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Standing, I clap a hand on Denvil’s shoulder, shake him a bit, and say, “Don’t fucking call me that,” before turning and pulling him into a hug.

Chapter 39 - Mylah

When I blink my eyes open, it’s with the impression that this is not the first time.

My belly is full. I smack my lips and find I’m not terribly thirsty. Like I’ve been waking, eating, drinking. A doctor has been in and out. She told me that I passed out from exhaustion and over-excitement, had a slight concussion, and needed to rest.

So I’ve been resting.

During that time, I remember conversations. People coming to see me. Aurora at my bedside.

Was…Augustus here? Talking to me? No, that can’t be right. There’s a ghost in my head of him, being here, but when I try to focus on the memory, it flits away. It feels vaguely happy, though. Almost like he was holding my hand.

Almost like he was kissing my forehead.

That must have been a dream.

This is the first time, upon waking, that my brain doesn’t feel like a pile of mush. I can actually start to think clearly, blinking away the sleep and sitting up.

And the moment I do, stretching my arms up and over my head, three women—two betas and an omega—appear at the side of the bed, strange, eager smiles on their faces.

“Come on,” the older beta says, reaching out her weathered hand to me. “We need to get you in the bath.”

In all my time of being here, I’ve never had assistance in the bath. But maybe someone is worried that I’m going to slip and hurt myself again. Still half-asleep, I allow the three women to usher me out of the bed and into the bathroom.

The tub is already full, floating with dried flowers and oils. I stop and stare at it for a moment, then turn back to the women, thinking I should ask about this.

What’s with all the special treatment?

But they’re already pulling at my nightgown, stripping it up over my head. When they do, I smell myself and it makes me grimace—maybe I shouldn’t complain about a bath with some nice scents.

I lower myself down into the water and they busy themselves. One brushes out my hair, shampooing and rinsing.

“I’m going to do a deep conditioning treatment,” she explains, massaging her fingers into my scalp. It’s so pleasurable that she could apply a cement treatment, and I wouldn’t care.

“Mhm,” I respond, because I can’t offer up much more than that.

While the deep conditioning treatment sits in my hair, the omega changes spots with her and gives me what I can only assume is a facial, using a steam wand and applying a thick mud mask to my skin. It tingles pleasantly.

The bath is long and luxurious.

When I’m rinsed off and the tub is draining out, they surround me with soft, fluffy towels. I’m given a simple white lace bra and matching silky underwear to slide on under my robe, which is also impossibly comfortable.

It actually makes me laugh—maybe I died. Maybe Gavyn actually killed me, and this is my version of heaven. Just being taken care of.

When we walk back into the bedroom, I half expect them to leave, but they just start unpacking materials and supplies from their little chests. The older beta sits me down in front of the vanity, and I stare at myself in the mirror.

You would think, after such a traumatic experience, that I would look like crap

But I don’t. Maybe it’s all the sleep, or maybe the glow of pregnancy, but my cheeks are rosy. My eyes are bright. Now, smelling nice, I might actually be presentable in public.

Eyes shifting away from myself and to the rest of the room, I realize that I’m not in my own quarters.

I am back in Augustus’s room.

My mind flashes with the memories of everything we did in this room. Him, jokingly feeding me grapes. His hands on me. Our bodies as close as they could possibly be.

Quickly, I jerk my eyes away from the bed. So, this is where I’ve been since being brought back. My final memory was of a gun going off. Thinking it was Gavyn, shooting Augustus.