Beau and Charlie’s shirts are still in the back from earlier. I reach over and grab them, draping them over Willa like blankets. Pack scent. She needs to be surrounded by pack scent.
I take a minute to text Beau and Charlie with my other hand and tell them to meet us at the hotel as soon as they can.
I briefly let go of her to start the engine and shift into gear.
The whole way, I keep up a steady stream of words, probably nonsense, but she seems to respond to my voice, seems to calm slightly when I talk.
“You’re going to be okay. We’re going to take care of you. Whatever you need, whatever it takes. I’m so sorry, Wills.” I’ll never be done apologizing to this beautiful woman.
The Hotel Silverado appears ahead, and I pull up to the entrance, not caring about parking regulations. I get out and quickly make my way to the other side, pulling Willa into my arms. A valet starts toward us, and I throw him the keys.
“Sir, is everythi—” the woman behind the counter starts, but I cut her off.
“I need you to send up a heat specialist. Room 424,” I tell the front desk clerk, who takes one look at Willa in my arms and pales. “Now,” I bark when she doesn’t move.
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir. We have medical staff on call—I’ll send them up immediately.”
“Someone who knows Omega heat protocols.”
“We— Yes, we have someone on call. I’ll contact them right away.”
“Good,” I say, making my way to the elevator. Willa has fallen asleep—at least I hope that’s all it is.
The ride up is agony. Willa’s fever is getting worse, and she’s growing more restless in her sleep. I can feel each shuddering movement against my chest.
“Almost there, love. Just hold on a little longer.”
I fish the key card out of my pocket and shoulder through the door, carrying Willa straight to the massive bed.
This time, when I lay her down, she doesn’t fight it. Just curls into the pillows, small and vulnerable and burning up.
My phone buzzes.
Beau:On our way. Security has Felton. Police called. Might be a while still…
Charlie:Is she okay?
I text back one-handed while stripping off my jacket, adding it to the nest of blankets around Willa.
Jake:At the hotel. Medical is on the way up. Keep you posted.
I don’t know what else to do. Stand there, helpless, watching her shake and burn and suffer. Every instinct in me is screaming to fix this, to make it better, but I don’t know how. I work on taking off her coat, shoes, and socks. I tuck a sweat-soaked strand of hair behind her ear.
The knock on the door comes exactly ten minutes later. When I open it, a woman in her late forties—professional, with a commanding presence—stands there.
“I’m Dr. Reeves. I understand we have an Omega-related issue?”
“Yes. In here.” I lead her to the bedroom, grateful beyond words that she’s here.
Dr. Reeves takes one look at Willa, and her expression goes soft. She moves quickly but carefully, kneeling by the side of the bed.
“How long has she been like this?”
“I don’t know exactly. At least an hour. Maybe more. She was—” I have to force the words out. “Wasn’t with us when it started.”
Dr. Reeves’ expression is chastising. “I see. Has she been conscious at all?”
“Briefly. In the car. But mostly unresponsive.”
