Machines whir and beep, and I glance around. My clothes are strewn on the floor, and panic hits me when I realize I’m in nothing but a damn dressing gown.
I scramble backwards, nearly falling off the table as Olly groans. “What the—”
His eyes widen, and he nearly knocks his chair over as he stands, lunging forth to catch me before I fall off the damn table.
“Easy, easy…” he says. “You’ve got an IV in your left arm and—”
“Then fucking take it out!” I yell. Olly narrows his eyebrows at me and sternly says, “Lie down. Stay still, and I will.”
Well, shit…looks like someone grew some balls while I was gone.
Interesting.
I want to argue with him, but…I also feel the strangest, deepest desire tolisten.To do as he says, and maybe he’ll be happy with me or some shit. His rain and forest scent hits me like a fog, making my mouth water. God, he shouldn’t smell this fucking good to me.
I know that on some imperceptible level. I know it has to do with whatever those assholes did to me. They didn’t take my knot first. First, they tranqued me and shot me up with some weird chemical that made me practically soaked to the core. With sweat and precum.
I try to push the memories aside. They’re all hazy, but I remember the omegas they pushed in my cell. The ones I fought off. The ones who clawed at me, begging me to knot them.
The puddle of cum left on the floor after I knotted my fist because the pain of being so full without my omega to knot was too much. I hated that I had to do it. Hated that they watched me do it.
Then they grabbed me, shot me with those damn tranqs, and took my fucking knot from me like candy from a baby, and now…
I shake as I brace for the pain, but there is none. There is no pain where pain should be, and I suck in a breath.
“I’m taking it out,” Olly says smoothly. “Eyes on me, Em.”
I look up at him. I keep my gaze trained on him as he slowly slides the cannula from my arm. My cock twitches, and I grimace. There’s the pain.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice warm. Not cold as it usually is.
“Like shit,” I say, my voice hoarse.
Olly presses a cotton ball against the crook of my elbow, bandaging me up so fast I barely notice.
“Well, you look like shit, so I suppose that’s fair,” he says.
I laugh. It starts small but builds like a crescendo.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, leaning back, crossing his arms. Tears come without warning as I laugh hysterically.
“Oh fuck, Olly. I missed you, you fucking asshole.” Laughs turn to sobs, and before I know it, Olly wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his chest.
Olivander Montgomery ishuggingme.
Suddenly the sobs take over, and I can’t breathe. I bury my face against his chest as he holds me tight.
“It’s okay,” he says, running his hands up and down my bare back. I have the strangest desire to bury my face in his neck, and it’s hard to fight, so I don’t. I breathe in his scent, and it calms me just a fraction. It’s not the scent of death and cum or blood and shit. It’s the smell ofOlly.Ofhome.
“No, it’s not okay,” I say through a choked sob. “I’m not okay.”
Olly holds me away from him, capturing my gaze with his.
“You're alive, Em. You are okay.”
When he looks at me, I can see the sympathy. The pity.
I’m naked underneath this sheet. The reality hits me like a brick, and I grab myself through the sheet, noting I don’t feel gauze or bandages, but…exposed, soft flesh.
