I drag my feet across the lawn, taking shallow, ragged gasps of air. The friction of my yoga pants against my soaked underwear provides a fresh torture. Jolts of electricity shoot straight up my spine. I wrap my arms around my stomach to brace against the massive cramp twisting my insides.
Dropping to my hands and knees in the tall grass leaves me crawling the last few feet. I drag my body up the single wooden step and slump against the shed door.
I reach up, grab the brass handle, and shove the thick door open. I haul my body over the threshold and let the solid wood slam shut behind me. I press the lock button on the inside knob to secure the space. Kristy can use the spare key later.
I collapse onto the swept floorboards and press my cheek against the cool wood. Scrubbing this place top to bottom between cycles never erases the scent. Old cedar, pine cleaner, sawdust, and the stale misery of my previous heats coat the air.
It is a wide, open space. Hale built the workshop years ago.
He added a small bathroom to keep wood dust out of the house.
A tiny toilet and a utility sink sit crammed into the corner behind a plastic privacy curtain.
His foresight is a blessing. Squatting over a bucket while suffering through the fever is a nightmare I don’t want to have..
I drag myself across the floorboards. Pulling my body inch by inch brings me to the massive king-sized mattress shoved into the corner.
Hauling it out here a couple of years ago saved me from writhing on the hard floor.
The bare mattress greets me. Sheets, pillows, and soft blankets are banished.
Building a proper nest without a pack just makes the rejection sickness worse.
It highlights the vast, empty space where my mates belong.
I pull myself up onto the bare mattress and collapse onto my back.
My hips thrust up off the bed. The involuntary reaction battles the agonizing pressure building between my thighs.
A pathetic, broken whine echoes in the large room.
I grab the hem of my oversized t-shirt and shove the fabric into my mouth.
Biting down hard on the cotton keeps the screams trapped in my throat.
The fever spikes higher. The shadows in the corners of the shed shift and warp. The air in the room changes. The ghost of a scent lost years ago thickens around me. Driftwood and orchids.
The brass handle on the door clicks. The hinges whine.
A figure pushes the door open and steps onto the threshold. The bright morning sun behind them turns their body into a dark silhouette.He wears his favorite faded flannel shirt. The sleeves sit rolled up to expose thick, muscular forearms. His dark hair is a mess.
"Emmett." I spit the fabric out of my mouth and reach a trembling hand toward him.
The figure freezes just inside the threshold.
"Please." Tears stream down the sides of my face and soak into the bare mattress. "Come closer. Please help me. It hurts so much, Emmett. Make it stop."
I arch my back and grind my hips against the mattress. Offering myself to the hallucination is instinct. Begging for the relief he used to give is the only option left. I need his teeth in my scent gland. His massive hands holding my hips down is the only cure.
A broken sob rips loose. Surrendering to the agonizing fever takes over. "I need you. Please knot me. I can't do this alone anymore."