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Instead, I wake to an alternate reality where the best friend I’ve missed for years knocks over a tub of cheese puffs, springing from an armchair to the rail of my hospital bed. “Sol?”
Lilah Darling—Lilah Wyvern—glows. Her sharp-but-cute face has filled in. She looks healthy. Happy. Nothing like the scrawny, bruised omega of the past.
But why is she here?
“Are you okay?” Lilah leans in, wafting the strange alpha scents that cling to her oversized hoodie.
Cedar. Orange. Apple-musk.
My throat pinches.
Those aren’t my alphas.
“Where are my—” The words choke. They aren’t my mates. Not yet. “Meadows Pack?”
“Waiting room. The doctor won’t let unbonded alphas near you without your consent, so my guys are keeping them from tearing up the floor.”
They’re here.
I flop back on the bed.
Then the neck of my hospital gown also flops, sliding down my shoulder to bare my scars. I grab for the sheet, but before I can satisfy the baked-in urge to cover up, my weirdly stiff arms stop short.
My left wrist is cast in white plaster and my right wrist has more plugged-in cords than a call center.
I freeze.
Breathe.
I don’t need to lie anymore.
Gripping the cast, I look to Lilah. “How broken am I?”
“Just a fractured wrist and a shit-ton of cuts and bruises. The doctor said it would take a day to clear the sedatives from your system. She was just waiting for you to wake up before she’d say anything about your hormones. Hold on.” Lilah calls over her shoulder. “Orion?”
A tall, blond omega opens the door and walks into my hospital room eyeing me like I’m the threat.
He doesn’t make sharp moves, but his unfamiliar apple cider prickles in a not-so-comfy way when I don’t know who he is or how I got here.
My throat-glands squeeze and my pheromones rear.
I grit them down, but something feels different. Looser. “Lilah. Step back.”
“Go find the doctor.” Ignoring me, Lilah shoos Orion. “Sol won’t hurt me.”
Are you sure?
Because I’m not.
Orion shares my doubts, trying to drag her away. “Lilah—”
“Please?” The girl who taught me how to gut a handsy alpha with a whittled toothbrush lifts onto her toes, possessively nipping the bite-scar on Orion’s throat.
He softens, warm and gooey as a chocolate-chip cookie. Then Lilah matches his melty smile, and for ten seconds of madly-in-love eye-fucking, they don’t give a shit about me, my pheromones, or anyone in the universe.
I want that for her.
I want it for me, too.
