“Are you—are you doing okay, Rowan?” I ask, peering over Rage’s broad shoulder to the other bed.
“Mhmm,” Rowan says, his eyes blinking back open. “Just—just a little tired, Sugar.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Like a bitch. But the others will be back with help. I’ll be fine.”
He’s lying. He doesn’t know whether he’ll be fine. His anxiety is seeping through the bond like my blood was seeping past my fingers earlier.
But when he reaches over and grabs the TV remote and starts flicking through channels, probably to try and distract me, I choose to offer him a reassuring smile.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I say. “Just hang on until Griffin and Ash get back,” I say.
He has to be fine. The world wouldn’t be cruel enough to give us everything we’ve ever wanted and then take him away from me.
“How’re you feeling, big guy?” I ask, reaching up to squeeze Rage’s shoulder with my good arm. “Things got pretty intense back there, didn’t they.”
A low growl leaves his chest, and his lips curl back in a snarl at my mention of what happened earlier.
“Thank you for saving me,” I murmur.
He offers me a single nod before leaning in and brushing his lips against my forehead.
I sink into the touch, my eyes fluttering shut.
The physical contact eases my frayed nerves. I know it’s silly, and probably only in my head, but the simple touch seems to ease the sting of my shoulder.
I start to doze off in Rage’s arms from the stress of the night, my eyes fluttering shut to the background of the TV.
I wake to the sound of keys jiggling in the lock.
Rage lets out a low growl, his eyes locked on the door, all his muscles tensing up like he’s ready to toss me onto the bed and defend us from any attack.
“It’s us,” Ash says as the door swings open.
My shoulders deflate in relief at the familiar sight.
“Sorry it took us so long, Shortcake, we just had to get rid of Jett’s fuck ass car,” he says.
“Hey, Sweetheart,” Griffin says, setting down a pile of what look to be clothes and shoes down on the armchair in the corner of the room.
“Did you find help for Rowan?” I ask, perking up.
They pause, glancing at each other.
“What?” Panic makes my heart flutter.
“We did. She’s outside, actually. But we wanted to check with you. She’s an omega. That okay with you?”
I blink, tilting my head. They’re acting like they think I’m going to yell at them.
“An omega?”
“Yeah. She’s older. Has three kids. But she’s unbonded. I know omegas can get... territorial sometimes. Just wanted to make sure that was okay with you.”
“Is she nice?”
“I mean, I never spent enough time with her to really get to know her, but she’s not mean, if that’s what you’re asking,” Griffin says, his brows drawing down in confusion.
