“What room are you in?” Cross asks.
“Medium security wing, on an outside wall. Just like we planned,” I reply quickly.
“Good boy.”
My cock jumps in my newly-issued grey joggers when Bones purrs his praise, and I have to resist the temptation to stroke one out. Might help with the focusing now that I think on it.
But, unfortunately, I’m interrupted by a harsh knock on the door. I manage to sit up and adjust myself before the door swings open, revealing one of the betas who helped me “settle in”.
“It’s lunch time, Thaddeus,” she says, far too chipper for my tastes.
I growl low enough to rival any alpha, and the beta nurse pulls back with a start. My cock twitches again, a sick pleasure bubbling up from her display of fear. Something I’m sure the quacks in this place would piss themselves over if I shared those thoughts.
“Mr. King will do just fine between us, sweetheart. Unless you prefer to call me Thaddy Daddy?”
Cross chuckles in my ear, and I grin wickedly as the nurse flushes bright pink.
“M-Mr. King. Let’s not make this stay difficult for you, okay? We’re here to help you get better,” she goes on.
Well at least she’s got better bedside manner than Dickhead Drake. I get to my feet with a groan, approaching the door. The nurse doesn’t move, which suits me just fine. I lean down into her space, close enough where I can smell her soft, pineapple beta scent.
“There’s a good girl. I think we’ll get along just fine, luv.”
Bones growls in my ear, making it hard to keep a straight face as the beta nurse looks up at me, turning a rather impressive shade of pink. She clears her throat and backs away at last, holding the door for me to exit behind her. I chuckle low in my throat, smirking as I follow her down the hall.
“Remember why you’re there.”
My alpha’s voice is stern, but I can hear the undercurrent of jealousy beneath his words. Though I don’t know why he’s surprised anymore. I’d flirt with a street sign given half a chance. Doubly so if it would irritate him.
A short walk later and we arrive in a cafeteria, plastic tables and chairs scattered throughout the space as nurses and aides deliver trays to the other patients. A quick scan of the room, and I have to fight the curl of my upper lip. There are more “patients”—God I hate using that term for these poor creatures—here than I would have expected. Maybe thirty or forty, but only a fraction of them appear to be remotely aware of their surroundings. Most of them are zombies for a lack of a better word. Spaced out, staring at nothing, mechanically moving a sporkfrom their tray to their mouth under the encouragement of the staff. It turns my stomach, and I almost spin on my heel to leave, until I spot her.
The wisp is partially slumped in a wheelchair, her thin shoulders rising and falling steadily even as her eyes stay closed. The nurse behind her leaves to get a tray, not that she notices. Rage replaces disgust, and I have to swallow my growl. What did this place do to her? And why do I suddenly give a fuck?
“Right this way, Mr.—”
Ignoring the nurse, I stride over to the wisp’s table, throwing myself in a chair with a contented sigh.
“Told you I’d be seeing you again, luv,” I quip, nudging her knee with mine.
The wisp looks up, her doe-shaped eyes regarding me with shifting awareness, like she’s here and then she’s gone somewhere in her head.
“Who are you talking to?” Bones asks, and I swear I pick up a note of genuine curiosity in his words.
I ignore him as I maintain eye contact with the wisp. I’ve seen these eyes before. Not her specific eyes, but ones just like them. Drugged out but not fighting it. Like the horrors in her mind are worse than drifting through time and space like a phantom.
“Delilah, I’ve got your—oh, goodness! Mr. King!”
The wisp’s—Delilah’s—nurse reappears with a tray, but I keep my attention on the omega in front of me.
“You’re not gonna make me eat lunch on my own, are you, luv?” I ask, gentle but teasing.
“Joker—”
I itch at my ear, turning off my comms for the moment. A heartbeat passes as Delilah sways in her wheelchair, and I reach out to grab her shoulder before she slumps over. My touch startles her, her little inhale sounding more like a gasp for air after being underwater. Her steel-grey eyes focus more on my face now. I give her a gentle smile, like I would to a wounded, frightened animal.
“Mr. King, you really should eat over here, please.”
My beta nurse tries to pull my attention away, but I roll my eyes.
