“Sorry, still here. It’s… I…” A stronger wave builds, and I can’t help but groan.
“Yeah, I know,” Marcus murmurs, his voice apologetic. “It helps to find something near you that you can focus on.”
I clutch the strap of my bag, trying to pay attention to the rough feel of the fabric and the cool metal of the slider. Some of the haze recedes.
“I… think…” Marcus grunts as undilutedneedruns through the bond. This time it doesn’t dissipate at all. “Hopefully he’s still lucid when you get there. If he is, he can dose himself with the temporary sedative he was given just in case something like this happened. Then you’ll need to call the Haven near us.”
I increase my pace, practically running. “Just… just their normal number?”
“Yes.” Now his voice is ragged, too. “Jesusfuck, it’s setting in fast.”
The townhome comes into view as I turn the final corner. A sudden, horrid burst of pain whips through the bond and steals my breath.
“Marcus?” I ask. I’ve heard that heats can be painful if the Omega is neglected or ignored, but that felt especially awful.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he says, my trepidation reflected in his tone. “If he isn’t lucid, the sedative is in a small bottle in his bathroom.”
The call ends, and I drop the phone into my bag as I climb the four stairs to our door. It takes three tries to get the door unlocked because of my shaking hands. The minute it swings open, I’m met with a deluge of Cole’s apple scent. It’s sweet and potent, the primal need laced through it like a siren’s song. The strange bit of bitterness sits heavy in my stomach, though.
I’ve never smelled that from him. In Alphas, it means they’re worried or frightened. I try to remember the classes I had to take over the January break when I designated unexpectedly, but I can’t manage to grab onto whatever it was that bitterness meant in an Omega’s scent.
I close the door and let my eyes adjust to the dark entryway. None of the lights are on, and all the curtains are still pulled closed. The bond sits quiet in my chest, and the sudden loss of his desire disturbs me more than the strange addition to his scent.
“Cole?” My voice shakes as bad as my hands.
There’s a groan from deeper in the townhome and the bitterness grows stronger, twisting his scent completely. A smaller wave of pain fills my chest. I drop my bag on the floor and run toward the sound.
Cole is on the floor of the kitchen, crumpled in on himself, his face turned away from me. He’s shirtless, both of his bond marks on full display. Despite my unease, pride fills me at the sight of the scabbed-over bite I’d laid on his left wrist last night. I’m so caught up in the vision, it takes me a few minutes to realize there’s blood on the floor near his head.
“Cole,” I gasp and rush forward.
He groans as I clutch his jaw, trying to figure out where he’s injured. There’s a gash on his temple that’s bleeding freely. The bitter, twisted version of his scent rolls off of him in pulsing waves, like… like a distress beacon. I swallow my fear and try to channel Megan’s calm poise.
I grab the hand towel hanging from the oven’s handle and lay it to over the wound. Cole jerks at the press of the cloth. The bitterness grows stronger. Fear tightens my throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
“Cole?” I ask again.
This time, he doesn’t make any sound at all.
I reach for my phone but only feel the empty pocket of my leggings.Shit. I’d dropped it into my bag when Marcus hung up. An odd haze, different from earlier, crowds my vision. I focus on the counter, trying to see if his phone is nearby. When I spot it near the sink, I gently let his head rest on the floor again, the towel acting as both bandage and pillow.
Fear crowds my throat, shallowing out my breathing. I try and focus on something like Marcus had suggested. There’s two pill bottles on the counter, one knocked over and the small yellow pills spilling across the stone. A small device sits next to them.
A glucose monitor? Cole never mentioned he was diabetic. The display screen flashes the number 76. Is that high or low?
With a shaking hand, I pick up the small device. The brand is scrawled on the back, a pretty white font that’s stark against the black plastic. Beneath it,Acute OBS Blood Monitor.
All at once, I remember what the bitterness means in an Omega’s scent. I remember the somber Council staff that taught the class on bonding, the way he spent an entire hour talking about the dangers of being separated from an Omega once you’ve bonded with them and the way his dark eyes grew haunted as he described the neurological disease that can develop sometimes when an Omega is separated from their bonded Alpha for too long.
My gaze catches on Cole again.
Cole, who accidentally bonded with Marcus over three years ago and hadn’t seen him again until the gala last month. He groans again. I set the monitor back on the counter and then drop to my knees, running my hand along his neck and over his jaw. His skin is burning, like he has a fever—or is in heat.
“Charlotte?” His voice is rough gravel.
“It’s me,” I say, trying to keep my voice from betraying my fear. Not that it matters. He’ll be able to feel it. I override hislock screen, swiping until the emergency call button appears and then pressing it. It takes a moment for the call to start ringing.
His eyes open, unseeing for a minute before focusing on me.
