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“The medics,” Merlin’s voice says, followed by the banging of feet against trash. They bang closer to me and I hate them, too.
“Merlin, you bitch,” I shriek again. “Did you make a deal with the Berserker?” Rage clubs Pain in the head, knocking her out of the way for the moment. I thrash wildly against the mattress, fury unraveling me to my essence.
The Berserker holds me down by the shoulders and I fight as hard as I can against him, hard enough I feel bruises light up under his palms. A young woman and a slightly older Beta man crouch down on the side of the mattress opposite the Berserker. The man takes the lead, touching my face, my neck. His fingers come back bloody.
“Don’t do that,” he says to the Berserker.
The Berserker’s got his mouth open and four ivory white fangs poised towards me. Like he’s gonna bite me again. I’m dying — why the hell wouldn’t he? Get one nice little snack in before I don’t have anything left? He growls low and deep in his throat. His eyes darken before settling back to gold.
The man doctor gestures to my throat and makes a disgusted face that I don’t entirely expect or want to see from the dude who’s supposed to be saving my life. “She won’t survive another bite, if you want her to survive, anyway. If not, then you should tell us now so we don’t waste all these meds. She’s going to entirely deplete our supply.”
His words are morose, but his hands are still helping the woman doctor prepare several vials filled with clear liquid. He hooks an IV bag onto the trash wall behind me. An IV bag. I haven’t seen one of those in years. How the heck do they have one in Trash City?
“Angel, do you wanna start making space?”
“I would, but he’s hovering.”
“Alpha, would you stop hovering?” the man doctor says.
“Berserker,” the Berserker corrects.
“Berserker, would you stop hovering?”
The Berserker continues to glare at the medics while I continue to rage against his grip. I kick my feet harder and wonder if there are any important arteries in your feet worth breaking or if I’m just inviting Pain back. How I’ve missed her in these precious seconds.
“My venom will heal her,” he says, voice full of authority and, if I’m not entirely mistaken, just ahintof uncertainty.
The man doctor’s lips flubber as he laughs a dry, throaty laugh. He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.Ifthat was your goal before, it makes you marginally more sympathetic, but only marginally. The blood on her neck is still wet. If that’s from your bite, then it did not heal well. Not in the slightest.”
He whistles as he flicks a syringe. I’m slowing down. My lips are so dry. I try to look anywhere but at the Berserker looming above me, staring at the doctor with narrowed, bloodthirsty eyes.
“Not possible,” the Berserker says, irritating the shit out of me because not only does he speak in an incomprehensible accent, he also never speaks in full sentences. It annoys me unnecessarily in this moment.
“If you’d back up, Angel will show you. Angel?”
Angel moves in as the Berserker reluctantly releases my shoulders. I’m not really fighting anymore, if I ever was. I’m so tired. So, so tired. When Angel comes close to me brandishing a pair of sharp-looking scissors, I sink into the mattress, wondering inanely what it’s stuffed with. It’s lumpy as shit. Probably trash.
“What’s in the bed? Dead cats?” I murmur raggedly.
Angel snorts and lifts the edge of my sweatshirt. She skims the scissors all the way up the fabric and I choke at the loss. My lower lip quivers against my will. I’m trying everything humanly possible not to sob and give these assholes the satisfaction, but a few tears escape, the Traitors.
From the foot of the bed, Merlin’s voice manages to sound annoyingly empathetic. “Aww come on now, Echo. You didn’t cry when I took your boots. Your sweatshirt’s gone anyway.”
“Fuck you, Merlin.” I sniffle hard and jerk when I feel cool air touch my bare stomach and both my tits. I jerk harder at the press of warm, callused knuckles on my cheek. The Berserker’s looking down at me, his lips pressed together so hard he could spit diamonds. His gaze is one hundred percent black and focused on my eyes. We share a bleak and horrible moment before Angel tries to take my injured arm in her hand.
I scream wildly, “Stop it!”
“Easy,” the man doctor says, holding up a hand. “Insert the IV first, Angel. No — in herotherarm.”
He shakes his head and Angel has the decency to look mildly sheepish as she gets up and moves around the mattress to kneel next to the Berserker. “Um…may I?”
He pulls his hand off of my cheek and I shiver at the absence of his heat. He moves to stand at the foot of the bed, Merlin a few feet behind him. His eyes flare when they move over my body, lingering around my neck where things feel most gruesome. I can feel the slippery blood pouring out of me. I don’t want to see it though. Not ever. I hope I never again come in contact with a mirror.
“Damn,” Merlin says, and her cheeks are pink. She breaks my gaze quickly. “I thought when an Alpha bonded an Omega, the venom was supposed to heal her up.”
“You useful here?” the Berserker barks and he doesn’t wait for her answer. “No? Then get the fuck out.” He spins, grabs her by the front of her shirt and throws her so hard against the wall she leaves an indent in it before falling to her knees.
Just out of my vision, she hisses, “I’m not the one who butchered her, so don’t get mad at me…”
