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The suite is stocked with everything. I ransack the cabinets and jam as much as I can hide into my bag.
“Lilah?” Orion knocks. “Are you ready? The doctor wants to talk before you get your discharge papers.”
“Just a second!” And speaking of discharge…
I shove a pad into my lacy new panties. If my perfume’s coming in, my body’s going to start with all the omega tricks.
My slick is a death sentence if one of the alphas catches a whiff—let alone Orion.
You saved my life won’t pull as much weight when my arousal slaps him in the face and hormones have me throwing myself at his mates, begging them to knot me.
Smoothing my hoodie with shaking hands, I try to breathe. Everything has changed, but nothing is different.
I need about three hours of laps in ice-cold lake water, followed by a marathon of treadmill and boxing. I’m too rested and hydrated after sleeping and being pumped full of IV fluids. I need to drain this energy to get back to normal. I need to wear myself out until I puke.
“Ready,” I call when I’m positive I’m scent-free.
Orion and Hunter enter, followed by a clean-cut beta doctor.
Hunter frowns at the wet hair soaking my hoodie. “You got your bandage wet?”
Shit. He sees too much, too quickly.
“I needed a shower.”
“You have to take better care of yourself, Miss Darling.” The doctor calls for a nurse to change my bandages, and his eyes pinch as he works himself into a lecture. “With your history of injuries, you need to make health and nutrition a priority if you’re ever going to resolve your late awakening and hit fertility.”
Right. Because my main concern after a gunshot wound should be opening the gates to my baby factory. “I hate children.”
The guy gapes like a koi fish. “That’s… Excuse me, I thought…”
Hunter rolls his eyes. “We’ll take good care of her.”
“Yes. Of course.” The doctor recovers from the fluster, and spouts a bunch of ultrabasic omega healthcare info that I could rattle off backward in Mandarin.
I know how my body works.
When I’m set with dry bandages, Orion and Hunter walk me down the stairs, and I try not to preen at how much I like being between them.
I can’t help sneaking peeks. Orion is every inch the prince, soft curls glittering in the sun, the perfect contrast to Hunter’s dark, knowing, action-figure vibe.
“Careful,” Hunter says, tugging me away from the umbrella stand I almost ate.
He sees everything, and I like him seeing me, watching over me.
I seriously have to get my shit together.
Whatever dopey smile I’m wearing dies when I spot the Jeep on the curb. Craig jumps up like their left-behind hound.
“Alpha. Omega.” He licks his lips, leaning a little too close to Orion, who draws back from him until his shoulder bumps mine.
It’s super clear that his simpering omega is for Orion and Orion only. Craig quirks a sneer when his gaze passes over me like I’m the trash bag they’re hauling into his ride.
It’ll be a goddamned miracle if I don’t stab this guy.
“Straight to the house,” Hunter says, helping me into the backseat.
“Yes, Alpha.” Craig hops to obey, opening the passenger door with a puppy dog look, and his cardboard scent swells with hope.
