CHAPTER TWENTY - BIRDIE #2
“You've been on suppressants a long time.” I nod, even though she’s just stating a fact. “Did anyone explain that prolonged usage has side effects? Your hormones have to readjust, and that can result in a longer, more intense heat?”
She clearly doesn’t know the kind of doctors I’ve had to deal with before. “Can’t I just have more suppressants?”
Her mouth forms a hard, unhappy line. “It would be medically irresponsible of me, Birdie. You need to let your body settle into its natural rhythms.”
My stomach tightens. Without suppressants, I’m at the mercy of my instincts; and when my heat hits, I’ll be no better than a feral omega. “But I need them. I’m not well enough to have a real heat.”
She sighs and pulls the stool over, perching on the edge.
“Let's focus on your general health, first of all.
Other than the frostnip on your fingers, the cut on your cheek, and the damage to your scent gland, you're suffering from both malnutrition and dehydration. We've started to fix that, but I’d recommend a week or two of additional recovery in an omega wellness center…”
“No.” The word shoots out of me so violently, she raises her brows. “I mean, I don’t have insurance. I can’t afford something like that.”
“Ive spoken to Captain Lawson and he’s already said his pack will pay.”
I stare at her in surprise. Why would he offer something like that?
Is it to keep tabs on me? Is it guilt money, because he feels bad about locking Charlie’s sister in his basement?
“I do better on my own,” I tell her, pushing back the blanket and swinging my feet to the floor. “If you need me out of here...”
She clucks her tongue and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m not throwing you out, Birdie. But this isn’t the best place for an omega in recovery. You need things we just can’t give you here.”
I drape the blanket back over my legs. “I don’t need a lot. The bed is comfortable. The room’s quiet. And it even has a view.”
She looks at the window as if she’s seeing it for the first time. “You deserve better than this, Birdie. Have you talked to Haven about the future?”
“Haven?”
“Hog,” she huffs. “I detest that name, by the way.”
I don’t, because labels are important. And Hog’s tells you exactly what he is – a hunter of gunmen. Although, I’m starting to wonder if I know who he is. At first, I thought he was the honest one, but all the scent match stuff has proven he can’t be trusted, either.
“I think the pair of you need to talk when you’re feeling better.”
There’s a note of sadness in Carla’s voice and I avoid her gaze, draining the glass of OJ instead. It doesn’t have any pulp in it, but it still tastes like I’m drinking liquid sunshine.
I’m just returning the empty glass to the tray when there’s a quick tap at the door and Colt pokes his head into the room.
Carla scowls at him, and I expect him to beat a fast retreat, but he gives her an innocent smile and says, “Mac Peterson is out here to see you, Doc. He said he’s having trouble with a nasty ingrown toenail. ”
“Alright.” Carla gets off the stool, pausing to give me a stern look. “Rest until I get back, Birdie, and then we can talk about your options.”
I give her a reluctant nod, but as soon as she’s out the door, I slide my feet to the floor.
My head spins, my knee joints loosening, and I am halfway to kissing the linoleum when Colt’s arms encircle me.
I wait for my instincts to kick in and jerk me away, but my weakened body doesn’t seem to care that he’s an alpha.
He’s strong, and warm, and he smells like chocolate sunshine…
“Whoa! You got some noodle legs to go with my noodle arms.”
I let myself lean against him a moment longer, then push away to perch on the bed. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, well you’ll be better when I get some real food into you.
” He makes a face at the tray of smooshed meatloaf beside me and pulls a brown paper bag from behind his back.
“In the meantime, I smuggled you a donut. Doctor Grumpus will probably kick my ass, but that meatloaf is a crime against humanity.”
I can’t quite control my smirk. “You talk a lot.”
“Yeah, about that…” He sighs and leans his weight against the counter opposite me.
“I guess Baggage was a shitty nickname, huh? Unless you want to unload on me, which would be totally cool. Or I could unpack you a little, if you like? Help smooth out your rough edges…” He smacks a hand over his mouth, his eyes scrunched in apology.
“Shit. Sorry, Birdie. You should know, I only flirt this bad when I’m nervous. ”
I peek at him, intrigued despite myself. “Why are you nervous?”
“Because I don’t want to fuck up again.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and I try not to notice the snug fit, but it’s a challenge.
His hair is tousled, his eyes are crystal blue, and he’s standing in a puddle of sunlight that’s turned his skin honey brown.
He’d be hard not to look at, even if he wasn’t staring at me like he wants to grab me up again and hug me hard.
“I want you to know, I didn’t mean to be such a dick.
Yes, I’ve got a big mouth, but most people don’t trigger it like you do. ”
I narrow my eyes at him. “It’s my fault you harassed me?”
“Oof.” He slaps a hand to his stomach, like he just took a punch. “Yeah, I deserve that. I mean, I could blame the booze, but that’s only part of it. The truth is, I liked the sparks you gave off. Without a word, you pushed back twice as hard when I needled you. It made me feel fucking alive.”
I nod, because I recognized his manic energy, and maybe it fed into a little of my own. “And now?”
He picks at the sore spot on his scalp. “I hate that I pushed. That I treated you like a game, instead of seeing you as a prize.” He pulls a face, his eyes downcast. “I was a fucking jerk. And I know you probably had other reasons for trekking down a snowy mountain in the middle of the night, but if it had anything to do with my actions in your bed…”
“Charlie’s bed,” I correct him. “And no. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He shifts on his feet, looking uncomfortable. “Okay, because I thought maybe I made things worse. You had that thing in your throat, and it was zapping you for just breathing…”
“It wasn’t like that. The sensor was programmed to…” Ugh. I really don’t want to put Reeves’ bullshit into words, but I try again. “It didn’t react to... alpha secretions.” His eyes widen and I turn my gaze to the window. “It was designed to keep omegas quiet… and cooperative.”
I hate using that word, but it’s a common theme in Reeves’ work. To make omegas both docile and willing, no matter the circumstances.
“Damn,” Colt breathes, his scent spiking with anger. “Those militia alphas were real sick pricks, weren’t they?” I don’t bother responding, because even though it was Reeves’ invention, my stepfather and his thugs were just as bad in their own way. “I’m glad you got away, Birdie.”
I nod, but when he holds the paper bag out, I wave it off. “Can you save it for later? I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”
He pulls a face, the sparkle in his eyes dimming. “Yeah, of course. You want me to get Hog?”
I stiffen. “Why would you say that?”
“Well, because of the way you reacted to him when you had a panic attack. Even Axel couldn’t get through to you, but the instant you smelled the sasquatch…”
“He was just there,” I protest, my heart thudding. “It didn’t mean a thing.”
“Yeah, but you calmed down because of his scent…”
I lean forward to push him before I can stop myself.
It’s kind of pointless, since he’s already leaning up against the counter, but my pulse is beating so loudly in my ears, I can’t think.
Plus, it feels good to hit something. I’ve been restrained for too long, always forced to lower my eyes and swallow my protests.
I give Colt another shove for good measure and hiss, “You don’t know what you’re talking about! ”
“Okay.” Somehow, his hand has caught mine and is pressing it to his chest, right over the bruise I just gave him. “I’m sorry, Birdie. I just wanted you to know that we’re all here for you.”
“No!” The word burns my tongue, but I spit it out anyway. “Get out, Colt! And take your damn donut with you!”