It hurts, and I groan in pain.
I lean into that scent of lemon and cinnamon, and the scent is so strong I think I am surely dead. It smells too good, too close, too perfect to be anything but heaven. I try my hardest to pull it closer. I need to touch it. Need to breathe it, need…
“Emmett,” the voice whispers, the terror edged with something else. Something I can’t quite place. Understanding, maybe? But that doesn’t make sense.
I struggle to open my eyes, but when I do, I see bright brown eyes staring back at me. Messy waves of chestnut flow about, and blood stains her porcelain cheeks.
Auryn.
My omega.
And all at once, the pain hits me tenfold.
She’s not my omega anymore, because I’m not an alpha anymore. I’m a broken, knotless thing that doesn’t deserve her. I’m likethem.
I reach for her hair, but I can barely move my arm. I’m sweating buckets, and it takes so much effort to walk, to breathe.
“Death,” I say. That's all I can say. Words are hard. I know how to speak, but my brain is muddled from the scent of lemongrass and peppercorn, my body not moving of my own accord.
I close my eyes because I can’t keep them open.
The same strong arms guide me, picking me up when I nearly fall to the ground.
“Is he going to be okay?” Auryn’s voice is high-pitched.
My delusions are meaner than they should be, because Auryn would never speak like that about me. Usually she wants to murder me. The way her voice sounds is so full of pain and concern, it makes my body twitch. I’m set down on something. No, someone.
Rain and thunderstorms. Smells like dirt.
“We won’t know for sure until we get him back to the lab,” Olly says, and then I feel his cold touch on my neck. I want to bristle and fight his touch because it’s not what I want, but I can’t deny that it feels good against my hot skin. Then I feel the softest touch on my arm. Small fingers squeeze my flesh, nails sinking into me hard, but the pain is welcome. Because this pain cuts through the rest. I know that touch.
I moan from the relief, one word, one name etched on my tongue.
“Auryn.”
“Pulse is high,” Olly says. He doesn’t ramble. His fingers splay over my neck, his cool touch a balm to the heat. “He’s burning up. Probably an infection.”
“You’ll get it when we get back, though, right Olly? Some antibiotics, some rest, and he’ll be good as new,sí?”
“We got you,” Gage says.
“Safe,” Auryn says, but I can hear the tears in her voice.
Don’t cry, baby, please…
“It’s okay,” Olly says, his fingers splaying over my throat. He rubs my neck lightly, squeezing. My breath is heavy, and his touch feels good. I hate that I like it as much as I do.
“You’re okay now. I’ll take care of you,” he whispers just before the darkness pulls me under.
My body is lifted, and once again I smell the heavy scent of bourbon. Footsteps echo, and familiar scents assault me. I’ve never noticed scents this much before, but I can smelleverything.Antiseptic. Mate. Blood. Sweat.
My back hits a cold surface, and I groan.
Olly’s hands are back on my throat.
“He’s feverish,” he says, the return of that calculating voice etching itself into my brain. “Auryn, step back.” It’s not commanding or demanding, but a plea. I can hear the terror in his voice, and that worries me. If Olly’s afraid, it must be bad. So fucking bad…
“Auryn,” Gage snaps. “Give your beta some room.”
