Chapter 31 Maeve #2
Lucifer cackles. “Oh, princess, I’m so glad you’re awake.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, but there’s no bite in it.
“If you’re not going, I will,” Julian says, half rising from his chair. Torin sneers but strides from the room.
If only he took some of the tension with him. Selfish prick.
I watch him go and fight the urge to throw something at his retreating back. If I wasn’t attached to these machines, I’d probably try.
“Let’s get some things straight before he gets here, then,” I say once the door clicks shut behind Torin. My voice is steadier now, finding its strength. “What exactly did Dr Rush say about the reaction? And don’t sugarcoat it.”
Hadrian and Julian exchange a look that makes my heart stutter. I clench my hands into the itchy blankets and try to keep my mask composed.
Hadrian inhales slowly before answering.
“Dr Rush confirmed the reaction was hormonally based. Something about your chromius having an allergy to it.”
“He’ll explain it better, but basically, your body treats the hormones as a threat,” Julian continues for his twin, sounding just as morose.
Lucifer’s jaw tightens. Draven doesn’t move at all.
“And?” I press, sensing there’s more that they’re not telling me.
Hadrian hesitates, his face draining of colour so quickly I can almost hear the blood rushing from it. His eyes dart away from mine, unable to hold contact.
Fucking hell.
He’s more transparent than a fucking pane of glass.
“What is it?” I plead, not looking away from the clear weak link of the group.
“Dr Rush has been analysing your blood panels, and he thinks… they think that the reason Dr Jones was so willing to try this experiment is because she wanted to analyse the results.”
I blink at him dumbly. Analyse the results of what? She already knew I was allergic to them. She was the one who discovered it.
It makes no—oh, fuck.
If Dr Jones actually gave me birth control knowing full well what it would do to me, then this wasn’t negligence—it was deliberate. The result she wanted was the data from what would happen when my body rejected the hormones.
“Exactly,” Hadrian says quietly.
Draven growls low in the corner, but I don’t look his way. I can’t face it, not right now. He’s angry, but honestly, so am I.
If Torin’s right… not now Maeve.
One concern at a time.
As if summoned by my irritation, there’s a soft knock at the door.
Polite. Controlled.
Not Torin, then.
Every man in the room stiffens in apprehension.
Draven straightens first, stepping back just enough to give the impression of civility rather than restraint. Lucifer’s posture shifts, too—not aggressive, but alert. Predatory in that lazy, coiled way that means someone’s about to have a very bad day if they say the wrong thing.
“Come in,” Hadrian says, voice clipped.
The door opens to reveal Dr Rush.
Exhaustion hangs on him like an ill-fitted suit. No white coat today—just a rumpled blue shirt that brings out the colour of his eyes.
“Hello, Maeve, I am so glad you’re finally awake,” he says with genuine concern. “I’m sorry to have you back here so soon.”
He steps into the room with Torin trailing behind like a shadow. The door clicks shut—I don’t catch who closes it—and suddenly, the walls seem to inch closer, the ceiling lower. Each breath becomes a conscious effort, as if the air itself has thickened around me.
My chromius goes very still, and a cold understanding spreads through my veins, slower than fear, but just as intense.
“Well,” I mutter. “Speak of the devil.”
Dr Rush gives me a small, wry smile. “How are you feeling, Maeve?”
“Like my body tried to kill me and failed,” I reply. “Which, frankly, feels on brand at this point.”
Lucifer snorts but is immediately shushed by one of the others.
“I won’t sugarcoat this, then,” he says. “You’ve had a severe anaphylactic reaction. One that would’ve been fatal if treatment had been delayed.”
Julian’s fingers curl into fists. “We’ve covered this already.”
Draven lunges forward, teeth bared, his voice dropping to a guttural growl that makes the machines stutter. “If you remind us one more time that she nearly died in our arms, I will tear your fucking throat out.”
“Well, that’s my cue to mind my words,” Dr Rush says without flinching.
I find myself caught between a smile and a wince. At least someone in this room is being sensible about the situation.
I eye the ursarix warily, but he’s no longer looking my way.
“So,” I say carefully, watching Draven for a reaction, “no more birth control.”
“No,” Dr Rush agrees. “Absolutely not. Ever.”
The relief that flickers through me is immediate—and short-lived.
Because his expression doesn’t soften.
“And before you ask,” he continues, “there isn’t an alternative. I’m sorry, Maeve, I really am.”
The room goes very still.
“What do you mean there isn’t an alternative?” Hadrian asks.
“I mean,” Dr Rush says evenly, “that given the state of Maeve’s hormonal system, there’s nothing that we can do to alter her hormones. Not medically. Not safely.”
“That’s bullshit,” Hades hisses. “You’re telling me that you’re all fucking useless? That not a single medical professional in this place knows anything to help her?”
“Anything we attempt now would risk organ failure. Her body—your body, Maeve—has been fighting artificial regulation for too long. It also goes against your very nature.”
I swallow. “My nature.”
Dr Rush hesitates. His pupils dilate slightly, voice dropping to a raw whisper.
“A chromius shifter doesn’t just want their true form—they’re consumed by it.
All shifters hunger for their mates, but for a chromius?
” He swallows hard, knuckles whitening around his clipboard.
“It’s not desire. It’s desperation. Starvation.
It’s the difference between existing and truly living. Without it, you’re just… hollow.”
My chromius cries out within me, a long, pained sound that no one else can hear. She’s being validated. Understood.
I blink back tears, refusing to let anyone see me break.
He rubs the back of his neck, his skin flushing crimson as sweat beads along his hairline.
His voice drops to a rasp that scrapes against the air between us.
“And once mated? They’re consumed with breeding.
It’s primal.” His eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide.
“Especially now that you’re the last of your kind. ”
I stare at my hands, at the faint tremor running through my fingers. My chromius agrees with a purr that makes me want to vomit—and yet, some treacherous part of me feels relief. Like a prisoner finally told their sentence after years of uncertainty.
Of course.
Of course, this is how it ends.
Not with help. Not with choice.
Just the slow, inexorable pull of what I am versus who I wanted to be.
“That’s disgusting,” Julian snarls. He steps closer to the bed like he’s physically blocking the implication from reaching me. “She’s more than a fucking breeder.”
I lie back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling again.
Same white. Same sterile smell.
But this time?
I’m going to be in control.
“How bad will it be?” I ask before Dr Rush can answer Julian.
Julian’s face hardens like concrete setting. His eyes, normally a baby blue, turn to cold stone.
“We don’t know,” Dr Rush replies. “Your blood work shows they’ve been poisoning you systematically.
Not just after a heat but regularly in the months between.
Your hormonal markers are…” He swallows hard.
“I can’t say how that’s affected your previous heats, so we have no idea how this one will compare. ”
“Well, what fucking good are—” Torin starts.
“Enough,” I interject, cutting him off. “I understand. It’s okay. No matter what, I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Draven’s voice scrapes out like gravel being crushed under a boot. “How can you promise that, Maeve?” His massive hands clench into white-knuckled fists, veins standing out like rivers on a map.
“You don’t know—” His words choke off as something wild and primal flashes behind his eyes. “None of us…”
Lucifer lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but there’s nothing amused in the sound.
I force a hollow laugh that scrapes against my throat like sandpaper.
“It’s just a heat, guys,” I say, my voice cracking despite my attempt at nonchalance. “They’ve never killed me before.”
The look on their faces says that’s not a statistic they’re willing to test. The words hang in the air like a death sentence.
It feels like no one even breathes.
“I’ve survived worse,” I say eventually.
Lucifer’s head snaps towards me. “Maeve—”
“I have,” I snap. “I’ve suffered plenty. I’ll survive this, too.”
The men around me don’t look convinced.
My chromius yowls underneath my skin, clawing at me from within like she’s trying to break free. Like the doctor’s words have given her permission to finally speak her truth. She doesn’t want to be caged anymore. She doesn’t want to be denied what she craves.
She thinks it’s a done fucking deal. That the men here are hers. That our next heat will be the one I finally give in and let her claim them.
Fool.
That’s. Not. Happening. I’ll survive it alone like I always have, curled in my own sweat and agony.
I know exactly what’s coming. The fever that makes my skin feel like it’s being peeled off. The hunger that claws through my insides like broken glass. The desperate, animal need that makes me want to tear my own throat out. I’ve endured it plenty.
But if it’s worse than it usually is… then I’ll handle that, too.
My chromius doesn’t just laugh—she squeals with savage delight. Bitch.
Draven steps closer without thinking. Lucifer’s fingers curl against his thigh. Julian’s jaw sets. Hadrian goes unnaturally still.
Torin doesn’t move at all.
He watches me like he’s finally understood something.
If I’m lucky this time, my heat might actually kill me. But I know that I won’t be.
Yay for biology.
Yay for being the last of your kind.
Yay for having a creature inside you that depends on a fucking man to be whole.
And four of the men in this room would burn the world before letting me be anything less than whole.
Fate’s a bitch—lucky for me, I’m a bigger one.