Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
ALISA
I’m staring at a broody, beautiful man who hasn’t realized I’m awake yet.
For everything that’s happened to me, I can still admit when I see beauty.
I’m gazing at him from the cover of my lashes, still wondering why I’m here.
Nothing makes sense to me, because people aren’t this nice unless they want something.
I haven’t been woken by cattle prods, no one has attempted to rape me, and my hands are free. Glancing under the blankets covering me, I reassure myself that I’m wearing clothes. A tank top, pajama pants and…oh there’s panties too. Holy shit.
This is a better situation than I’ve been in for over a year. My life is really fucking sad.
All I can smell is…nothing. There’s a hint of antiseptic and the scent of IV fluid, but otherwise the air is clear.
It’s hard to concentrate because my brain feels a little rattled. From far away, I remember an alpha spraying himself with descenting spray. Maybe the hulking man sitting beside me did the same.
“Are you ready to stop pretending you’re asleep?” he asks.
“No.” I open my eyes all the way anyway, and there’s relief in his emerald eyes.
“Glad to hear it. How do you feel?”
“Fuzzy,” I frown. “And my head kind of hurts.”
“Head pains can be a sign of hunger,” he murmurs. “It happens to me when I work out too hard and forget to stop to eat.”
“You’re too big to forget,” I mumble before I can stop myself.
His lips twitch in amusement as he manspreads in the chair he’s sitting in.
“Thanks for noticing all the training I do on the ice. Dr. Walsh is going to heat some food up for you. Silas left something in the fridge before he left the house. He noticed you were awake before I did. You’re not sneaky.”
Ha, says him. I recognize Silas’ name as the alpha I spoke to earlier, but have no idea how much time has gone by.
“Who are you and what do you do on the ice? I’ve lived a really sheltered life.”
“That’s okay. I play hockey professionally. I have to go on the road soon, but I wanted to see you.”
“Why? I don’t know you.”
“I fear that my manners have gone to shit,” he apologies, holding out his hand. “My name is Troy Evans. Since you’ve bled all over me, I forgot we haven’t formally met.”
“What?” I take his hand, eyes widening when a warm shock makes me gasp softly. It’s like when you’re shocked from static electricity, but this is a little softer. It doesn’t hurt, simply feels odd.
“Hmm. That was weird, huh?” Troy squeezes my hand and then releases it. “If you’re okay with chatting, I’d love to catch you up on a few things.”
“I’m your captive audience,” I mumble.
“Not captive. Free,” he grunts. “You have choices, Alisa. You’re alive. I don’t know what’s happened to you, but my small life experience has taught me that bad shit doesn’t have to define you. I’m still trying to remind myself of this pretty often.
“We found you bleeding out in a warehouse and our first instinct was to get you medical care. It comes without strings. You’re going to be recovering for a hot minute, Alisa. Silas calls you a little fighter and I think he’s right.”
“What do you know about bad shit?” I ask weakly. “You’re so…big.”
“And vulnerable while I’m unconscious,” he admits. “I’ll tell you about it if you want, but this isn’t about me. Ah, Dr. Walsh is back.”
“Indeed I am,” the doctor says drolly. He’s carrying a bowl of soup, and Troy easily takes it from him. “Please eat slowly. Then I want you to use the restroom afterward, alright?”
“I feel gross,” I admit, wrinkling my nose. “I’ve never experienced bleeding like this before.”
“Beta women have periods but omegas don’t,” he says patiently. “The miscarriage changes things and that’s why you’re bleeding. There’s still a lot of blood and it’ll be like this for another day before it slows down. You’re going to continue to cramp for a while. I’m sorry it’ll be uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t do this,” I mumble. I remember telling him I wasn’t sorry for the miscarriage. I want to believe I would be able to love any child that’s mine because of the biological bond.
The problem is it’s not just my baby, but Jai, Max, or Dennis’ too. God, I’m not strong enough to handle seeing their faces looking back at me every damn day.
Gasping in a breath, I begin panicking. I feel air starved and as if there’s a piano sitting on my chest.
“Alisa.” Troy places the bowl on the nightstand and leans forward to squeeze my hand. “Whatever it is, you’re safe.”
“I could… This was…I can’t…” I’m not making any fucking sense and the doctor quickly comes closer to me.
“But it isn’t,” he growls. “This baby is no longer a baby. Your body is having a miscarriage because you can’t carry it to term.
There are blessings in life no one understands, and this is one of them.
I know you didn’t consent to the sexual assault that led to this because it’s written on your skin like a book, Alisa.
If you wish to have children later, I see no reason why you can’t. ”
“I’m not ruined?” I ask, desperately needing to know. “The medications…”
“With your consent, I can run blood tests to see what’s going on,” he says. “However, I can’t draw blood until you eat. Let me prop you up so Troy can help you.”
“I can feed myself.” My airway seems to open the longer he speaks to me. I’m in control. My words have power.
They’re going to listen to me when I speak.
“I’m sure you can, but I would really like to help,” Troy says, watching as Dr. Walsh helps me sit up and fixes my pillows. “There are other things to discuss and I don’t want you spilling on your skin. You don’t need to add burn marks to your list of injuries.”
“That’s dramatic,” I mumble.
“Alphas often are,” Dr. Walsh murmurs, sitting on the other side of me. “It’s your call, Alisa. He’ll still hover and watch you eat.”
“Ugh.”
“You’re too thin and I don’t like it,” Troy growls.
“What is with you and Silas? Both of you are obsessed with feeding me.”
“He gets on me for forgetting to eat too. We’re special like that.”
Picking up the soup, he blows on a spoonful, testing it by sipping a bit first to test the warmth.
“Not bad. At least you know it’s not poisoned,” he shrugs, offering the next bite. Glancing at the doctor, I watch as he shrugs and hides a smile.
“Take another bite, please. I’ve had my food messed with before.”
Troy growls but returns the spoon to the bowl, mixes the broth around and then takes another large bite.
“We would never fuck with your food, Alisa.”
“I don’t trust anyone.” I’m unapologetic as I open my mouth after waiting for him to pass out or need to shit.
It honestly would work against all the work the doctor has put in to keep me alive, but people do things I don’t understand often. Troy begins to feed me the soup, and I watch as the tension in his shoulders begins to relax.
“I see several bites on your skin. Can we talk about those? They affect your immediate health and I’m concerned about them,” the doctor says.
“They, the people who kept me hostage, used to bite me to see if they could force a bond,” I explain.
There’s no harm in telling them this, it’s simply a part of what led me to this bed.
This isn’t about trust, it’s a puzzle piece the doctor needs.
“I used to feel the bond trying to connect, but I was able to fight it off. They decided to keep weakening me to see if that would help. Food got more scarce and so did water.”
“Yet you still fought them off.” The doctor sounds proud of me but I don’t feel as if that’s a huge accomplishment.
“I don’t know if I could have lasted much longer,” I admit. “Some of the bites aren’t healing.”
“I noticed that. I have antibiotics in your IV, but it may not help until you get stronger. Are you willing to do the work to heal?”
I look at him helplessly because I don’t know if I can. My body is wrecked.
“Eating is a part of that work,” Troy says gently. “You’re already doing it.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Building your strength is how you fight against bonds your body doesn’t want,” Dr. Walsh says.
“Recuperation and living your life. Also, killing them would greatly help break these bonds. If they’re not in the world of the living, your inner omega won’t struggle against their will to make you theirs. ”
“I am a big fan of this,” Troy mumbles. “Huge.”
“Normal people don’t talk about killing like this. Why can’t I be rescued by normal, boring alphas?” I sigh.
“Boring and normal can’t help you get your life back.” An alpha dressed in black cargo pants and a black long sleeved shirt leans against the door, his eyes drinking me in. He has white hair that reminds me of someone who used to be blonde, and while he has intense blue eyes, they seem concerned.
“You’re back, East. I thought you had to work?” Troy asks.
“It’s almost eleven, Troy. I’m done.”
“Eleven what?” I ask, glancing at the window. The curtains are heavy and the type that blocks out all the light. Even if the sun was shining, I doubt I’d be able to tell.
“It’s nighttime, Alisa. Lyle is on his way home, as is Silas. They both ran late with their meetings,” the man says.
At my confused look, he nods and stays where he is.
“Let me back up, shall I? You are currently in my home. I am one-third of Pack Mayor.”
“You found me,” I say, showing him I’m tracking what he’s saying.
“Yes. You were asleep when I went to work. It’s nice to see you’re awake. Silas texted me he was chasing down a lead with some dear friends of ours, and it’s regarding the brand you have,” he says.
“I hate that thing,” I grumble, accepting another spoonful of soup before telling Troy I’m full.
“We can discuss removing it,” Dr. Walsh says. “You’re in charge of your care and your life, Alisa.”
“Why would your friends know anything about me?” I ask East. That’s what Troy called him, so I suppose this may be his name.
East’s hair looks as if he’s been running his fingers through it. Whatever he does for work must be rough if he was there so late.
“My friends ran into you on the street over the summer with their omegas. Do you remember them?” East asks.