I’m still confused as to why he’s so deeply immersed in it. It’s a standard rescue operation. Given he’s allocated as my controller, his focus will be on my protection so I can get on with healing the prisoners we hope to rescue, along with any injured soldiers. He’s not even a team leader: he’ll be reporting to another alpha. In my briefing, it confirmed I would be stationed in a field healer contingent. It’s likely that Zeb’s whole team will be allocated to the protection of the temporary operational base.
It’s going to be emotionally draining and mentally destroying. I’m braced for it and ready to lift the burdens those poor souls have endured at the hands of the Uncorrupted, in any way I can. My unique omega gifts mean I’ve seen more than my share of such roles, dealing with the victims of the Uncorrupted.
He’s not a green recruit and is sure to have been through his share of such operations, too. I can’t think what would be driving this level of mental activity.
Not that alphas shirk their duties. They take them damn seriously, truth be told. Yet there’s still that niggling sense that this doesn’t feel quite right.
Anomalies.
In him?
Or in the mission?
Maybe it’s me, at twenty-eight, still not bonded, being knotted for the first time… Maybe I should seek out one of those gamma therapists employed by the government, whom I’ve heard so many good reports about.
I sit up in bed.
The sensation of things sliding hits me like a physical blow. I press my fingers to my temples. The sudden stabbing pain is one I associate with deceit: a discordant, disquieted, unsettled churning that centers in the pit of my stomach.
Again, is the deceit in him or the mission?
I also get this feeling when I’ve spent too much time with extreme trauma victims. Still, that tends to arrive in slow increments. This is like a hammer to the skull.
I swing my legs out of the side of the bed then groan. Damn the man fucks hard. I wince as I stand, wishing healers could self-soothe. Healer omegas have a notoriously high pain tolerance, so this is throwing me off kilter. I shuffle over into the tiny bathroom and check my reflection in the mirror. The beating pain in my skull is already fading, thank goodness. My eyes are particularly bright, despite my body feeling sore and tender.
The acts of healing mind and body can be draining, but spiritual healing, which is done exclusively through intimacy, can be energizing. His knot, maybe. Whatever the man is packing is off the charts.
Zeb
I hear her move, the bed creaking, followed by a soft curse. She’s sore. I didn’t hold back. Maybe I should have? It all got a little blurry the moment I touched her. Now I’m freaking out that I went too far.
My fingers tighten into a fist. I hear her close the door to the tiny shower facility room, and I take a deep breath.
I need to fucking think.
No. Don’t think. Shut it all down. I’m lying to a mind healer.Goddamned idiot, Zeb.She’s going to smell the deception from fifty paces. The spiritual side is going to be in full recoil mode, too.
I’m still churning through this shit storm when I sense her presence.
I don’t look up. The missions are always important, but this one is personal to Brach, and I can’t afford to fuck this up. I’ve never failed one yet, and I’m sure as hell not going to fail this one.Just make sure the bitch is dead.I’ve read the reports. Jenda needs to die. Sure, they will replace her, but whoever they pick can’t be worse, and if it derails the sick experiments even for a time, I will take it as a win.
Esme.
Ah, fuck.
Esme
I use the facilities to wash up and I slip on a clean healer dress. When I enter the lounge area, he’s so deep in focus he doesn’t even notice me standing at the door.
Or does he?
I take him in. The cap is back on, which makes me frown. Why would he wear a cap inside? Seems criminal to cover up that magnificent hair. His eyes are hidden in the shadows of it, and I don’t like that. He swipes through the screen, taps a few things, and then swipes again.
I get the strangest impression that he is faking his avid interest in whatever he’s reading. My lips curve into a smile. He was definitely trying to wear me out so he could get back to it.
He glances up from his data briefly before his eyes swing back to his tablet. And then, almost like they’re subjected to magnetic force, they’re on me again, and he gives me a slow up-down look that lights me up.
Zeb
