Page 43 of Thorns That Bloom
Theo blinks and widens his eyes at me in shock. He stares at me from a chair by the sink, where he sits holding a bloodied towel wrapped around his hand.
Icansmell his pheromones. It wasn’t just in my head.
And neither is the tall, muscular woman standing by him. She turns to me, her hands resting on her wide hips, and her pheromones waft through the air toward me. She, too, is an alpha. Roses and oak. A faint smell. Not as terrifying as most, for some reason. Maybe because she's a woman. An older one. The sort of person I imagine would have a family and a partner. Not that she couldn’t do whatever she wanted with me if we were both in the heat of it, but—
I cut my spiraling thoughts and adjust my eyes back on Theo, making sure this really is happening. “I…heard someone got injured,” I finally choke out. My voice comes out much shakier than I would like.
Theo looks pale, like he’s seen a ghost. Or maybe it’s the blood loss.
“Yeah. But apparently, he’stotally fine,” the woman says sharply, throwing her arm up at Theo in frustration.
He smirks, shifting his eyes from me to her. “It’s not like I’m going to die, Pauline.” The faint smell of blood mixes with his pheromones. I get a little queasy when glancing at the towel, but don’t step away like I want to.
“Oh, right! Your finger is basically coming off, and you think you can just sit here, waitingfor—”
When Theo notices my disturbed expression, he jumps in. “It’s not coming off, it’s just…a little… Look, I checked online, and it says that as long as I keep pressure on it and keep the bits together, it should be fine until they can spare someone to treat me.”
Internally gagging at the mere idea, I furrow my brows. “I-I can take you,” I blurt.
Goddammit. I was supposed to stay away.
This is the very fucking opposite of staying away.
“N-No!” Theo protests, shaking his head. “I’m fine, really! I don’t even feel faint anymore. And-and it’s not bleeding that much.” With every word that leaves his mouth, I slowly realize why he sounds so freaked out. Something between anger and comfort pulls at me. He’s trying to push me away so I don’t get upset or uncomfortable. He thinks about what happened to me, and that I can’t handle being around him.
Pauline groans, clearly done with him. “Because you’re cutting off circulation! Take this lovely person’s offer and go get your fucking finger stitched before it rots off!”
Theo looks like a puppy getting a beating. And pale. Oh, he looks pale.
Worry grips me. Fuck. Why do I worry about him?
I guess it’s only human. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s a person who’s hurt, and I’m someone who can help. Nothing more than that.
Or maybe it’s my brain finally seeing a way to solve thisthingthat’s been torturing me for the past three weeks. This unresolved tension I’ve refused to work through. ‘There you go, you idiot. Make it so you’re trapped in a car with him. That way you’ll have to talk about your stupid feelings,’ it exclaims.
“I don’t have a car,” Theo says softly, looking at me in that careful way that makes me feel like I’m made of glass. “Otherwise, I would’ve—”
“Would’ve what, dumbass?!” Pauline shouts at him and raises her hand, about to slap him over the top of the head, but she stops herself. “Would’ve driven yourself there with your finger all messed up and bleeding? Goddammit, Theo. Can you please take him, umm…?” She trails off, raising one of her brows to indicate she wants to know my name.
“Sam.”
“Sam. Hello.” She softens her voice for me, smiling briefly. “I haven’t seen you before. Anyway, please, can you get this idiot to the hospital? I’ve already written up an injury report about this. I don’t have a car either, so…”
“Sure. It’s fine. Let’s go,” I say, glancing at Theo before I turn in the door. The woman hushes him behind me.
His footsteps follow me now, and I wonder if he can sense how nervous I am. Can he smell it from my pheromones? My heart’s beating so loudly in my ears he might as well hear it, too.
I get a little ahead, but Theo catches up to me, slowing by my side. My gut twists, but I try to shake the feeling off. “You really don’t have to do this.” The low breathiness of his voice gives me goosebumps.
“Iamdoing this,” I reply, glaring at him briefly. “Can you walk fine? Are you not lightheaded?”
“I’m…I’m all good.”
At least he seems to have given up on convincing me I’m not really ready to do this. He shuts up and walks a few steps behind me until we getto the parking lot.
Why am I getting so frustrated?
Why did I open my mouth and agree to do this?
