Wraith nods and turns away, moving to the kitchenette where I hear him opening the small refrigerator, the clink of glass and plastic. When I'm sure he isn't looking, I pull the throw over my lap and tug my pants down so I can get to my thigh.
Taking a deep breath, I press the auto-injector against my outer thigh and push the button. There's a loud click that makes me jolt, followed by a sharp sting as the needle deploys, delivering the medication in a hot rush. I hiss through my teeth.
It fuckingburns.
The effect is almost instantaneous. A wave of dizziness fills me like the medication is flooding every nerve ending, the room tilting and flipping. But worse is the sudden, burning pain that erupts from my shoulder, right where Wade's mating mark used to be, where I burned it off with a flat iron all those weeks ago.
It feels like someone's pressed a hot poker to the scar, reopening it, searing through layers of skin and into the muscle and bone beneath. My hand flies up to cover the spot with an involuntary pained cry.
Wraith is suddenly there, kneeling in front of me, eyes wide with concern. His hands hover near me, not touching, uncertain what to do. The blue of his irises is almost swallowed again by his black pupils, his woodsy scent sharpening with alarm.
"It's okay," I manage, though my voice sounds thin even to my own ears. "Just hurts where I—" I cut myself off, not wanting to explain about the mark, about what I did to remove it.
But understanding dawns in his eyes anyway. His gaze flicks to my hand covering my shoulder, and something dark passes over his face. Not pity, but a deep, simmering rage that I somehow know isn't directed at me.
The room spins again, and I sway where I sit. Instinctively, I lean toward him, toward his solid presence and comforting scent. Toward the only alpha who's ever made me feel safe.
His hands come up cautiously, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders before gently steadying me. Even now, he's careful not to make me feel trapped, to leave me an escape route if I want it.
And Idon'twant it.
I want to sink into his warmth, let it chase away the frigid chill that's spreading through my veins.
He offers me a bottle of water, the familiar electric blue of the electrolyte drinks he's been bringing me, but this one freshly mixed from powder. I take it gratefully, washing down the anti-nausea pill he places in my palm.
I just hope it will take effect before I embarrass myself again by throwing up in front of Wraith. OronWraith. But the suppression shot is already burning through my system like liquid fire, making everything spin and tilt. My shoulder throbs with phantom pain, the ghost of Wade's mark flaring to life as if the scars I made when I burned it off are actively fighting the suppressants.
Another wave of dizziness crashes over me, and I sway forward, unable to hold myself upright. Wraith's hands shoot out again to steady me, catching me before I topple over. And for once, I don't flinch away from an alpha's sudden touch.
"Sorry," I mumble, though it comes out slurred and weak. "The shot's stronger than I expected."
Wraith's hands move again, signing, but I can't focus enough to understand. The room is spinning too fast, colors bleeding into each other.
A violent shiver rips through me, my teeth chattering as cold sweeps through my veins. It's like ice water is replacing my blood, freezing me from the inside out. The suppressant is supposed to counteract the heat hormones, but this feels like being dunked in the freaking Arctic Ocean.
"C-c-cold," I stammer, hugging myself tighter.
Wraith shifts closer, hesitating before he signs something that looks like a question. I nod, not even sure what I'm agreeing to. He cautiously moves onto the couch beside me, the cushions dipping under his weight. The blanket he wrapped around my shoulders doesn't provide nearly enough warmth against the chemical chill coursing through my body.
Another tremor wracks me, this one so violent that my head snaps back. A small, pained sound escapes my throat. I find myself leaning into Wraith, my body seeking warmth on pure instinct.
To my surprise, his muscled arms wrap around me, pulling me closer to his side. He's still so careful not to trap me, leaving space for me to escape if I want to. But I don't want to.
Just like that night in the VIP suite.
My teeth won't stop chattering, the trembling growing worse as the suppressant wages war with my biology. Wraith shifts, and for a moment I think he's going to pull away. Instead, he turns, lifting me with shocking gentleness and settling me more fully against his chest.
O-K?he signs.
I nod, burying my face against his neck where his scent is strongest even through his face gaiter. The woodsy mountain air scent floods my senses, quieting the chaos in my mind. His arms tighten around me, one spanning my back while the other curves around my shoulder, a shield against the world. His thumb brushes my scar and I freeze up, but the contact… helps, somehow. He slides his hand back immediately so he isn't touching it, a low growl vibrating in his broad chest that sounds like the intonation of an apology.
“It’s okay,” I manage through gritted teeth. “That actually helped. Can you do it again?”
He nods and his rough palm settles back over the scar, large enough to cover the entire burn. The heat of his skin seeps through my shirt, easing the phantom pain in a way that makes zero logical sense but brings immediate relief.
My body sags against him as the worst of the pain recedes, exhaustion filling the void it leaves behind. The suppressant is still working its way through my body—I can feel it damping down the heat hormones that had started to build—but the violent reaction is passing, leaving me drained and limp in his arms.
B-E-T-T-E-R?Wraith signs again with his free hand, the other still pressed against my scarred shoulder.
