~Chapter 2~
T he bathroom door slammed shut only moments ago. Stu ran out of here like his ass had caught on fire. I’m torn between going after him and standing watch over Bea.
It takes me a few seconds before I realize that I’m holding the piece of paper Stu slammed into my chest before he left. It’s none of my business, but I also need to know how to hel-
“Noooooo!!!! Aaaahhhhh!” Beatrice wails, her back nearly bowing off the bed.
I rush to her side, tossing the paper on the nightstand before sliding in beside her. Tears and sweat run down her face, soaking her nightdress.
Unfortunately, she’s had quite a few of these night terrors. Doc says not to wake her, but we have to try to subdue her as quickly as possible to prevent her from hurting herself any further.
Scooting in the bed beside her, I try to remember what Stu did the last time, while also ensuring that I don't crush her casted leg.
Her breaths stutter repeatedly before a sob rips through the air; and my heart fucking shatters.
Reaching across her chest, including the tops of both arms, I curl my hand around her furthest bicep and pull her into me. Squeezing my eyes shut, matching the pain in my heart, I begin humming a tune under my breath. I press her against me while she thrashes wildly; crying, sniffling, whimpering.
After another moment of fighting to calm her, the lyrics to the tune I’m humming come to me. Not knowing what else to do, I start singing to her. I quickly realize that it was the first song I learned to play on the guitar. However, the understanding that I’m basically ripping my heart straight from my chest and offering it to her while she faces demons in her sleep has me stumbling over the lyrics.
Under the Bridge by the Red Hot Chili Peppers soothed my annihilated soul all those years ago; so it’s fitting that it’s returned to me once more.
Although my voice comes out raspy and broken, it appears to slowly penetrate through her night terror. Her sobs are turning into hiccups, and her body is beginning to settle.
Closing my eyes, I lift my hand away from her arm and slowly run my fingers through her sweaty hair, occasionally twirling a section for a moment before repeating the movement. Another whimper leaves her sweet lips, so I continue singing.
I break off as the air backs up in my lungs, the pain so close to the surface for me… and for Beatrice. My little Omega.
A soft, sweet snore pulls me out of my head long enough for me to realize that she’s finally calm; finally resting. I slowly extract myself from Bea, leaning over to give her a brief peck against her temple before sliding off the bed.
For longer than necessary, I stare down at her, taking in every bruise, every scrape, every nose twitch… everything.
I did absolutely everything I could think of to prevent myself from falling for anyone again. Yet, here I am, desperately hoping Beatrice can forgive us, forgive me, and give us the chance to give her everything she deserves; to worship her the way she deserves.
With a frustrated growl under my breath, I roughly run my hand through my hair. The flickering of the letter Stu left behind catches my attention. Snapping it up, I lower my eyes long enough to see her name at the bottom. What the fuck? She wrote him a letter? Why?
A small voice in the back of my mind tells me it’s none of my business. But a louder voice tells me I need to know so I can help him; help her.
As my eyes scan the written words, her words, I feel all of the air whoosh out of me. The rhythmic beating of the heart rate monitor is the only sound penetrating through the ringing of my ears.
My chest feels tight…far too tight. My heart crashes wildly against my ribcage, and I’m struggling to breathe. Is this what a heart attack feels like?
I briefly register the letter falling from my shaking hands. Hastily, I flee the room, rushing down the hallway. My world is hazy and unfocused, but I keep pushing. Those words- her words- how could she? Why?
Anger and fear rage in my heart as I break into a jog. My footsteps pounding against the floor seem to rattle the broken pieces of my heart.
Bursting through the back door, I fumble to take off my boots, then shuck off my clothes; stripping down to my boxers. I don’t bother to check the temperature or check to see if there are clean towels in the storage cubby. I just dive right into our pool and begin kicking with all my might.
Three years … It’s been three years since Cammy took her life. She was mine . Mine, dammit, and she ended her life like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. I knew she was struggling with things; things she would never talk to me, or anyone else, about.
She loved the scenes when we played together and was absolutely perfect as a sub. But her demons were too big. She wouldn’t let me in. And six months after we met, she killed herself; in my bathroom while I was away on assignment. I couldn’t take the grief, the disappointment, the knowledge that I wasn’t good enough to help her. So, I sold the house a month later and moved in with the guys.
I breach the water’s surface and inhale deeply before slicing through it in a freestyle stroke. The water sluices under my arms and whips past my body as I push myself to swim faster.
A year after Cammy died, Danny and Even started a relationship with another woman. I wanted nothing to do with her. Even thought I was being a prickly dick who needed a psychiatrist. But, deep down, I could sense that she was all wrong.
Unfortunately, three months after they made the relationship official, it all went to shit. Stu was in the middle of our annual finance audit and noticed some strange transactions. As it turns out, Dana was a little, thieving con artist.
And if that wasn’t enough, her real name was Tanya, and she was on about a dozen different wanted lists worldwide. Thankfully, she never had access to our actual work files, so the only things that were compromised were Even and Danny’s accounts. Idiots.
Last I heard, she had been extradited to somewhere overseas, where her punishment would be much more satisfying than she would have received here.
Hitting the far wall, I dip under the surface, flip, and turn before launching myself off the wall. My lungs begin to burn; frying off some of the emotions boiling inside of me.
Since Dana, none of us have dated. When we need to let off steam, we head to The Raven Room. Sometimes we play together, sometimes separately, and sometimes we just watch. But we don’t play for keeps.
When I met Omega through a popular streaming app, I allowed myself to play into the fantasy with her; of her. She was perfect. So sweet, so gentle, yet so willing to be a good little submissive. Her responses rocked me harder than anyone else had in my life. And, dammit, that’s fucking scary.
After her initial rejection, I gave up trying to hang out with her. I’m not too proud to back away and leave well enough alone. She didn’t want anything more than what we had, and I respected that. But when I saw her in person and felt how deeply entwined she already was in my life, in their lives, I dared to dream.
Breaching the surface, I gasp for breath before damn near running into the wall; barely getting my arms up in time to slam them on top of the slate siding. My muscles ache and my lungs burn. But at least my emotions feel like they’ve been pushed into a corner far, far away.
I work on breathing, heaving, and panting as water drips from my hair to the ground. Closing my eyes, I see Bea’s handwriting. She would have destroyed Stu. Sure, the rest of us would have been hurt, but none of us love her like he does. Not yet.
I push that thought away and focus on the issue: She was selfish and never stopped long enough to consider who she was leaving behind.
White hot rage courses through my body, and my jaw tenses to the point of pain. Never again. I will never let another person hurt me or my family again. As far as I’m concerned, it would be best if she were to heal and then disappear altogether. She’s not a good fit for any of the guys. And the sooner they figure it out, the better. I don’t care how hurt she is; once she’s well enough to care for herself, she’s out for good.
Liar .