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He still wasn’t listening. Wetness slid down her cheek, but she was already turning away, reaching for the infinite gray to envelope her.
“I fucked up, Devin.”
Desperation made his eyes gleam in the uncertain light, blackened wells that filled with emotion. For once, he didn’t withdraw them before she could discern their meaning. He offered an unfettered view of all that he felt. Spurred on by the way she focused on him, Rey cupped her cheeks.
“I fucked up, and I want to fix it. I’ll do anything, just tell me how to fix it.”
Devin’s eyebrows bounced once, her faint attempt at humor lost on Rey as he curled around her with frantic touches to her face. Worried she was pulling away again, terrified she wouldn’t come back this time. She didn’t need the bond to tell her that and more.
He showed it to her. Baring it all.
“This,” Devin whispered. “More.”
“I love you. I would burn the whole fucking world down for you.”
Nose wrinkling, her fingers found the edge of his jaw. Tracing the coarse hair that covered it. She hadn’t noticed he hadn’t been shaving, but there lay the proof. Devin thought she might like it.
“Say that you understand, sweetheart. Tell me you love—”
“Quiet.” Devin sighed as she made the monumental effort to curl her fingers around his neck, tugging him in agonizing fits that left her breathless and covered in a fine sheen of cold sweat.
Rey must have gotten the hint, because he curled around her body, tucking her close to his heat though there was an awkward moment of figuring out the IV drip. Surrounded by his body, she caught the faint scent of rich darkness. A hint of something spicy teased at her senses, but it was soft enough to ignore for now.
Closing her eyes, Devin found true sleep.
* * *
She’d slept for what felt like forever, waking to a whole new realm. No longer bleak, the gray haze roiled at the edges of her perception. Waiting, watching, its greedy maw at the ready to devour her. Still, she’d woken warm, a strange sense of contentment pervading her as she found Rey tangled all around her. Scent heady and thick, it coated the back of her throat with vicious promises and whispered curses.
Now she was awake, wanted to be rid of the bed and the nothingness that had held her prisoner.
Whether a final decision not to die in such a horrible way or from Rey’s moment of bald openness, Devin rose when her dreams gave her up. Well, demanded to be taken to the bathroom. His shock palpable, Rey had helped her to her feet. Remained at her side despite all of her snarling for her to hold on to as she tried to make her way the few feet from the bed.
“Stop clucking,” Devin hissed, though she maintained her white knuckled grip on Rey’s arm as he led her to the bathroom. She squinted at the glare spilling from the open door and panted as she shuffled forward another meager step. This was taking her forever, and she needed to pee.
“Carry,” Devin ground out the single word demand, going limp the moment Rey’s arms swept her up. She grumbled the entire time he hovered over her, though he had to prop her up at the sink to wash her hands once she’d finished.
The bath already waited for her. Despite wanting a moment alone, she knew she couldn’t insist. Not when she was so weak her head lolled on the loose column of her neck. Settling into the crackling bubbles with Rey at her back keeping her afloat, Devin breathed a sigh of true relief.
Now she had to figure out what the ever-loving hell she was doing.
The bond lay dead and silent, a greasy pile of ash within her chest. She’d destroyed it with complete abandon, and she wasn’t certain how to feel about that. Even more confusing was the fact neither of them was dead. No Omega survived the loss of the bond. Everyone knew that.
Yet here Devin was, slapping Rey’s hand away and snatching the washcloth from him to scrub away the sick sweat. She gave up almost as soon as she began when she started panting with the effort.
“You need to take it easy, sweetheart,” Rey murmured as he bathed her shoulders.
“Don’t… tell me… what to… do…”
“Yes, I will. You’ve been nearly comatose for over a month, Devin.” A low growl edged his words, though the movements of the washcloth remained smooth, gentle. “I’ll admit I was wrong, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you hurt yourself.”
“A… month?”
“Almost two,” Beau said as he breezed in, presenting a cascade of bright yellow tulips with a flourish.
“What the fuck are those?”
“Flowers, Rey. For our convalescing invalid.”
