AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Cian doesn’t take us to my room.
Whether it’s because he doesn’t trust Della and doesn’t want her invading my space, doesn’t want to invade it himself, or if it’s for another reason entirely, I don’t know and I don’t ask.
But I’m grateful not to be there. I’d be far too tempted to crawl into the closet, burrow right to the bottom corner of my nest, and never leave it.
Ever.
I sit on the edge of the bed in what must be another guest bedroom, staring at the door Cian is standing beside. This room is a pale blue, nowhere near as pretty as the room I’ve started to think of as mine. “Why do you think she did it?”
Della is sitting on the bed beside me, her hand inches from mine. She’s not watching the door like I am. If I was sure she hadn’t betrayed me by telling Lawrence I was here, I’d have grabbed her hand and squeezed. For comfort, support, and just because it’s Della. Maybe a little of everything.
The intensity of her stare burns through my right cheek.
Is she waiting to give Lawrence a sign I’m here? Or is her attention due to some other nefarious reason we’ll all find out soon? Like maybe Lawrence isn’t alone in the car out there. Maybe he has Dexter Pieter, head of the Council with him, or even the leaders from the Omega Institute.
“Drugged me?” I quietly add in case I haven’t been clear.
Just saying it makes bile crawl up my throat. How the hell have I not spewed my guts out yet?
“She said Lawrence’s father told her that Lawrence wasn’t ready to claim his omega yet,” Della says in the same low tone. “She didn’t say, but I think she got the suppressants from him.”
Claim.
I think of a piece of luggage on an airport conveyor belt going round and round, waiting for the owner to climb off their plane and get their bag.
How long does the same piece of luggage go round before the airport staff pull it off and set it aside as lost or forgotten?
What if it never gets claimed?
I’m thinking of airports and luggage and being a thing to be claimed when I focus on Cian. He’s not watching the door either. He’s watching me.
“You said Lawrence had spent years traveling in Europe,” I remember.
Which means Lawrence’s father had Anna Jackson feed me a steady diet of suppressants for three years so his son could party it up in Europe.
“I did,” he quietly confirms.
What does taking strong drugs every day for three years do to your insides? Have they done permanent damage to me?
I envision myself as a piece of forgotten luggage going round and round an airport conveyor belt, a label around my neck with a stamped: Property of Lawrence Wentworth.
No matter where I go or what I do, people will return me to him.
I push myself to my feet, my face frozen.
“Everleigh?” Della reaches a hand toward me, getting up much slower.
I shake my head. “Give me five minutes.”
I cross over to the bathroom, close the door behind me, and give in to the urge that’s been rising since Della told me about the suppressants.
Dropping to my knees in front of the toilet, I brush my hair over my shoulders and vomit.
I’m not even close to being done when gentle hands take over my hair holding. Pressing my palms on the toilet seat, I work to rid my body of every nasty thing in it.
I don’t know how much time passes until I’m done. A long time. Who would have thought it would be so exhausting to empty your stomach?
I’m resting my cheek on the cool toilet seat, knowing it’s gross but not caring, when Cian draws my body back and tucks it against his.
