“Stay right there,” I murmured, kneeling again, so I was in his line of sight.
Kasey blinked once, slow and unfocused, but he didn’t move. He stayed exactly where he was, body locked in that too still posture that told me he wasn’t fully here.
Moore reached for the blanket I’d set aside earlier and draped it over Kasey’s shoulders with careful, deliberate hands. The fabric settled around him without so much of a flinch. Then the doctor eased one of Kasey’s arms free, supporting it gently as he wrapped a blue tourniquet around his upper arm.
“Just drawing a sample,” Moore murmured, more for Kasey’s sake than mine. “Nothing that will hurt.”
Kasey didn’t react. not to the pressure of the band, not to the shift in his arm, not to the soft click of Moore preparing the needle. He stayed quiet and small beneath the blanket, as if the world had narrowed to a single point far beyond our reach.
When the needle poked Kasey’s skin, the Omega jerked, a cry stuck in his throat. Then, tears fell, trickling down his nose and into the pillow.
Moore paused, lifting an eye to me before turning back to his task.
“Hey, sweetheart. It’s alright. Just breathe. Can you do that for me?” I soothed him, not once taking my hand off his head, letting my fingers run through his soft locks.
Kasey shook his head, then just as quickly stopped moving. He held his breath, as though he expected pain. He expected to be lashed at for doing something he hadn’t even done.
“Almost finished, dear one,” Moore whispered. “Then you can rest.”
At those words, Kasey blinked and took a deep breath in. Only for a sob to burst forth as his hips humped against the mattress, seeking what the drugs demanded from him.
“There, all done.” Thankfully, Moore ignored the fact that the Omega needed a release and put a bandied over where he drew blood. Turning to me, “I can’t tell you what you want to do, but I can tell you this – this boy won’t dare do anything without permission. Set ground rules early on and keep those rules in place until he finds his footing. Don’t offer him a way out until he’s fully aware of where he is, and who you are to him.”
I went to open my mouth to reply, but Moore raised a hand to stop me. “I don’t care what your relationship plans to be with him. I don’t need to know. Just…tread carefully. He’s been programed to know your needs and wants, and it won’t take long for him to serve you well. But you don’t strike me as the type of Alpha who wants a hole to play with. You want a partner, a companion. It’ll be easier for him to have that sort of structure ahead of time. It’ll be less head games he’ll play himself while he figures out what you’re wanting of him.”
Chapter 13
Kasey
I surfaced slowly, like my mind was trying to swim through thick syrup. Every part of me felt heavy and overheated, my skin was too tight, my heartbeat was too loud in my ears. The aftereffects always came in waves. First, the exhaustion, then the ache, then the hallow buzzing, emptiness that made it hard to tell where my body ended and where the world began.
Sometimes, like right now, the nausea came out of the blue, hitting me with a force that made my breath catch.
I blinked against the dim light, vision blurring before it settled. A ceiling I didn’t recognize stared back at me.
I tried to breathe through the panic that bubbled up, my chest tight. My thoughts scattered, slipping away before I could grab them. I remembered…something. The kitchen. A voice. A blanket. Hands that weren’t hurting me.
But that didn’t make any sense.
Lockswell didn’t have blankets that felt comfortable. They didn’t have soft voices.
My breath hitched, sharp and painful. The room tilted and my fingers curled into something soft that was in my hold. A quick look down showed a stuffed animal I didn’t remember having before…everything.
Then, the nausea rolled up further, giving no warning. I barely had time to turn to my side before I gagged, coughing and spluttering what little was in my system.
A trash can was magically there, too quick for me to figure outhowthat can was there, just thankfully that I wouldn’t be making a mess on the floor or bed.
Sagging against the bed, letting the softness soothe the frazzled feelings, my eyes slipped closed. I told myself it’d only be for a moment. Just a single moment with the soft stuffed animal pulled to my chest.
Just a moment…then I’d wake up. Then I’d do…whatever was on the schedule. Which would be to serve another client? Which would entail more pills that I didn’t want. Which would cause more pain and more rolling nausea.
I was so tired.
Tired of being told, I had to serve. Tired of having to be perfect. Just…tired of living.
Why couldn’t my body just give up already? Why did it keep me waking up and having to repeat the same thoughts, the same actions, nearly every single day?
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Just rest.” With the voice came the softest touch to my hair line. It was so nice, being touched with care, like I could break.
