Silas laughs again, knowing my question is directed at him. "Maybe lay off the gifts. The poor guy looked so uncomfortable. Just sit and talk to him instead of staring and showering him with presents."
"Okay, I can do that," I murmur, making a mental note to do exactly that. Glancing at Jarek, I fucking blush when I see the small grin on his face. "Yeah, I get it. He's mine too. Back to Vivian, though. What does this have to do with her?"
"In case Silas didn't get it, he's Riot's too. You've noticed how invested you are in making sure he feels welcome?" Jarek pushes Silas to accept his fate.
Silas doesn't hesitate. "Yep. I wondered when you were so clearly protective of him when we rescued them."
"Wonderful," Jarek hoots and claps. "I think what will help our butterfly is completing her bond with him. Right now they're in this weird limbo where she can feel him, but there's the issue of her PTSD and insecurities making her hold on to specific things harder."
Am I dumb or did that make no fucking sense?"What the hell does that mean?"
Jarek rolls his eyes and strides across the room to sit in a chair beside Silas. "He's hungry, so he eats. By the time we get Vivian some food, Riot's already full, so her hunger cue disappears when his does. She's awake at the same time as him every single night. He can't sleep, so she can't. His anger is sharp and heavy in the bond, pulling her mood into his. By the time she has it under control, she's mentally drained and zoning out again."
"She's matching him as a safety mechanism..." I murmur. "Has a trauma bond ever mixed with a true fated mate bond? It would make sense that their natural connection is warped because of their captivity."
"Like some kind of codependency?" Silas asks, adding a new term to this already wild scenario.
Jarek and I nod and at the same time we come to the conclusion of what our next step needs to be. "We need to talk to Riot."
Twenty
Riot
Ibarely register the sound from the stairwell, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Protein powder forgotten, I ditch my stuff in the basement kitchenette and tiptoe over to the stairs.
Before I even register what's happening, Vivian is flying down the stairs at me and crashing into my arms. "Fuck, Firefly!" I grunt, wrapping her in my arms and trying not to fall back on my ass. The pain in my shoulder flares up, but it's not enough to pull me away from her.
Dread pools in my gut when a back-cracking sob explodes out of her. Wetness drenches my shoulder forcing me to acknowledge that my omega is crying on me.
"Hey, hey, hey," I whisper-croak because now I'm fucking terrified. Cradling the back of her head in my hand, I steel my spine to be her savior. "What happened?"
More cries and whimpers of sorrow drown out any explanation I might receive. I know I need to hold my shit together and make sure she's comfortable, but I also need to know if she's hurt. Or if someone else is hurt.
Thinking fast, I lift her by her ass and breathe a sigh of relief when her legs wrap around me. Rushing to my bedroom, I kickthe door shut behind me and peel her arms and legs off to set her on the bed. She fights to keep hold of me, and it goes against my nature as an alpha, but I pry her off me.
"Vivian." Crouching in front of her, I place my hands on her knees and squeeze. My first glance at her face makes me want to go on a fucking killing spree. My omega's eyes are bloodshot and dripping with tears. The bags under her lashes look even more pronounced, and her shoulders are trembling so damn hard I'm worried she's going to hurt herself.
"Remember when we were escaping and I needed you to be strong for just a little longer? I'm going to need you to do that again, little Omega."
Kade's voice growls in my mind, a reminder not to push her into speaking or anything else she doesn't want to do, but I'm fucking over it. She's mine too, and right now I need her to use her damn words so I know if I need to find a gun and hide her in the bathroom.
"Right now, Firefly. Tell me who hurt you before I completely lose my shit and find a weapon."Oops. I didn't mean to get that aggressive, but what the hell else am I supposed to do when she's sobbing like someone died?
Vivian sputters and wipes her cheeks with rapid movements. "They—they said they can't handle me."
My forehead throbs with the force of my frown. "Who said this? Your mates?"
"Y-Yes. They said, fuck—" She chokes and covers her face with her shaky hands.
Is this anxiety choking her up and pausing her words or is it her sadness? Either way, she's doing a fantastic job, and I'll cheer her on no matter what. "You got this, Vivian. Just breathe through the tension, okay? I'm here with you and we're safe in my bedroom."
"They said..." She sniffles and sighs with her head flung back as if she's trying to make her tears stop. "Ugh. They said I h-have PTSD, some sort of food disorder, insomnia, and mood s-swings. They're—they're diagnosing me!"
Shit. The hurt and rage that slams into my chest just from our small connection shocks me. There's a story here, but I write off getting it right now when I see her gulp and her hand clutch her throat like she's losing it again.
"I'm sure there's more to this story, but for now?—"
Vivian glares daggers at me and flashes her canines. "They promised! S-Said they would never label me!"
