Page 10 of In Their Arms

A soft broken sound interrupts my thoughts, the first sign of life beyond the rise and fall of his chest. His fingers twitch, curling weakly against the sheets, before one shaky hand lifts, reaching for the oxygen mask strapped over his nose and mouth.

I am moving before I think, up and out of my chair in an instant, my hand wrapping around his wrist before he can pull it off. “Hey,” I purr, pushing some of my emotions into my voice. “Keep that on for now. Let me call Quentin first.”

Blake’s eyelids flutter, his breath shallow, as his lids flutter open. Those gorgeous brown eyes are unfocused at first, glassy with exhaustion, dazed from whatever hell his body has been through. He blinks slowly, the movement sluggish, but then—recognition. His gaze locks onto mine, the fog lifting just enough for him to see me. His fingers go slack, his hand falling back to the blanket.

I press the small button by his bed, waiting for Quentin to come check Blake out and tell us what our next steps are. Well, I know what the options are but it’s up to Blake how we move forward. Quentin shuffles in, a grin taking over his slight smile as he bounds up to the bed, fiddling with a few of the machines before speaking. “How are you feeling, Blake?” He reaches forward to pull the oxygen mask down, Blake sucking in a few gulps of air.

“Like I got hit by a truck.”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth, the tension in my chest easing just slightly. “Sounds about right.”

Blake blinks, his lashes fluttering as his breath evens out, his fingers curling against the fabric of the blanket. His body is still trembling, the lingering effects of exhaustion keeping him too weak to move much, but the worst of the fog is fading from his expression. He reaches for me and I gladly wrap my hand around his, a touch that we both desperately need.

But the moment doesn’t last. His whole body tenses, his muscles locking up as his chest rises and falls too quickly, his breath turning sharp. His fingers tighten around the sheets, knuckles going white. His eyes dart across the room, searching, looking for someone. “Where’s Luca?”

The words come out strained, edged with panic, his voice barely more than a breath but filled with enough desperation to make my stomach twist. I squeeze his hand, drawing his attention back to me. “Easy,” I murmur, leaning in to brush my lips against his cheek. “He’s with Grayson. They’ll be back in a second.”

He calms but not enough, his grip on my hand tight, his scent hardening the longer no one speaks. “I can’t… did he… where—”

I’ve never seen a connection like the one between Luca and Blake. It’s stronger than Blake’s connection to his own Alphas and the way they seem to find each other—our Omegas—it’s both mystical and a little frightening. “Feel through the bond, Blake.” His nostrils are flared, Blake not listening to me in the slightest. His panic is riding him hard, Quentin watching me with worry. “Genius,” I push out, adding an edge of bark to it. I’ve never called him that but he is one of the smartest men I know. And the little growl attached to that name isn’t a sound I make often. After all, I’ve been a Beta so long, I rarely tap into my Alpha instincts. Blake freezes and then focuses on me, waiting for me to speak. “Feel through the bond. That’s why they left. I’m sure you can feel Luca, the same way you felt him through Luther.”

I drag my fingers through his hair, tightening ever so slightly to ground him. He relaxes into the bed, his lids fluttering closed. “They’re okay. He’s happy.Reallyhappy.” He hums a sound of appreciation, all that tension melting away. A few moments of silence fall between us as I continue running my fingers through his strands, my other hand wrapped around his until he speaks again. “Okay, give it to me straight, Quentin. How bad is it?”

I’m sure Blake is expecting to receive minor news about his heart and be sent on his way. Unfortunately, his expression shifts the moment Quentin’s shoulders drop. "Blake, you’re not going to like this," he says finally, his voice even but firm, the kind of tone meant to keep someone from panicking before they even know why they should. "But you need to come off the suppressants completely."

Blake lets out a small sound, almost pained but doesn’t react otherwise. It makes me want to burn down the entire fucking world to protect him from whatever the problem is but Quentin just continues. It feels like there’s something I’m not entirely aware of.

"Your body is trying to push you into a heat," he explains. "It’s rejecting the medication entirely."

Blake’s reaction is immediate as he frantically shakes his head. “No. I don’t want to have a heat," he mumbles, his voice trembling at the edges. "I don’t—I can’t—" The words break off, swallowed by the tension rolling through his body. His scent shifts from something sour to overly sweet, his jaw pulling tight at the obvious distress his body is being pulled through.

Quentin reaches forward, squeezing Blake’s arm. "It’s not something you can avoid, Blake. Not this time. Your body is too weak to suppress its biological needs. If you don’t let it happen naturally, it’s going to break you down further."

His voice comes quieter this time. "What happens if I don’t?" He is grasping for options, reaching for any way out. His voice is tight, controlled, but I can hear the strain beneath it and I have absolutely no idea why Blake wouldn’t want a heat. Sure, I’ve never known him to have one but I thought that was because he was running a whole ass company. I’m beginning to see that there’s another reason entirely. "What happens if I don’t come off of them? If I stay on the suppressants? Or if you prescribe me stronger ones?"

"I won’t." Quentin exhales, his tone dropping just enough to soften the blow, but not enough to lessen the impact of his next words. "Because it could very well kill you. The safest option is to flush your system and let biology take its course naturally."

Blake exhales, but it is shaky, uneven. His eyes flick toward me for the first time since the conversation started, searching. I don’t know what he is looking for, but whatever it is, he doesn’t find it. There is too much fear there. Too much uncertainty.

Quentin rubs at his temple, exhaling through his mouth. "I’ll prescribe a sedative," he adds after a moment. "Something to help lessen the surge of pheromones when your heat hits. Because it’s going to be a rough one. I’ll give you a few moments. Just let me know when you’re ready to talk, okay, Blake? It’s good to see you awake. You gave us a bit of a scare."

The door clicks shut behind him, Blake struggling to sit up. I help him, situating pillows behind him until he’s comfortable enough, his gaze firmly trained on the door. No doubt he’s still waiting for Luca to step back inside, despite being able to faintly feel him through the bond.

The silence soon becomes awkward, one question running through my mind, begging me to ask it. So, I do. “What’s so bad about a heat?”

His eyes flicker up, meeting mine for just a second before he looks away again. The shift is subtle but immediate, his body tensing, his fingers curling slightly against my palm. Like he doesn’t want to answer. Like the words are too much to say aloud. “I hate how it feels,” he mutters, his voice rough around the edges. “I hate not being in control.”

I watch him, watch the way his knuckles stand out stark against his skin, watch the way his breathing is just a little too shallow, just a little too fast. Slowly, I move my thumb over the back of his hand, tracing careful, soothing circles against his skin. "Even if your mates are around you?" I ask.

"It’s not about feeling protected. It’s not about knowing that when I fall, I’ll be caught." He swallows hard, throat working around the words. "It’s that—" He stops, exhales, his breath shaking. "That neediness. The way I can’t keep my thoughts straight. The way everything feels foreign and scary."

I nod slowly, squeezing his hand, grounding him. "Have you always felt that way?"

Blake sighs, shaking his head once, then again, slower this time. "I’m not really sure when or why it started." His gaze drops, his fingers untangling from mine only to twist in the blanket, pulling at the fabric, kneading it like he needs something to keep his hands busy. “The feeling was there and then my first heat with Luther and Grayson and I just… they’ve been okay with it. But now, with everything…"

I see it the way his shoulders sag under the weight of our current reality. The way his breath stutters, uneven, like he is bracing himself for something inevitable. The way his body curls in on itself, just slightly, like he is trying to make himself smaller, like he is afraid of losing even more of himself than he already has.

God, he’s breaking my heart. I lean in, pressing my lips to the corner of his mouth but it’s Blake who twists his head to meet me, making it a full kiss. His hands lift, fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt, his touch desperate. I let him take what he needs. I let him press into me, let him pull me closer, let myself sink into the warmth of him, into the quiet, aching relief that settles in the space between us.

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