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“Sorry, Doc. I don’t think so. Idril’s been through enough trauma today. The only person around to scent her is me. I’m not letting you inject her with something else meant to fuck with her instincts.”
Lenora sighs. “She has to be on a suppressant. She’s been on them since she was Designated. We can’t just cut her off. If I were you, I’d be more concerned about when she weans off of them.”
My whole body jerks in shock.
“Explain.”
Lenora’s lips purse, like this is something I should already understand. “Idril’s father kept her on military-grade suppressants since age thirteen. She’s never gone through a heat. Cutting her off without weaning her will result in a long, painful heat. The kind you alone could never satisfy. It would be impossible to accommodate her needs while keeping you both fed, rested, and properly hydrated. It would be, in a word, disastrous.”
She’s been on suppressants since she Designated?
That’s… fuck… nine years. Nine years denied access to her own body. What kind of monster pumps his own child full of unnecessary medication like that for years?
It’s… It’s barbaric. A level of abuse I never imagined could be possible.
My stomach churns, lurching with nausea, and I’m forced to count my breaths to keep from passing out as she goes on, shredding my heart in the process.
“With her recent decline in health—both physically and mentally—I can’t fathom a future where she avoids a lifetime of heat-related trauma and anxiety. The mental implications alone—”
“Alright,” I interrupt. “You said we can wean her off. So… as long as we do that, then her heat will be normal, right?”
No fucking way is this Doctor getting near her until I have all the information. Idril is mine, now. And until she’s able to consent on her own, I’ll be damned if I’m going to make an uninformed decision on her behalf.
Lenora exhales like she’s considering that I’ve been placed on this Earth specifically to annoy the shit out of her.
“Even tapering won’t be enough to guarantee a ‘normal’ heat. It will give her time to prepare, but there are side effects to ending prolonged suppressant use. More heat spikes, for example. And listen… no matter how slowly we taper her, her first heat will still be intense.”
She raises a brow along with the syringe.
I rack my brain for more questions but can’t think of any, and grudgingly take a step to the side. She kneels beside the bench and pulls out an alcohol swab. After rolling up Idril’s sleeve, she cleans a spot on her upper arm that’s littered with fading bruises. My Beast lunges forward with a snarl, and it takes effort to force both of us to calm down so I can pay attention as Lenora speaks.
“Think of it like this.” She uncaps the needle and plunges it into Idril’s arm.
Idril doesn’t so much as flinch.
I do.
“She’s twenty-two. She should have experienced three to five heats by now. Those heats don’t simply fade away. They stack up. Imagine each missed heat as a domino, stacked in a line, just waiting for that one little push to send them falling.”
She stands, recaps the syringe, and unwinds her stethoscope, placing the metal against Idril’s chest. My mouth opens, but she lifts a finger, and I stay silent. Honestly, I’m just happy to see her performing a far overdue checkup.
“Well?” I push when she’s finished, anxious for answers.
The Beta scrawls something on her clipboard before tucking it back under her arm and giving me her full attention.
“She’s malnourished. She came here like that, so the Bastards aren’t at fault. However, I will admit their efforts to keep her fed have been less than desirable, something I fully intend to discuss with them.”
I scoff. That much is fucking obvious. They’ve clearly been neglecting her care—prisoner or not.
“The truth,” I demand, because I have fucking eyes. Idril’s a wreck. Her limbs have been spasming, the circles under her eyes are so dark they’re nearly black, her breathing is shallow, and in the last hour, she’s started to sweat like she’s burning through a fever, despite her skin remaining cold as ice.
Before she can answer, the door creaks open at the top of the stairs. And a moment later, to my eternal irritation, Daxen fucking Montclair rounds the corner.
I’ve never wanted to punch someone so bad in my life.
Fucking wonderful.
Chapter 9
