Chapter 31 Maeve
MAEVE
The first thing I notice is the smell.
Sharp. Sterile. Familiar.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
My chromius stirs uneasily, lifting her head like she’s checking for traps. The air hums with disinfectant and quiet machinery, the low beep of monitors ticking time forward whether I want them to or not.
We’re in the damn hospital—again.
I listen to the heart monitor that must be attached to me and do my best to calm down so that my heart rate doesn’t give the nurses a reason to come rushing in.
Or for the interlopers I can smell to get a hint of my anxiety.
The last thing I need is an audience whilst I try to work through whatever happened to dump us here again.
My memory is as empty as my stomach, though, and I know I’m not going to figure it out without someone’s help.
My eyes open slowly because I refuse to give this place the satisfaction of watching me panic. The raw ache in my throat suggests they had to help me breathe, which isn’t exactly comforting. I shift slightly, testing for other injuries, and nothing screams in protest.
That’s something, at least.
White ceiling. Too white. The kind that reflects light back into your eyes until you can’t see where the edges are. I breathe in through my nose.
Out through my mouth.
Once. Twice.
I’ve got a cannula in my elbow, and the wires draping over my bare skin are uncomfortable. It’s a good thing I have rational anxiety rather than Ari’s OCD because, otherwise, I’d convince myself they were injecting me with toxins or some shit.
Instead, I can just understand that the wires draped all over me are worms, wriggling around and causing genuine discomfort.
Assholes.
“Hey, starlet,” Hadrian whispers, and my eyes dart over to him. He’s on my left, close enough that I can feel his presence without him touching me.
It’s deliberate. It always is with him. And even when I don’t want to need that… I’m grateful for it.
“Hey.” My voice is croaky, but not as painful as I’d have expected.
“How long have I been out?” I ask, trying to keep my voice low. The less attention from staff, the better.
Lucifer is on my right, slouched in a chair that looks far too flimsy to hold his restless energy. Draven stands near the foot of the bed, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching the door like he’s daring someone to walk through it uninvited. Julian is on Hadrian’s right, close to the foot of my bed.
All of them here. Watching me with unblinking eyes like I’m something fragile and irreplaceable.
Fucking hell. When did they decide I couldn’t even go to the fucking hospital without an army?
And why does some small, traitorous part of me feel safer because of it?
“A few hours,” a familiar, unwelcome voice says. I sneer, groaning as I close my eyes once more.
Why am I never lucky? I could be dead right now, but instead, I’m stuck here with the dickhead who probably caused all of this. I guarantee my heart caved in after being stuck in his presence for too long.
The snobby, pretentious, self-absorbed pantheral with an ego complex that even fucking Adrian could never match. Torin’s obnoxious visit absolutely has something to do with me being here.
I just know it.
Even in my hospital-addled state, I can feel the air crackle with tension between him and the other men. I wonder if he’s admitted to what he did or if he’s hiding it from them.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice rough but steady. It’s weird, knowing that I’m safe in this room, in this pride.
The hospital has always been such a state of anxiety for me. I’d be exhausted, terrified, and running on literal fumes because neither my chromius nor I could relax enough to heal properly.
And yet, with only my second admission, I already feel… comfortable here. Whether Dr Rush is the one in charge of my care or not.
Last time I was here, there was screaming, there were revelations, it was… unsettling. It’s weird how much life changes.
“You nearly fucking killed me, princess. We got the call that you had collapsed,” Lucifer says, sighing in relief. “I swear, that cunt”—he gestures over his shoulder towards Torin—“was going to end up with a snapped neck if he couldn’t prove he didn’t harm you.”
“Spare me the dramatics,” Torin mutters.
“And he didn’t?” I ask, trying to shift into a more comfortable position. “Who did, then?”
“Don’t sound so sad that I didn’t try to murder you,” Torin snaps. “I’ve already gone enough rounds with your bear, I don’t want you to incite another rage.”
I look towards Draven in confusion. He merely shrugs, but there’s a hint of something in his eyes that tells me he’d have no regrets about going another round with Torin.
“We had words.”
Strong words. Definitely words punctuated with fists.
I can picture it all too vividly, but I wish I saw it in person.
I look at Lucifer, grinning in my exhaustion. “Did you at least record it?”
“Not this time, pretty princess. I was too busy holding the bastard up so Draven could… talk to him.”
I giggle, and Torin explodes.
“What?” he growls, his eyes flashing. “I wasn’t the one who nearly killed her. I was trying to help!”
“Help?” Julian hisses. “You thought your presence was a help? You made everything worse. If you had just listened to me—”
“Don’t act like you’re some fucking messiah,” Hadrian snarls at his brother. “You don’t know everything, no matter how big your fucking head is.”
“Maeve,” Torin snaps, but there’s strain in it now. “Tell them the truth. Tell them I didn’t touch you. I didn’t do this.”
My lips curl up, my nose wrinkling. “Who says that’s the truth?”
I don’t actually believe Torin hurt me, only because he’s too scared of Adrian to follow through with his threats. But the gaping hole in my memory doesn’t paint him in a good light.
When he arrived at the flat, he was furious. Murderous, even.
And I’m now in a hospital bed. Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
“I didn’t do anything to you!” he shouts, his face flushing a very ugly shade of crimson. “And I wouldn’t! I’m trying to help, for fuck’s sake!”
“Helping, getting in the way, existing in a world nobody wants you in…” I trail off and shrug when they all turn to me once more. “I’m going to be honest, I have no idea what happened. I can’t really remember.”
“You fainted,” Lucifer says. “Well—passed out? Slipped into a coma? I don’t really know the right terminology.”
I blink at him. “You don’t just slip into a coma.”
“You do when someone poisons you,” he replies flatly.
The word lands wrong, and my stomach churns.
Poison.
My throat tightens, but it has nothing to do with whatever tube has been shoved down it this time.
“I don’t understand.”
“You’ve had an anaphylactic reaction,” Hadrian says, his voice purposefully calm. I can feel his rage, smell the anger, but he has the restraint to keep it contained. “Your birth control medication triggered an extremely severe response, according to Dr Rush.”
“If dickhead over there hadn’t arrived when he did—” Julian starts, but he’s cut off by an extremely vengeful growl from Draven.
Well—from the ursarix within, I’d wager.
I push myself up on my elbows, ignoring the IV tugging at my arm.
I remember the floor tilting.
Torin shouting.
My throat closing.
“She drugged me,” I say immediately. The certainty in my voice surprises even me. “Dr Jones. I must have… I took the wrong ones. They were in the bathroom. I didn’t… I’m so fucking stupid.”
Hadrian’s jaw clenches so hard a muscle jumps beneath his skin, teeth grinding audibly. Draven’s nostrils flare as he exhales, his massive shoulders rising and falling with deliberate control that seems seconds from shattering.
Lucifer lets out a short, humourless laugh. “That’s what we thought, too, princess.”
“But none from the pack that she gave you were missing, and when examined, Dr Rush confirmed they were what she claimed. I hate the bitch, too, but this time, it wasn’t her,” Hadrian continues. “You’re allergic—deathly allergic—to the meds.”
“Allergic?” I repeat, my mind spinning. “That’s—so they were telling the truth.”
My heart drops, my stomach lurches. A knot forms at the base of my throat. So, I’m really allergic to the medication that was supposed to help me. What a fucking joke.
I had hoped—that was the problem, Maeve.
I let myself have some hope. Some faith.
Foolishly allowed myself to believe that there was some good for me.
My hands are clammy, and my chromius stirs beneath my skin, agitated and restless. She can sense the betrayal and rage building inside me. Right now, in this situation, she doesn’t like being vulnerable any more than I do.
“So, I’m just… what? Naturally fucked?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level despite the panic clawing up my throat. “That’s some bullshit cosmic joke right there.”
“How are you feeling?” Julian asks gently. “They said you’d recover quickly, but…”
“It hasn’t been nice seeing you like this,” Lucifer adds softly, so unlike his usual snarky demeanour that I blink at him in surprise.
“I can imagine it wasn’t nice going through it either,” I mutter, pushing myself up into a sitting position. Lucifer moves forward to adjust my bed, and the creaking sound is unsettlingly loud.
The room spins slightly, but I fight through it.
“Where are the good doctors?” I ask, shivering against the cool hospital air. Now that I’m more alert, the quiet beeping of the monitors, the antiseptic smell, and the hollow fluorescent lighting are getting to me.
“Nobody has alerted them that you’re awake,” Torin says as if it should be obvious.
Ignorant fucker.
“Well, maybe you could make yourself useful, then,” I snap, dismissing him with a wave of my hand. “Go play messenger boy.”
It’s not like I want him watching over me with those judgemental eyes that have only ever seen me as a burden.
“Now,” I add, sounding as bitchy as possible.
He hesitates, looking between me and the men surrounding my bed. His jaw tightens, and I can practically see his ego battling with the command.