The room was still cooler than I thought it should be, but nursing staff assured me the entire facility was kept at the sametemperature, and it was industry standard. Like freezing their fucking patients was therapeutic.
The storm outside had moved, the thunder no longer directly overhead, though persistent rain still pattered against the windowpanes.
Then there was the unmistakable scent of Lucy—that summery, citrus fragrance that had first drawn me to her against my will, though now it was perverted with harsh cleansing agents and something else…something that smelled wrong.
My eyes opened, adjusting quickly to the dim room. I stifled a groan as I pushed myself up, every inch of my body aching like I’d just eaten pavement after a big jump.
Lucy was still asleep, but not peacefully. Her head was moving left and right slightly, her expression scrunched against what I’m sure was a fuck ton of pain. I went to hit the pain button but stopped myself. I should get a nurse. They’d said Lucy could take over dispensing the morphine when she was alert, until then they’d need to check their charts and consult the doctor. When was the last dose? I glanced up at the clock. It was after three in the morning, but I’d been so knocked out I couldn’t be sure if someone had already come in to treat Lucy while I was sleeping.
I pressed the call button, deciding I’d give staff exactly ten minutes to show the fuck up before I barged out into the hall and demanded help. I stretched slowly, a serious of pops and cracks making me wince, then I turned my attention fully onto Lucy.
My gaze roved over her. She looked so damn small against the twin-sized adjustable bed. Her silver-white hair fanned out against the white pillowcase, looking like moonlight. Her skin seemed more translucent than ever, the network of purple-blue veins beneath so visible that I could trace each one with my fingertips. Her lips, usually curved into a frown as she fought back tears or clamped in a straight line of defiance, were partedslightly, her breathing shallow but regular. The vulnerability of her right now made my chest constrict.
Thunder crashed, loud enough I thought the storm had backtracked, and I watched Lucy’s eyelids flutter but not open. Even unconscious, her body responded to the violence outside. I found myself wondering what storms had been like for her growing up. Her Eros records gave the impression that she’d never really had a normal home life. Had anyone sat with her inside hospitals during bad weather? Had anyone watched over her sleep when she was scared?
I knew even if the answer was, “yes,” that Lucy wouldn’t have been comforted by family. That was something that burned through me each time I thought of it—the visitor logs from different hospitals and then Lucy’s long-term facility, Brightfield. The paperwork from Omega Protection Services. Her parents had another kid whom they prioritized. As Lucy stayed sick, and the years stretched on, their visits grew less frequent. And then those assholes had given her up to the state.
That was worse than what happened to me and my brothers.
My parents died when I was two. Kane’s when he was no more than three. Fallon had lived with his grandmother up until she got cancer, and there was no one else to take him. Asher and Nitro both had druggy moms who lost the right to be parents.
But Lucy’s fucking parents—able bodied, with decent jobs and another kid—chose to abandon her.
They better hope they never crossed my path.
Lightning flashed, momentarily flooding the sterile room with harsh white light. In that instant, Lucy looked otherworldly—hair gleaming, skin luminescent against the drab hospital sheets. For one heartbeat, she wasn't just a wounded Omega in a hospital bed. She was something so fucking precious. Why had the misguided universe inexplicably entrusted this creature to DemonX’s care?
The darkness returned, but the angelic image of Lucy remained, like an afterburn tattooed on my retinas. I wasn’t good with emotions. I was good with action and causing damage. Yet with this Omega, intense feelings clouded everything.
She shifted again, more dramatically this time. Her body tensed, hands fisting, legs bending, forehead wrinkling. She moaned loudly; the sound cut me to my core. I was on my feet in an instant, hands hovering uncertainly over her form, afraid to touch but desperate to help.
"Lucy?" I whispered, my voice cracking.
She didn't respond, but in the next flash of lightning, I noticed the sheen of sweat on her brow. Carefully, I pressed my palm to her forehead. The heat that met my skin sent alarm bells ringing through my mind.Too warm. Definitely too warm.
What had the surgeon said?
The warning echoed in my mind: "Watch for fever—it could indicate infection."
Infection meant complications. Complications meant danger. Danger to Lucy was unacceptable. She’d been through so damn much. They’d pulled a fucking flagpole out of her body, saying it was a miracle it didn’t hit anything vital. When I got this woman home, I’d make sure nothing hurt her again. In the future, my pack would protect Lucy.
I hit the nurse call button again, smashing it down repeatedly and cursing under my breath that no one had responded to the first alert.
Striding to the small, attached bathroom, I flipped the light switch with more force than necessary. The fluorescent light flickered before steadying. I grabbed a washcloth from the rack, soaking it under the cold tap. Water splashed over my hands, but it did nothing to cool the horrific possibilities scorching through my mind. I wrung out the excess water with precise movements, folding the cloth into a neat rectangle.
Before I turned from the sink, I caught sight of myself in the mirror.
I looked haunted. I looked undone. I looked like a different man.
I forced myself to breathe evenly. Lucy needed me calm. Controlled. Effective. She needed me at my best, not at my worst.
When I returned to her bedside, she seemed even more restless, her head moving quickly from side to side as if trying to escape some unseen threat. The sight sent a surge of protectiveness through me so intense it hurt.
"It's okay," I murmured, though I wasn't sure if she could hear me. "I'm right here."
I gently placed the cool cloth against her forehead, using my other hand to brush away strands of damp silver hair. Her skin felt like silk beneath my touch. This close, I could see that her pale eyelashes held the same metallic quality as her hair. I wanted her to part those lashes and show me those extraordinary green eyes of hers—those eyes that had challenged and captivated me from the first moment I'd seen them, even though I’d refused to admit the truth.
"Where's that nurse?" I muttered, glancing toward the door. The call light outside the room was on, but no one had appeared yet. Anger was trying to well up, but I squashed it down. Bringing out the beast to rage against the machine wouldn’t help her.
