Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cormac
Trying to rush the process of breaking someone’s will to live isn’t recommended. My father taught me much of what I know, and there are steps that I follow for a reason. Moving too quickly through those steps can cause shock.
McCarthy is still in the denial phase. He truly believes his brothers will find a way to save him. I’ve informed him all about how the last three Demons’ members in Boston met their demise.
No one from the home chapter in Florida knows he’s alive.
They wouldn’t have any idea where to even begin looking.
He still has hope that I’ll fuck up, and he’ll be able to kill me and make his escape.
Little does he know, this place is a fortress.
If he managed to take me out, he’d still be trapped inside without the code to exit.
I expect he’ll be ready to talk within three days, but I once again shut off all lights to his cell and dose him with a hallucinogenic and an upper before leaving him to rot the rest of the day away.
He’s got quite the tolerance to, well, every drug I’ve tested on him, but that points to a heavy history of recreational drug use.
We’ll have to see how he feels when he isn’t the one in charge of making the call for when it’s time to get off the ride.
It bothers me that I wasn’t able to gain more information. Unfortunately, at this point, all we can do is wait for his will to break.
Hurrying through my shower, I dress in sweats and a T-shirt before popping into Charlotte’s room. Only, I don’t make it far before stopping dead in my tracks.
Pat has Charlotte’s hands pinned above her head. He’s on top of her—still clothed from the waist down—and they’re kissing. She’s only in her bra and panties, but I’m more confused by whatever he’s holding to the side of her neck with his free hand.
My head tilts.
I still can’t figure out what it is, but Charlotte attempts to squirm away from it.
Huh.
Apparently he’s torturing her while distracting her with a kiss.
That can’t be right.
I prowl closer.
Patrick must clock me approaching because he pulls back from their kiss. Charlotte follows his lips, but a low growl rattles out of his chest as he bares his teeth at me.
I jolt, more out of surprise than fear.
What climbed up his ass and died?
“What was that about?” I ask, my brow furrowing.
Pat shakes his head and moves to kneel between Charlotte’s thighs, rather than being stretched out over her. “I didn’t mean to growl at you. My instincts are all fucked up.”
My nostrils flare, scenting the air.
I’m smacked with Charlotte’s perfume and the smell of Patrick’s arousal. The latter causes my nose to wrinkle, and I have the irrational urge to tell him to get out so he can’t corrupt Charlotte’s delectable cherry limeade scent.
“Get your ass over here,” Patrick growls.
“Cormac,” Charlotte gasps, twisting her head to smile at me. She stretches her hand across the bed, wiggling her fingers.
She looks pleased to see me. No one ever seems that excited when I walk into a room. The fluttering in my stomach takes me by surprise. I rarely feel anything too deeply, but I’ve been attracted to her since we met, and I want her to want me just as badly as I ache for her.
Patrick uses her distraction to pull what I can now tell is an ice pack off her neck, relocating it to her stomach. Apparently there was one on the other side, and he moves that one next.
Charlotte doesn’t like it at all, and her hands fly to her sides to try to pry them off. “I hate you so much!”
“Yeah, I know. You keep saying it, and I keep distracting you by shoving my tongue into your mouth. This is the second set of ice packs that we’ve gone through.
” Patrick chuckles. “Luckily, we have Cormac to help out. If he would ever get his slow ass over here.” His words push me into action, and I take the last few steps to the bed, climbing on.
“She’s burning up. I gave her fever reducers about an hour ago.
I busted out the ice packs after that because I didn’t know what else to do.
She’s not whining or begging. Isn’t that what they said during our alpha and omegas dynamics class?
That we would know what to do based on what an omega begs for? ”
Patrick never sounds scared, and that alone sends a shock of panic through my system.
“You’re not feeling good?” I ask, brushing my fingers over Charlotte’s cheek.
She shakes her head. “No, and it doesn’t help that your brother is torturing me.”
“You say I’m torturing you. I say I’m trying to help bring your fever down.
” Patrick rolls his eyes. “They aren’t joking when they say omegas get moody during waves of heat.
” He grabs the ice packs and climbs off her before dropping them on the nightstand and lying down at her side. “You try taking over.”
Charlotte twists her head to face me. Her eyes are glassy, and her cheeks are pink.
Not to mention her sweaty hairline. They’re all physical signs of going into heat, or that’s what they taught us in school.
With her pheromones being so thick they have to qualify as a perfume, it seems likely this is a heat spike caused by going too long without her suppressants.
“We should get you settled in the nest,” I say on autopilot. “Being in a more confined space might help settle your system.”
“What I really need is my pills,” she whimpers, leaning up until her hands meet my hips.
She doesn’t hesitate to give me a solid tug, and I carefully move to lie next to her rather than falling on top of her.
I don’t think she wants me to squish her.
“Until they get here. I need your scent. Both of you. Cuddle me.”
Okay, maybe she did want me lying directly on top of her like Patrick was doing.
“I texted Keegan to get more ice packs,” Patrick says. “And I’m texting the household staff now to ask them to freshen up the nest.”
“If it smells like another omega, I really don’t want to go anywhere near it,” Charlotte says, brushing her fingers over my cheek.
“No one has been in the nest in years. We don’t use the pack bedroom at all,” I tell her, nuzzling my nose to hers. “Don’t worry. The pills will be here soon, and we’ll take care of you in the meantime.”
“You know what?” Patrick chuckles. “The housekeepers are more thorough than I realized. Apparently they’ve been cleaning the pack bedroom weekly since forever.” He rolls off the edge of the bed and starts grabbing a bunch of bags. “Collect the omega. We’re relocating.”
“I can’t leave this room. It’s right next to Lucky’s,” Charlotte croaks.
“Yeah, see, your perfume saturating the place is one thing, but you’re probably going to want some privacy until your system settles down.
” Patrick chuckles. “Whoever keeps an eye on Lucky will be most comfortable in this room. Right now the maids can swap the bedding, and the space is good to go. If you soak the mattress in your slick, that’s a whole different level of cleanup. ”
“That is…” Charlotte’s eyes narrow, but she finally nods. “A good point.”
Okay.
I guess we’re swapping rooms.
The pack bedroom is even more spacious than the room Charlotte was in originally, but the bed is a four-poster style that allows the curtains to be dropped or tied back as needed.
It also has a TV screen that pops out of the table at the end of the bed. I make a mental note to log in for Charlotte so she can watch the cameras in Lucky’s room.
After a small battle with Patrick over not wanting to have her temperature taken, she finally gives in when he threatens to break out the ice packs. The screen turns red, beeping obnoxiously, and that seems like a bad sign.
“The ice packs and soaking up my pheromones haven’t done much,” Patrick says, rolling over to put the thermometer down after removing the cover. “All right. Snuggle my brother so you can get some of his pheromones. Maybe mine are broken.”
I don’t think pheromones can malfunction. At least not in that way, but it would be inappropriate to say aloud what I think she needs.
She rolls toward me, but not on top of me. “Can you take off your shirt?”
I nod, pushing myself up using my forearms. Once that’s tossed aside, I lie back down. “You’re more than welcome to snuggle right on top of me. I’ll do whatever I can to help bring your fever down. I want you to feel better.”
“Thank you.” She whimpers, scooting close to my side before rolling on top of me. It leaves part of her side on the bed, but most of her front on mine. She brings a hand up to cradle my cheek, and I wish I could focus on that, but she is alarmingly hot.
“Be right back.” Patrick climbs off the bed, and I almost growl at him to stay.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
My hand flies to Charlotte’s back as she burrows her face between my arm and my chest. She ends up nose deep in my armpit, and I pray my after-torture shower left me smelling fresh, because I’m fairly sure I didn’t stop to reapply my deodorant.
Checking on her felt like the priority, but now I’m questioning my life choices.
“What can I do to help?” I ask, brushing my fingers down her warm skin.
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “I feel awful, like I’m about to climb out of my skin. The cramps come and go. I don’t think my body even knows what it needs.”
“I agree.” Pat strides back into the room with a bottle tucked under his arm.
“But that’s okay. We’re going to help you relax.
I’m sure the panic is intensifying the pain.
” He climbs onto the bed on the other side of Charlotte, dropping the bottle, which I can now tell is lotion.
He works his hand between her side and the bed, lifting her and shoving her fully onto my chest.
God.
He is such a pushy fucker.
Although, that might be what we need right now. I don’t have the first clue what I’m supposed to do. She seems a lot more coherent than they told us omegas would act when they’re going into heat.
He knocks my hand out of the way and pops the hooks on her bra.
I squint.
How the hell did he manage that one-handed? Isn’t it also customary to ask before doing something so presumptuous?
“I told you I was going to take care of you, and I think the best thing you can do is to shut your brain off.” Patrick smirks at me as he tosses the sides of her bra open and guides her straps partially down her arms. Once the material is as out of the way as it’s going to get, he grabs the lotion and squirts some onto his hand.
“Maybe try purring, she liked that earlier.”
“It’s almost like they should give those classes to alphas when we’re adults rather than teenagers,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.
No one ever taught me how to do that, meaning I don’t have the first clue how to force my system to comply.
Do all alphas even have that particular skill?
We’re supposed to, I believe, but maybe my purring device is broken.
Device?
Organ?
Whatever.
Patrick rubs his hands together, leaning over Charlotte as he smooths the lotion onto her skin. “It might have felt better if I left it cool rather than warming it.” His eyes meet mine, and he nods at the omega.
Right.
He wants me to help distract her.
Her face rests against my chest, and I brush my thumb over her pink cheek.
Her eyes flutter behind her closed lashes, making my heart race.
She really is beautiful, and I’ve barely had the chance to focus on how monumental this moment feels.
It’s too bad that I don’t have more confidence in how to take care of her.
Maybe having pushy-ass Patrick around isn’t a bad thing.