Page 90 of Feral Omega

"I'm O negative," Valek cuts in, already unzipping his jacket and crossing to the supply cabinets without waiting for me to ask. "Universal donor and all that shit. Better start prepping, Doc."

I stare at him for a heartbeat, stunned into silence by the uncharacteristic display of... what? Concern? Compassion?

From Valek, of all people?

But there's no mistaking the grim set of his mouth, the tightness around those frigid eyes as he retrieves the tubing and bags needed to set up a direct transfusion line.

Gritting my teeth, I give a terse nod and turn back to Ivy, already reaching for a fresh roll of bandages. I work in tense silence, my movements sure and precise as I redress the wound and hang the first bag of Valek's blood.

I try not to think about it too hard, try not to dwell on the implications of having this twisted killer's lifeblood flowing through Ivy's veins. Because it's for her own good, a necessary evil to keep her from slipping away into the abyss.

That's all it is. All it can be.

And yet...

I glance over to where Valek slouches against the wall, arm outstretched as his ruby essence slowly fills the second bag hooked to the slender needle embedded in his vein.

My eyes linger on the viscous liquid, tracking the slow drip as it flows down the length of tubing and disappears beneath the crisp white dressing now swaddling Ivy's wounded arm.

An irrational flare of possessiveness surges through me, a snarl building in my chest as I watch that tainted essence mingling with hers.

Mine, a voice in the back of my skull howls, a primal cry that blots out all reason. My omega, my wildfire, mine alone to claim and?—

I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the twisted impulse down with every ounce of willpower I possess. This is about saving her life, nothing more. About preserving that precious flame until I can tend to it properly, shelter it and keep it safely banked until the moment is right.

Nothing else matters beyond that singular goal. Not the feral beast lurking in the hallway, not the twisted obsession churning in my veins.

Just Ivy.

I lose track of how long I work, my world narrowing to the steady beep of the heart monitor and the gentle rise and fall of her chest. At some point, Valek disappears, replaced by Whiskey.

I don't acknowledge him, don't acknowledge any of them. Just continue my silent vigil, monitoring her vitals with an intensity that borders on reverence.

Eventually, the furrow of her brow eases, the harsh lines of pain smoothing into something more peaceful. Her color improves, the waxy pallor giving way to a healthier flush as the infection begins to purge from her system.

Only then do I finally allow myself to slump back on my heels, exhaustion crashing over me in a dizzying wave. My gaze drifts to the window, to where the first pale rays of dawn are just beginning to chase away the shadows.

A new day.

And she'll live to see it.

Chapter

Thirty-Four

IVY

Iwake with a start, my eyes flying open as consciousness returns in a disorienting rush. For a few giddy moments, I can't place my surroundings—the harsh fluorescent lights, the clinical scent of antiseptic, the steady beep of a heart monitor.

Then it all comes crashing back in a wave of dizzying clarity.

The mission. The firefight. Valek and the sniper's nest. My desperate flight through the frozen wilderness.

Wraith.

My breath catches in my throat as fractured images from the past few days flicker through my mind. The bone-deep chill of that icy cave, the hulking shadow keeping silent vigil over me. Those pale, merciless eyes boring into mine as he tended to my wounds with clumsy gentleness.

I shudder, the memories vivid enough to raise gooseflesh along my arms. Wraith was like something out of a fever dream, a living nightmare cloaked in shadow and menace.

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