“Bond sickness,” I whisper.
I’m coming down from an intense adrenaline dump, and now I’m struggling not to cry. My nervous system is really mad at me at the moment.
“Shit,” Dr. Royal says, grabbing the tissue box on the end of his desk as the first tear falls.
“I thought he was dead!” I sob, shaking my head. “I went to the funeral, almost shot his fucking brother, and found a soul match. My body just…turned against me.”
I take a few sheets of tissue, shrugging helplessly. I don’t even know why I’m telling him all of this. It feels as if I need to purge, and he’s the only other person who knows Lore is alive.
God, he saved his damn life.
“He walked into the house during my heat, and I honestly don’t know if I would have survived it if he hadn’t,” I say, shaking my head. “I was burning up from the inside out, and nothing helped. Every cell in my body was screaming for the one alpha I couldn’t have.”
“Marie,” Dr. Royal gasps. “We told him he should go home, but none of us had any idea how bad it was. You didn’t come back to work, and I didn’t know when the funeral was.”
“That funeral wasn’t something you’d have wanted to go to,” I reassure him, blowing my nose.
I still can’t stop crying, and I sniffle as I think about how crazy that day was.
“I drank a lot, couldn’t eat, and also couldn’t stop throwing up during those weeks,” I explain. “It was awful. When I was in the bathroom, I saw a razor blade, and the thought passed my mind to join him. Except, I was only in the bathroom to pee on a goddamned stick. That’s fucking irony for you, huh?”
Dr. Royal gets up, taking the tissue box with him before sitting beside me.
“Call me Adrain. Dr. Royal doesn’t work for me right now.”
I nod, pulling more tissues from the box in his hands.
“I’m not pregnant,” I say, deciding I should mention that.
“Okay,” he says softly, waiting me out.
“I have to be in the same building as Lore at all times, or the bond sickness comes back worse than ever,” I add. “It felt as if my heart was being torn out of me. I couldn’t help but crumple to the ground.”
“He was outside on the phone. He had an unlit cigarette in his hand,” Adrain explains. “Lore really should quit.”
“Hmm.”
What else can I say? I don’t like it when he smokes, and he knows that, but the larger issue goes beyond that. He should be able up be farther from me, but the omega inside of me isn’t fucking having it. Shit.
“I ruined his life,” I whisper, dropping my head back on the wall with a thump.
“You did no such thing. Stop hurting yourself, Marie, Jesus,” he mutters, pinning my head to the wall for a minute with the flat of his hand. I can feel a grumble from my bond, which relaxes once Adrain removes his hand. “Lore was dead on that table. He says he insisted on coming to this hospital on the chance that he’d see you. That alpha loves you, and I think a small part of him is loving this.”
My lips twitch at the idea that Lore is enjoying my “attachment issues.” If I was willing to look into the psychological side of my bond, I’d say I have a fairly good idea as to why my inner omega is having bond sickness. I have a hard time connecting with people because of my issues with my mother and brother, so it makes sense that my body is doing this in a way.
“A whiny omega who can’t be separated from him is someone stroking his ego?” I ask, snorting.
“You’re anything but whiny, even when you’re dragging ass at the end of a shift,” Adrain says, rolling his eyes as he also drops his head on the wall with a thunk.
Sure, it’s fine for him, but God forbid I hurt myself. Damn alphas and their protective instincts.
I can feel amusement and concern coming from Lore, but I wave it away in my mind.
I’m totally fine, dammit!
“Breathe, Marie,” Adrain growls.
Sucking in a breath as I realize I did in fact stop breathing, I glare balefully at the ceiling.
