Page 22 of Deadly Ties

Rory gives a coughing kind of laugh, but just shakes his head at me, so I sink back against Cam and watch her work. She’s quick and steady-handed, her stitches neat enough to hang on a wall. Cam takes it all like a champion, and I soothe the pain as best I can with a soft hum in his ear. Just as she’s finishing up and applying a bandage, Angel pops back in with a tray of food. I perk up, but she doesn’t look at any of us as she leaves it on a table. Both Cam and Rory go as stiff as posts, though, which puts me on high alert, too. What the hell is going on? Why are we under the same roof as Roan Bisha’s attack dog? And what’s with the weird, tingling energy coming off my mates every time they look Angel’s way?

All questions I plan to ask as soon as the old omega gives us privacy, but first I have to go through a checkup worthy of Cam. She has a thermometer and a blood pressure cuff in her basket, along with a bottle of antibiotics. I swallow two while she checks me over. “The lip will heal, but you’re not far off sepsis with that scalp wound.” The antiseptic wipe hurts like a bitch, and I’m too tired to hold in my whimper, but Rory hugs me through it all. “A bath can wait until you’ve eaten. The cook has a nice broth ready for you. And when you wash, watch the temperate. You’re on the edge of a fever right now.”

“We can take it from here,” Cam tells her, and she cocks her white brow at him. But she’s all business as she says, “Take things slowly. Omegas need physical contact, but he’s still very weak. Easing back into things is probably best.”

Which is a polite way of saying don’t rail my brittle bones. I open my mouth to tell her we’re not like that – not really – but she’s already leaving the room and Rory’s lips are suddenly on mine. It’s not a real kiss, more like he’s trying to breathe his life into me, but my stupid body lights up like he’s panting for it, and I groan into his mouth. My cock also immediately springs to life, and I can’t help grinding on his thigh. My omega perfume – still sour from stress – washes over us and I feel them both stiffen.

Fuck. Talk about an awkward reunion.

“I stink,” I tell him, deciding distraction is my only option. “And I want to piss down something that’s not a hole in the floor.”

That gets Rory up off the bed, but instead of giving me room, he scoops me up, holding me bridegroom style. Fuck. I’m not a small guy, but I’m so fucking wasted away he hardly needs to use his shifter strength. I grind my teeth until more of that sour scent seeps out, but he just carries me over to the tray Angel left. Passing me the bowl of soup, he drops the bread roll in my lap and heads on to the bathroom. I keep my eyes away from the mirror as he props me on a long marble vanity. “You can bathe, shit, whatever you want. But you need to eat, Kel.” He strokes a shaking thumb over my ribs and I can’t blame him for flinching, since the sigh that comes out of me sounds like a death rattle. “Those fuckers,” he whispers. “Crouch is a dead wolf walking.”

I elbow his hand away, trying to hide how much I love the feel of his touch. He’s worried about me, not horny, and the factIlook like the walking dead isn’t going to change that any time soon. To stop the whine that’s building in my throat, I tip the bowl up and slurp down a good portion of the beef stew, grinning at him as it hits my stomach. I must be convincing enough, because he turns away and starts filling the giant tub with water. He holds a couple of different bath wash bottles to his nose, then dumps one in, and I hum as the jasmine and chamomile scent fills the air.

He turns away as I drop my shorts and I try not to feel insulted. He’s still hovering, but he doesn’t give my raging erection even a glance as he helps me into the tub. And then I forget all about my bruised ego as the hot, fragrant water envelopes me. I can’t hold in my moan. Food deprivation is one thing, but never feeling clean and soothed? Fuck, that’s torture for an omega.

Rory immediately drops to his haunches and starts running a cloth over my back and shoulders. I tip myself forward to give him better access, and when his hands go to my hair, I have to bite my lip to stop myself panting. His fingers have barely dug into my scalp before I’m jizzing in the water like a horny cub.

“Fuck.” I try to swirl it away under the bubbles, but even the luxury bath products can’t hide the smell of my cum. “Sorry,” I mutter. “I’m just a goddamn wreck.”

“You’re perfect,” Rory purrs, but his hands stay in my soapy hair, and his touch is so careful, it doesn’t feel much different that when Cam checks me over. I try to tell myself it’s not a rejection, but once upon a time, when Rory said I was perfect, I believed him. He was always happy to lend a hand when I got extra needy, and never turned me away when I needed a cuddle. All three of us have been intimate to some degree, but it was Rory who stepped up when Link wasn’t around...

“Wait!” I push him back in a wave of soapy water, half-rising from the tub. “Where’s Link? Why isn’t he here?”

The look that passes over Rory’s face makes my heart give a messy thump. Oh, no! “Was he shot? Rory, is Linkdead?”

My voice spirals, a crazy screeching that echoes in the acoustics, and there’s a curse from the next room. A moment later, Cam is looming in the doorway, his shredded pants hanging off his muscular frame. Rory is delicious, but Cam is stacked, and at any other time I’d be drooling, even with the bandage on his thigh. But all I can think of isLink, and why he’s the only one not here with me right now.

“He’s fine, Kelly,” Cam says, while Rory tries to lower me back into the tub. “He’s at home. On the lake. He didn’t go to Crouch’s with us.”

“Oh.” That makes sense, I guess. Link is the planner in our pack. He’s probably hunched over his laptop, making sure no one is hunting me down. “But he’s on his way, right? He’ll be here soon?” When a strange look passes between them, I hiss and slap my hands on the water. It’s childish, but I’m dangling by my fingertips. And hiding shit from me is not helping anything. “Tell me what’s going on. Are we not safe here?” My eyes bug as I study their tense expressions. “Are we Doctor Death’sprisoners?”

“No,” Rory splutters, then shakes his head at Cam. I don’t know what that means, but then he’s rushing to say, “He’s not really like that. Arben, I mean. Shit. Look, some stuff went down between us. A whole lot of stuff. But you don’t need to worry about any of that right now, bro. Just rest. Get better…”

“What kind of stuff?” I interrupt him, hating the way my stomach clenches around that little bit of soup. I’m hungry, but nauseous. Tired down to my bones, but jangling with nerves. I can hear my pulse beating in my ears, and I know I’m a second away from losing my shit. “Just tell me what happened, Rory!”

“It can wait,” Cam says from the door, back in domineering doctor mode. “You need to focus on getting your strength back, Kelly.”

Fuck that! I’ve been beaten, starved, locked up, and threatened for nearly a year. I might look as rough as guts, but inside I’m shockproof. “If you think I can just sit back and rest when I don’t know what has you all so twitchy, then you’ve forgotten who I am.” I’m putting on my haughty, billionaire brat voice right now, but these guys need a goddamn wake-up call. Settling back in the water, I glare at them both and bark, “Now, stop being a pair of manky wankers, and spill!”

Elvana

As soon as I deliver the dinner tray to the omega suite, I retreat to the room across the hall where Arben is waiting for me on a pristine nest. There are half a dozen rooms on this floor designed for omegas, something that felt kind of creepy until Arben explained they’re used by the Underground. It’s not always easy for targeted omegas to escape their alphas, and my dad’s estate is a secret halfway house. A refuge, until something more permanent can be arranged. It gives the rooms an impersonal feel, but that’s really a positive for omegas, since we can be kind of pissy about strange places and unfamiliar scents.

The bed in this room is enclosed in filmy curtains, with more substantial velvet drapes tied back against mahogany posts. But I’m not really looking at the décor. Not when my mate is spread out on the covers, his shirt sleeves rolled up so my mating mark is on display.

I rush to his side, tossing myself onto the nest and crawling up to straddle his big body. While he gives a dark chuckle, I sneak my fingers between his shoulders and the covers, pressing my face tight to his throat. He smells like musk, blood, and night air. But it’s nothisblood that’s peppered on his shirt. Cam is in the next room, getting sewn up by Mrs. Lewis. While Kelly and Rory cuddle up to him for moral support. “It’s just a flesh wound,” Arben says again, his big hands holding me close while he strokes my hair. “He’ll be fine.”

“But you brought him here. You must have been worried.”

He grunts, like worrying about Cam never crossed his mind. “I didn’t want you to hear he was shot and not see the evidence for yourself.” He tilts my chin up so he can study my face. “Are you unhappy having them here?”

Am I? It’s only been a few hours since Rory was begging to catch up so we could talk, but I guess that’s a moot point now. “Kelly needs them. They have to be here.”

“But we don’t have to be. We can go back to the cabin. Mrs. Lewis will let us know if we’re needed.”

I nod, even though I don’t like the sound of that at all. I should want to give the guys room, especially if that cuddle pile becomes something more. But I don’t want to walk away from Kelly just because he’s back with his pack. And I don’t want updates from Mrs. Lewis about Cam’s injury. I want to see they’re both okay with my own eyes. “Maybe we should just stay the night here.” I squint at the sliver of dark sky between the drapes. “What’s left of it, anyway.”

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