Page 8 of Bonded By Tea and Tarot

He steps back with both hands raised, and I take a steadying breath, then shake my head. Chris gives me a look full of concern, but he closes the door and steps around to the front.

The sound of the back door closing rouses her, and I let out a breath of relief I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

She blinks up at me, and I’m frozen in place by the gorgeous blue depths of her eyes. My heart skips a beat, and my chest constricts. It feels like I’m falling, like I no longer orbit around the sun, but the universe itself is reshaping to orbit around her. And then I’m snapped back into reality when her scent spikes with fear, overpowering the coppery tang of blood.

“It’s alright,” I say, reaching out to take her hand in mine, careful not to bump any of the sensors. “You’re in an ambulance. You tripped and knocked yourself out, but your vitals are good.”

She stares at me, eyes wide and confused, her scent so fear-soaked that the bitter spice of it makes my nose itch. Her heart rate is high, and her breathing shallow. She’s on the verge of panic.

“You’re okay.” I try to keep my voice steady and calm, low and soothing, and her eyes latch onto mine. I nod slowly and gently squeeze her hand. “Take a deep breath for me. In slow… And out.”

She follows my direction, and I take a few deep breaths with her until most of the tension leaks from her body.

“Good girl,” I murmur.

Her heart rate immediately spikes, but before I can say anything else, it settles again, more slow and steady than it has been yet. Siobhan’s eyes widen as she glances at the monitor screen and then stares at me, her lips popping open in surprise.

“Good to know, little omega,” I say, offering her a smile while satisfaction thrums through me.

At that, her earthy perfume swirls into the air around us. It’s no longer steeped in fear. No, now it’s mouth-watering clove and cardamom, sweet and warm with a barely-there spicy undertone. I swallow hard and force myself to stay seated, not to invade her space or lean forward to suck in more of that delectable scent.

My purr kicks up in my chest, and her heart rate and breathing settle into a steady, resting range. I swallow hard, clenching every ounce of control I have around my alpha instincts to scoop her up and protect her. That isn’t what she needs right now, but it’s what my alpha desperately wants.

It takes all the willpower I have to talk her calmly through what happened and what comes next as we drive to the hospital. Her heart rate bumps up again when we unload her and walk into triage. Chris rattles off her information, but I’m barely listening, all of my focus on the omega in front of me. Being taken from me. She swallows a whine as the stretcher is pulled away and she’s assigned to a trauma room, but I still catch the barest hint of it. I’m more tuned into everything about her than I have been for any other patient, but I cannot act on this right now.

I clench my hand on the door, holding myself back. Forcing my feet not to leap after her. I can’t. We only just met, and I wouldn’t be allowed to stay with her anyway.

Plus, I’m still on call.

Never before have I detested that this job requires me to wear scent dampeners, but today that fact makes me furious. She might not know it yet, but I just found my scent-match, and I’m not about to let her slip through my fingers.

Chapter Seven

Siobhan

Devastation tears through me. A sense of loss so powerful at being pulled away from the steady, handsome alpha that it’s all I can do to keep breathing. Why couldn’t I catch their scent? Who were they? Why does it feel like I know them? My omega was pulled to them for some inexplicable reason, and being separated now feels wrong, wrong, wrong.

I try to focus on the nurse’s words, listening as they rattle off numbers and instructions, but it’s difficult to concentrate. They wheel my stretcher into a horrifyingly bright white room, and I squint when it sends shooting pains through my head. It sets my omega off even more, and this time I can’t keep the whine at bay.

One of the male nurses peels my eyelids up and flashes a bright light in my eyes, and I cringe away from both him and the harsh light. Another asks me a series of questions that I do my best to answer, but my words feel jumbled.

Next thing I know, I’m hunching over the side of the bed and emptying my stomach.

“Concussion, grade 3. Vomiting, confusion, headache, slurred speech, anisocoria. Possible broken wrist. Prep CT and X-rays.”

More words and phrases that I don’t understand float around me, and my eyes drift closed.

“Stay with me, honey,” a different nurse says, gently tapping my uninjured forearm.

I force my eyes back open, wincing at the light again, and finally, after more questions and X-rays and more tests that I don’t remember the name of, they all leave except for one.

The kind one who patted my arm earlier.

I look at her and tears build in my eyes. She offers a gentle smile and takes my hand in hers. It’s not the hand I want though. Aury and the paramedic’s faces flash in my mind, and I sniffle, wishing they were both here. Or at least one of them.

“You’re going to be okay. You’ve got a pretty bad concussion, but it’s nothing a bit of rest won’t fix. You’ve also sprained your wrist, so we’ll splint it for you. No breaks or fractures though, so you’ll be feeling better in no time.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling as small as I sound. “Thank you.”