Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Now Playing: 10 staTues tHat CriEd bloOd- Bring Me The Horizon

Everything hurts. My head, my heart, my entire fucking body.

It’s almost like my body got a taste of contact with my mates and has overridden the medicine Doctor Russell gave me to combat the severest side effects of the chemical rejection. Even rolling over sends sharp pulses of pain through my limbs, but it’s too hot in here so I have to suffer long enough to kick the blankets off.

Chest heaving, I stare up at the ceiling and wonder if this is it. The rejection has finally taken its toll and the damage to my nervous system is too much.

No. No . I refuse to give in to the dark thoughts trying to claw their way into my mind. I have too much to live for to give in now. Pack Graves aren’t my end-all, be-all. There is more to life than Fated mates.

My eyelids slip shut again. I don’t fight to stay awake because I know my body needs rest, but it feels like seconds later I’m whimpering and trying to bury myself beneath the mass of blankets piled at the bottom of the bed. The room is too bright, too big. I need the peaceful darkness of a nest.

Except I don’t have that here. My nest is back in the city in my abandoned apartment where I can’t reach it.

Tears track down my cheeks as a sense of hopelessness starts to seep into my heart. Why does everything always have to go wrong? When will I catch a break? Maybe I wasn’t born to find my happily ever after. Maybe my future has always been drenched in blood and misery.

Hearing a knock at my door, I peek through a small gap in the material gathered around me, I wait for whoever is on the other side to leave. They always leave. I’m never good enough for them to stay. Taking care of me is too much work. No one wants an omega who can’t even pull herself out of bed for more than a few hours at a time.

Silence greets me after a few seconds, bringing new tears to my eyes. Why won’t they stay?

Another knock rings through the room seconds before the door opens. My heart races expecting one of my mates to walk in, but it is Doctor Russell instead. Her brown eyes widen when she takes in the messy bedroom and my tear-stained face. “I’m guessing the medicine stopped working?”

She carefully pulls the blankets away after setting her bag aside. Her gloved hand traces along the side of my face to my scent gland. Pain erupts through me with each touch, but it’s worse when she gently prods around the area where Doctor Harrison cut me.

“Hmmm,” she hums. A digital thermometer presses against my temple seconds later. The results make the furrow in her brows deepen.

“What is it?” I croak.

“I will have to do blood work to be certain, but I can theorize two things. One–the medicine isn’t working as effectively. Two–your body is trying to force a heat, even with a suppressant in your system to counter it.” She grabs a chair from the corner and pulls out a small notepad to write on.

Hearing I might go into heat has fear spiking violently in my heart. With my body so weak, that would be a death sentence. “Is it because I’m here with my Fate matched mates?”

Her head tilts as she considers my question, so I explain the mini-heats I was having when in close proximity to them during the tour. “Interesting. I haven’t read anything to support your theory, but medicine is an ever-evolving field so there is a possibility your close proximity may be affecting the chemical rejection. How have you been feeling prior to this morning?”

“Drained mostly. I sleep a lot and even a full night's rest doesn’t leave me energized.”

Doctor Russell’s head bobs as if she expected my answer. She makes some notes before turning to her bag and gathering what she needs for a blood draw. I watch silently as she takes what she needs. “I will rush this through the lab at my office and call you with the results this evening. Until then I suggest you at least get one of your mates in here to lay with you. Having their scents and touch may ease your body’s need to go into heat.”

“One last thing,” she comments as she grips my arms and pulls me to a standing position. “Let’s check your partial bond mark.”

I pull down one side of my sweatpants to expose the top of my thigh where Nexus’ half bite sits. My stomach sinks when she sucks in a sharp breath. I jump when her fingers skim the tender skin. Without speaking, I can already sense she doesn’t like what she is seeing.

“Okay.” She blows out a breath as she takes her gloves off and shoves them into the pocket of her bag. “I’m going to be real with you, and it isn’t going to be easy to hear.”

Slipping my pants back up, I turn and sink onto the edge of the mattress. “Just tell me.”

“At this point, I fully believe your only option moving forward is a bond to stabilize the effects of the chemical rejection. While I would love to tell you any bond would work, it is highly likely a bond from someone outside of the alpha who gave you the partial bond won’t be effective.”

Panic seizes my lungs, the pressure of bonding with the men who hurt me settling on my chest like the weight of a baby elephant. There was a time when the thought of belonging to Pack Graves would have filled me with joy, but now all I can feel is terror. What happens if I let them bond me and they change their minds? If they leave again?

The chemical rejection is difficult enough to overcome, I won’t survive feeling a full bond between us break.

“Hey,” Doctor Russell shakes my shoulder gently, shocking me into inhaling to ease the ache in my burning lungs. “There you go, deep breaths.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“No apologies. You’ve suffered more than anyone should. It is natural to be afraid of the past repeating itself.” She studies me with a clinical eye for several seconds before continuing. “Have you considered seeing a therapist to help you navigate the emotional and mental strain the chemical rejection is causing?” When I shake my head, she tells me she will refer me to someone who can do telehealth calls after the first visit.

My head feels like it is splitting apart as she leaves. This is all too much. I don’t have the capacity to deal with anything she told me right now. As much as I would like to avoid it, her suggestion to stick close to the guys to ease the impending heat is helpful.

The house is quiet as I make my way out of the guest room. There isn’t the usual clatter from the kitchen or the running of water from upstairs. It takes me several minutes to find anyone.

Callisto sits on the enclosed patio outside of their little library. The table beside him is covered in papers that are weighed down by a tablet with the screen turned toward where the beta sits. In his hands is the same acoustic guitar he had the night I found him playing by the bonfire during their tour.

I linger at the door, listening as he plays several chords before writing something down and restarting. I used to love moments like this where I could just watch the guys. Callisto especially. The way he gets lost in writing lyrics or music reminds me of how I feel when I get behind the lens of my camera.

After experiencing their rejection, watching them makes me feel like an outsider. Reminding me that they don’t really want me here. The only reason they let me stay is because of the guilt eating at their consciences.

“Starlight, do you want to come sit?” My eyes fly open, colliding with his dual tones. The softest smile plays across his lips as he watches me. I take a tentative step outside, letting the sun shine down on me. It feels nice despite my heated skin.

Callisto uses his foot to slide out the chair across from him for me to sit down. I give him a tight smile as I slide into it. He grins back but doesn’t speak. No, my sweet beta just goes back to what he was doing, allowing me to enjoy his presence while he works.

I’m not sure how long we sit there, enjoying the sunlight bouncing off of the windows. “Are you feeling up for a shower, or maybe another soak in the tub?” He asks suddenly.

My eyes blink open and I’m shocked to find all of his papers are already put away. I must have dozed off a little while I listened to him play. “A bath sounds nice.”

The quiet whir of the tub's jets fills the bathroom as I slip out of my clothes. Callisto has his back turned again, giving me a moment of privacy. A groan rattles up my chest as I sink into the hot water. It feels wonderful on my sore body.

Hearing the lap of the water, Cal turns to face me. Heat fills his dual-toned eyes, but he keeps them on my face. My breath catches with each step he takes, closing the distance between us until he sinks to his knees beside the tub.

“Would you like me to wash your hair again?”

My teeth sink into my lip, and I shake my head. He helped me with my hair two days ago, so it doesn’t need to be washed again so soon. Skin-to-skin contact would be more helpful, but I’m afraid to ask. I don’t think I could handle him denying my request.

The warmth of the water has my muscles relaxing and my eyes slipping closed. Sleep hasn’t come easily, not with pain constantly radiating through my body.

I startle when Callisto’s hands grip my shoulders, urging me to sit up. My eyes go wide as he slips behind me, the feel of his bare chest against my back nearly pulling a moan from my lips. Being so close makes the physical pain ebb, but the emotional pain pulses even harder.

We float in the water for a while, his arms loosely framing my waist to maximize the contact between our bodies. The feel of his sweatpants beneath me startled me the first time they brushed my skin, but I’m grateful he chose to keep them on. With the fluctuating hormones from my body trying to kick start a heat, I don’t know if I would be able to remain clear-headed enough to say no if things escalated between us.

“I’ve been working on a new song, would you like to hear it?”

Letting my head rest against his shoulder, I listen as he sings. Letting the heartbreaking lyrics lull me back to the edge of sleep. His voice seems softer than Nexus’, though his range is the same, it just isn’t as refined.

My phone rings from the floor beside the tub, interrupting our relaxation. Leaning over the edge, Callisto grabs it and shows me the screen. Doctor Russell’s office is calling. We let it ring through while he helps me get dried and dressed in their clothes.

When he slips into the closet to grab clothes for himself, I dial the doctor’s office. “Good evening, Omen. I was calling with the results of the blood draw I performed this morning. Unfortunately, it looks as if my earlier theory was indeed correct. Your heat hormone levels are rising. There still appears to be some fluctuation, but the heat suppressor we gave you at the hospital is no longer working.”

“And the drugs to counter the side effects of the chemical rejection?”

I already know the answer before she confirms it, I just haven’t wanted to admit it to myself. That medicine is the only relief I’ve been able to find since waking from my heat in Boston six weeks ago, and now it isn’t working. My body is going to start rapidly declining, falling apart at the seams, and the only option I have to stop it is to bond with Pack Graves.

Why are my only choices death or a life tied to men who couldn’t choose me?

Ending the call, I slip into their pack bedroom and sink into one of the armchairs in the corner. My knees are too weak to keep me upright as I try to process my bleak future.

Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for what I need to do. Step one is admitting the full truth to Pack Graves, then I can take the time to decide what I want to happen next.

Slumping down in the seat, my head thumps against the back. Defeated, that is the only word I can conjure to describe how I feel in this moment. And feeling so hopeless is a dangerous slope when you are battling a chemical rejection.