Page 116 of Dream Girl
Ducking to look under the bed, I spied two bare feet with mauve toenails. Grace wasunderthe bed, in some PJs. Not mine or Wes’ shirt, but actual PJs that my sister must have chosen. She was asleep on the rug with only Mr. Hippo–no pillow or blanket.
My belly sank.
“Grace.” I pulled her out from under the bed, unmoving and lifeless, as panic continued to course through my veins. Something kept beeping.
Her wrist beeped. I checked the monitor. Seizure. Shit. A brief one. The kind we called the doctor in the morning about, not the kind we went to the emergency room for.
She was breathing. But it was shallow. The heartbeat on the monitor was slow. Her temperature was cool, her skin clammy.
Her scent had gone rotten.
Spiral.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My heart sped. Spirals were the opposite of a heat spike–when hormones rose as an omega’s body prepared to go into heat. A spiral was a sign that hormones were drastically dropping–or out of whack.
It could also be dangerous. I should know. It happened to me a couple of times when dealing with Caroline and the aftermath. One of those times was bad enough for me to go to the hospital.
“Peaches, are you okay, can you hear me?” I asked, trying to wade through my panic enough to care for her.
She made a little noise, but she didn’t nuzzle me like usual or open her eyes.
What did I do?
Safe.The first thing I needed was to get her feeling safe.
“I’ve got you. Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.” I scooped her up and carried her out, making a mental note to get someone to make that door between our roomsnow. She liked my bathroom better anyway and I didn’t care.
We went through my suite and into my bedroom. I grabbed my phone, then brought us through the closet and into my nest, closing the door, and turning on the salt lamp, giving the tiny, cozy room a soft glow.
“I’m going to let you come in here with me until you get nice and warm, okay?” If she didn’t feel safe in Wes’ bed or her own room, maybe she’d feel safe here with me.
She made a little mewing sound as I tucked her into my messy nest. I took off my shirt and put it on her, removing the bleach-smelling pajamas. Grabbing my phone, I texted Wes.
Me
Grace is spiraling. Need you.
Hopefully, Wes’ phone was on–or he’d feel us. I could handle her myself for now, but eventually I’d get her to the point where she’d need him.
After this, we’d both need him.
Drawing her onto my bare chest, I covered her with everything–blankets, pillows, clothes, all things filled with scents that would comfort her and keep warm.
“There you go. You’re nice and safe here with me. It’s just us. No alphas. You’re safe and I’m right here,” I whispered, curling around her clammy body, marking her with my scent.
Her heartbeat remained slow, breath shallow. I whispered to her, snuggled her, ran my fingers through her damp hair, and purred, trying to pour all my love into her. I let her know that she was loved and wanted. That I saw her. That I needed her here with us.
Wes didn’t come. I texted him again. I didn’t want to leave her to get him, but I didn’t want to bring her out yet.
“Come on, Peaches, you’re going to be okay.” I rubbed her back, trying to keep my own panic at bay. While she hadn’t gotten worse, she wasn’t all better.
“Evan, Evan, are you in here, what’s wrong?” someone called.
Wes?
“Evan, I’m coming in,” Brennan said from my bedroom. A moment later, there was a rap on the door. “Are you in there, what’s wrong, what do you need?”
