Chapter 10
ten
From a medical perspective, pain is useful.
It tells us what’s wrong. Gives us somewhere to start. And assures us, for better or worse, that our body is still on our side, fighting to right whatever is amiss.
As much as we might hate it, we need pain.
I’ve always been okay with that.
Until now.
The visceral pull sewn into the very bottom of my soul is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It burns, stings, and screams all at once. Trying to forcibly yank me toward the woman lying on my lap.
Because I cannot put her down.
Believe me, I’ve tried.
Each time I even begin to settle the strange omega who bit me on the hospital cot beneath us, she whines loud enough to shatter glass. And my Alpha rages.
Not to mention, the world-ending, gut-clenching pain that pulls at the deepest parts of me. A physical ache to match the emotions slowly smothering me.
Gideon.
He’s all I can think about. Specifically, the look on his face when we parted ways this morning. So trusting. Full of gratitude and respect and the kind of love no man could ever deserve.
I attempted to, anyway.
And here I am. Bonded to someone else.
“Half-bonded,” the alpha doctor in front of me corrects.
She’s young, but possesses the breezy, no-nonsense air of a typical ER physician. Someone a bit jaded, because she’s likely seen way too much. Apparently, our battered trio doesn’t rank high on her list. Finn groans in pain on the next bed, and she shoots him an unimpressed look.
“Not you,” she clips. “You have a mild concussion. We’ve given you fluids and a non-narcotic pain med. You’ll be fine in a few hours.”
My packmate still clutches the side of his head like it might fall off. Under ordinary circumstances, I’d be rolling my eyes at him, too. At the moment, though…
My voice rasps as much from the idea of causing others pain as from my own. “It won’t affect my packmates? This—”
Agony.
I swallow the word, and our doctor manages to look mildly sympathetic as she shakes her head. “No. It will only physically affect you and the omega—”
A bubbly beta nurse bops between our two beds, loading more nutrient boosters into Violet’s IV and adjusting the flow of Finn’s banana bag. She interrupts, blurting happily, “—but only until she wakes up and you can seal the bond with your bite! Then, any discomfort should fade instantly!”
Right. Because, of course, anyone who hears our story—how we found an abandoned, neglected omega on the brink of death and realized she was our mate—would assume we want to do everything in our power to make her as comfortable as possible, forever.
They would have no way of knowing I can never complete this bond.
I don’t want to.
I just want Gideon.
Which won’t be possible, now.
I don’t remember every single detail on half-bonds from medical school, but I recall their permanence.
The second this omega broke my skin, she ensured Gideon and I will never have our own connection.
Pack bonds can only run through one omega.
Now, even if he doesn’t leave me for having another person’s claim on my wrist, he can never be in mine. It will only ever go through her.
Violet Brynn.
Despite their physical differences, I’m all but certain this is Briar’s sister. For one, I know Briar was “adopted,” so she and Violet don’t share blood. And, secondly, who else would that bastard Brynn have locked away?
She was supposed to be a beta.
But, today? Her Omega awakened with a vengeance.
And ruined everything.
The thought puts a squirm in my abdomen, my shame doubling. Because I don’t want to blame her. She didn’t ask for any of it—and, if I’m correct, I haven’t really met the woman who bit me yet. Just her Omega.
This isn’t Violet’s fault.
None of it ever was.
Her addled Omega was simply reacting to the situation—Violet’s frailty, my scent. The fact that we’re…
Mates.
Fucking hell. This is Gideon’s worst nightmare. His greatest fear, realized.
The female alpha notices the shadows lurking in my eyes. She watches the oblivious nurse chirp about how lucky we are to have found our mate when we did—and what a compliment it is for an abused omega to feel safe enough to try to bond with me right out of the gate.
It’s true. And—goddamn it—I hate how much that one simple fact means to me.
She was barely alive. Yet she knew she could trust me.
How am I supposed to be unaffected by that?
How will I ever live with myself for letting anything she does affect me?
Every single breath of her honeysuckle sweetness already feels like its own separate betrayal. Honestly? I haven’t even allowed myself to process how much I like it.
Violet stirs, likely responding to the deep thwack of guilt that strikes my center. Until I figure out how to put a makeshift door over my half of our tether, she’ll feel all my shame and regret, loud and clear.
I stare at her anxiously, hoping she might wake up as herself this time. When Violet’s eyes flutter open and she isn’t in them, I try not to let my disappointment sting her. Glossy, blown-out pupils have edged out her green irises entirely, though—a sure sign she isn’t even hearing me right now.
Just her Omega, feeling my emotions.
She instantly flinches, curling in on herself and whimpering.
Hell and damnation. She senses my pain, no matter how still I try to keep it. And she can feel me rejecting her from the inside.
The thought is so horrifying, I hitch a broken gasp that sounds more like a sob. Our doctor abruptly dismisses her beta colleague, turning to yank a privacy curtain into place. Her grim expression tells me she finally understands the situation.
The woman nods at Violet’s tense face, muttering, “Give her your wrist.”
Oh. Of course.
It didn’t even occur to me that she wouldn’t fully settle until she tended her bite. Perhaps she’s been thinking about this the whole time, begging me over our frayed connection. I can’t hear her, though—without a full bond, I only get echoes.
I raise my wrist and stare at the angry half-moons branded there. Allowing myself to focus on the burn radiating into my fingers and up to my elbow.
More pain. My body, trying to alert me to this lack. The wrongness of it.
My stomach flips, fresh dread ballooning as I consider my options. God, this would kill Gideon. But won’t it be worse if I show up bearing another omega’s mark and I can’t even set her down? There’s a chance this will help my Alpha let go a tiny bit, too.
Insides seething, I raise my right arm to Violet’s face. She darts a nervous black-eyed glance at my expression, earnest longing and hurt written across every dainty feature.
Fuck, baby girl. I’m so sorry.
Her heart shrinks in her chest, reacting to the energy rolling off of me. Anguish roils on both sides of our half-bond, but hers is tipped with fear. The sensation scrapes through my middle, slicing. Leaving agony so raw, my eyes prick.
I try to swallow around the wad of sorrow expanding in my throat and slowly lift my other hand to the top of her head. Encouraging her. Offering what little comfort I can allow myself to give.
Gideon always hates it when I pet his head. He says it makes him feel like a dog. But Violet nuzzles her crown into my touch and gives another quiet whine.
She slants a bleary, searching look up my torso. Waiting for verbal permission, I realize. Like a good, sweet girl.
Fucking hell.
I hate how my Alpha soars with satisfaction over our mate, looking to us for guidance. I hate the way my knot ticks fuller, rubbing the pulsing erection I can’t shake. I hate the purr that automatically kicks to life behind my sternum.
Before I can strangle it, she feels my uncontrollable arousal and perfumes. Bright, dizzying honeysuckle swirls over us. Finn moans, despite his medically induced stupor. I blink, trying to parse how my body, mind, heart, and soul rage. Ruthlessly fighting one another with stabs and slashes.
Violet is still waiting for my approval. Spots fill my vision, but I manage a dazed nod.
Her small whimper of relief nearly breaks me. In another world, that sound would be all an alpha could ever dream of. Especially when it’s accompanied by the gentle brush of her lips along the thin skin of my wrist.
My entire body hums, every other sense and emotion evaporating. My whole being tunes into the careful way she kisses the claim mark.
I feel her apology in that one touch—and her gratitude. Forgive me, she seems to beg one second. And the next, as her tongue slowly glides over the torn skin, Thank you, Alpha.
My chest heaves while I fight to quash my body’s innate reaction. When the doctor sees the way I grimace, gritting my teeth and squeezing my eyes closed to stave off an instantaneous climax, she hums flatly.
I barely tear my focus from Violet long enough to send her a demanding glance. She sighs, her expression pitying.
“If you choose not to complete this bond, it will be extremely painful for you. Half-bonds affect alphas and omegas differently. Without you, she’ll be inconsolable during her next heat—but, afterward, she will have a chance to return to some semblance of normalcy, assuming you’re able to figure out how to shut down your side of the bond and stop pushing your feelings into her.
Especially if she has other alphas around to bond with, eventually. You, however…”
She trails off ominously, shaking her head. Her voice drops into a murmur. “I’ve heard it’s torture. If you aren’t fully bonded by the end of her heat, and she leaves… you’ll be in a living hell. Whoever is holding you back, I’m sure they wouldn’t want that for you.”
Christ, but she’s right. Gideon would panic at the thought of me being in excruciating pain for one moment, let alone the rest of my life. Not to mention the other ailments that can plague half-bonded alphas when their omegas move on.
I’ve never treated one, personally, but therapy for half-bonded alphas is generally like palliative care for terminal patients. We can’t truly help them because the root of their pain is incurable. Eventually, it drives most of them mad.