Two Years Later

Carys

I wonder if I will always think of him when I’m in agony. The two things do go hand in hand. Preston and pain, it’s like cheese and crackers. Bound together, forever in my mind.

“Good afternoon, Carys,” Dr. Ambrose’s cheery voice enters the room a second before he does. It carries over the beeping of the machines next to the bed.

I silently curse the sprightly doctor as I pry my eyes open. I don’t care for these post-treatment recovery rooms. They’re so white. Clinical. Sterile. I want to go back to my room, even if it means putting up with my grumpy roommate.

“I heard your treatment went well.” Dr. Ambrose practically skips to my bed.

Everything hurts. Even my eyelashes. “It was okay,” I mumble, my voice rough with exhaustion.

“How’s my favorite omega?” He smiles widely, giving me a toothy grin. My chart is tucked firmly under one arm and the lights bounce off his especially shiny bald head. “Any nausea?”

I open my mouth to answer but snap it shut as a dark-haired man enters the room. He’s young, maybe in his mid-twenties, and he’s wearing a white coat, just like Dr. Ambrose’s.

“Carys.” The new doctor gives me a quick nod as he greets me. His eyes move over the scar that runs down the side of my face, down to my old mating bite. I shift, pulling my hospital gown up and hiding my face behind my hair. The pads stuck to my chest suddenly feel very itchy.

I shift in my hospital bed, both hating and savoring the discomfort pulsing through my veins. It’s a slow simmering fire, burning away what’s left of mine and Preston’s bond. Can he feel it too? Does he know that I’m suffering? I hope it hurts him too.

“If it’s okay with you, I brought a colleague with me today.” Dr. Ambrose holds his hand out, introducing me to the young man. “This is Dr. Thain. He’s a new graduate, and thinking about specializing in de-matings. Is it okay if he sits in?”

I narrow my eyes at the young man. He gives me a friendly smile, rocking nervously from one foot to the other. His messy hair and round cheeks make him look very young. Maybe only a few years older than me, but overall, he looks nice.

“That’s okay,” I say, resting my head back on my pillow. It’s one of the things I’ve been working on—trusting unknown men. It’s bizarre, but my mistrust of others isn’t specific to alphas, but more focused on gender. Dr. Ambrose says that's fairly common for omegas like me.

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Ambrose asks.

“Really good.” I force a fleeting smile, hoping it looks genuine.

“That’s excellent news.” The good doctor looks down at me like a proud father. His gray suit and white lab coat are brightened by his vibrant red tie. He used to dress very muted, all beige and brown, but he’s been breaking that mold lately. I’m too tired to ask why.

“Carys came to us a little over two years ago.” Dr. Ambrose’s voice slips into a professional tone as he speaks to Dr. Thain. He hands my chart to the younger beta, going over my short history since I’ve been at Havenfield. I’ve heard him do this many times with new nurses and various staff. It’s not upsetting anymore. “The patient started undergoing de-mating procedures eleven months ago, and the results have been touch and go. She has experienced nausea, dizziness, fainting, and blackouts after her treatments, but seems to be growing stronger with each passing day.” He gives me an approving nod. “She’s progressed faster than any other rejected omega I’ve worked with.”

“That’s wonderful news!” Dr. Thain says with an exaggerated grin. It somehow makes him look even younger. Like a kid standing on the side of a playground, waiting his turn to play on the swings.

“Carys really has made drastic improvements since she came here,” Dr. Ambrose continues. “She has completed her occupational and scenting therapies. She still has talk-therapy with me, and then Dr. Carter from internal medicine has been monitoring Carys's internal injuries, making sure there are no long-lasting effects from the scar tissue.”

Dr. Thain’s brows pull together as he examines my chart. “This says Dr. Blackwell was her initial surgeon.” I perk at Dr. Blackwell’s name, my face warming at the thought of him visiting me today. He promised he would. “Blackwell’s an alpha, right? Was he reassigned because his scent might affect her?” Dr. Thain asks, making Ambrose laugh.

“No. Previously mated omegas aren’t affected the same way unmated ones are.” Ambrose pats the young beta’s shoulder. “They don’t fall into distress at the scent of an alpha or need heat-delays to interact with them. Their bodies are already committed to their previous mates.” He lowers his voice, leaning toward Dr. Thain. “In fact, sometimes rejected omegas tend to not have their heat for months or even years after being rejected. They often struggle to even create slick. Sometimes not even after they’re taken by a new mate.”

“Interesting,” Dr. Thain’s gaze drifts over my face, and I duck my head. I know from a medical perspective, abandoned omegas are fascinating to study. After all, we’re rare. But talking about my inability to create slick is humiliating.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to force my body to relax, but it’s useless. My stomach hurts so much. Even the dull ache in the base of my skull seems to be growing worse by the second, but I can’t let Dr. Ambrose know. If I want to be approved to take a new mate, I have to be “cured,” which means they can’t know about any of my symptoms.

“We are very confident Carys will find her pack.” Dr. Ambrose says with a firm nod. “The only reason Dr. Blackwell offloaded Carys as his patient is because he put in a potential claim on her.” The older beta gives me a wink, and my face warms once again.

Thoughts of Kofi Blackwell swirl in my mind—his short black hair, matching goatee, and soft brown eyes that sparkle when he looks at me. He has long, muscular legs that always look amazing in his tight black slacks, and his very firm pecs always bulge in his form-fitting dress shirts.

He’s the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome.

I wish Havenfield wasn’t so harsh about restricting our contact to only weekly phone calls. It’s almost as if they’re paranoid about the staff members pursuing the omegas here. But, thankfully, Kofi still finds ways to see me. It’s our favorite game—sneaking around to steal a few careful moments. Sometimes it's only a few words, other times we hold hands for a second or he’ll cup my cheek. One time, he even kissed me. It was devastatingly quick but still precious.

I hope he visits me today.

My life was so empty and gray, void of all color or purpose…until Kofi.

My strong, wonderful alpha.

“While Carys still has a few lapses in memory when it comes to the night of her injuries,” Dr. Ambrose says, “we’re very proud of the progress she’s made.” He puffs out his chest like a proud father.

“You know,” Dr. Thain leans in as if that was the most riveting thing he’s ever heard, “I’ve actually heard it’s very rare for rejected omegas to become well enough to find a new mate.” He steps a little closer to Dr. Ambrose. “What are the statistics on….” He looks down at my chart, and his mouth falls open. “Carys Day?” His dark eyes snap to me, going wide.

I get this reaction every single time I get a new doctor.

Because my trial was so public, the admins here had initially decided it would be wise for me to change my name before moving me into the dorms with the other omegas. They said it would increase my chances of finding a pack. I was quick to refuse them though. There was simply no point. I have known since the moment I woke up from my coma that I’d never find an alpha that would want me after what Preston said I did.

At least, not until I met him .

My kind, beautiful alpha. He’s the only man to ever make me feel loved, and the only alpha whose scent gives me butterflies.

I lick my lips, imagining Kofi’s decadent scent. He smells of lavender and sandalwood. The aroma is so sharp and soft at the same time, confusing all my senses in the best possible way.

My stomach clenches, and I suck in a slow breath through my nose. My body is struggling so hard, trying desperately to remain loyal to Preston. But I refuse to give that jerk another moment of life.

I’ll force my body to get over him, even if it’s the last thing I do.

“Carys was only mated to a single alpha,” Dr. Ambrose’s voice cuts through my dreary thoughts. “It has made the procedures go much quicker. Of course, she had to wait to start her treatments until she healed.”

Dr. Thain stares at my chart with his mouth popped open. I’m sure he’s looking at the pictures of the bathtub where they found me. I don’t have many memories of that night. Mostly flashes of moments, coupled with terrifying dreams that blur the line between reality and a trauma-fueled imagination. But I will forever remember the sight of my own blood splattered across the ceiling.

“But since starting her treatments, Carys has progressed quite nicely.” Dr. Ambrose looks at me fondly, as if I’ve done something to accomplish this fact. “Now,” he leans down as he speaks to me, filled with friendly energy, “how are you feeling, omega? Any lingering pain? Nausea, dizziness?”

I force a vibrant smile. “I feel wonderful, thank you.” It’s a complete lie, but I need the pair to go away. My whole body aches and my veins feel like they’re on fire. I just want to lie in my bed and burn in silence.

“That’s excellent news!” Dr. Ambrose beams at me while Thain jots a few notes in my chart. “Now, I don’t want to get your hopes up,” the older beta stands a little taller, acting as if he’s about to offer me the grandest prize, “but I think in a year or so, you might be ready for placement.”

Shock hits me, and my smile falls. “A year ?” My voice pitches high with disbelief, and tears sting the back of my eyes. Kofi won’t wait another year. Alphas are intense beings that love hard and fast. They connect with their omegas in a matter of weeks—or even days—rushing to mate them as soon as possible. A year is an eternity.

“Dr. Ambrose,” I force myself to sit up, pleading with him, “I can’t do this for another year. Please don’t make me.”

“I understand, Carys.” He holds up his hands as if trying to physically stop my growing panic. “But we have to be sure you’re ready. If you were to be mated off and your system isn’t?—”

“But I’m ready now,” I say as firmly as I can, but my words are jerky and weak. I hate that I’m crying right now. But I can’t help it. My treatment has left me drained. “I completed my scenting therapy and did all my OT.” My voice rises, more steady. “You keep saying how quickly I’m progressing and how well I’m doing.” I clutch the blanket in my fists. “I haven't gotten sick in months. What else do you need to see?”

“I know.” Dr. Ambrose sits at the tiny stool next to my bed. It’s clear from the look on his face that he’s scared I’m going to fall into a full distress, but the thought of doing this for another year has me gutted to the core. “Listen to me, Carys,” he says in a gentle tone. “Omegas like you need extra time and care before jumping into the arms of another pack.”

“I’ve never had a pack ,” I whisper bitterly.

Preston had convinced me that packs were unnecessary for omegas, that too many alphas in one house would be overwhelming and might even hurt me. But since coming to Havenfield, I’ve learned just how evil my old mate was.

Omegas need a pack to survive. We need multiple alphas to protect us and tend to our physical needs. Even the presence of a beta can do wonders for an omega’s emotional health. What we can’t do is be locked up all alone for hours on end, but Preston never cared about what was best for me. He only cared about his own selfish desires.

The sick fuck.

“Please try to understand, omega.” Dr. Ambrose scans my face. He looks so sad, like I’m some kind of wounded creature, too pathetic to even know how hopeless I really am. “Dr. Blackwell’s pack will wait for you. They’ve all pledged to wait as long as they have to.”

“Please leave.” I lie down, pulling my blanket over my head. “I’d like to be alone.” I roll away from the pair, refusing to look at either one of them.

Dr. Ambrose continues to speak, but I can’t hear him. I’m concentrating too hard on the rush of blood in my ears. My whole body is tight and hot. I feel like I might be sick.

I can’t risk losing my alpha.

When I first arrived at Havenfield, I would feel Preston’s anger pulsing through our bond every second of every day. His continued rage kept me in a constant state of fear. I wanted to die, and take all of Preston’s horrible emotions with me. But it all stopped the second I met Kofi Blackwell. It was as if a door in my mind closed. Preston was gone, and sweet relief rushed in.

Kofi gave me hope in my darkest moments.

And now, Dr. Ambrose wants me to wait a whole nother year before I can be with him and his pack.

My first mating wasn’t hell. This is.

Not wanting to cry once again, I squeeze my eyes tight, and I think of Kofi and his pack. I can’t wait to meet Swanley and Isaac in person. I wonder what they look like, how they smell, and how it will feel when they touch and love me.

I’m positive it will be heaven.