Blood roars in my ears as I scoop her up and bolt for the stairs. No one else is here. I don’t stop until we’re outside, shoving her into my car. The hospital’s just outside of town, but it’s still ten minutes away. I floor it, calling 911 as I tear down the road.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“My omega is having an asthma attack,” I shout into the speakers.
“Has she used her rescue inhaler?”
“Yes, but she says it’s not working.” Clara’s eyes are heavy, like she’s fading. “Clara!” I shake her gently, and her eyes snap open.
“Sir, continue to administer the inhaler. Do you need an ambulance?”
I grab the inhaler, pressing it to her mouth one-handed while still driving. She wraps her fingers around mine. Our eyes meet and she nods. I press down, and she inhales.
We round the curve. The hospital comes into view.
Finian
Ican’ttouchherlike they can, not during the day. Not out of the house. But I can make damn sure she keeps breathing.
Clara
Myheadispounding.My back aches. Small sounds echo around me, steady beeping, the faint hum of air through vents. I open my eyes to find I’m in a hospital room. In a hospital bed. Every breath is a struggle, my lungs raw and tight. Needles prick my arms where IV lines run.
My last memory is trying to get ahead of an asthma attack that slipped out of control. My inhaler hadn’t worked.
A weight against my right side draws my attention. A tousled head of black hair rests there, face tucked into the crook of his arm. Dagan. Relief flickers, and I reach to comb my fingers through his silky hair.
But when he stirs and lifts his head, my stomach drops. Black ink climbs up his neck, and a lip ring glints in the low light. Cinnamon-and-pumpkin scent rolls over me. Victor.
I jerk my hand back as if burned. An expression I’ve never seen flickers across his face—his brow furrows, and he quickly looks down.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you had asthma?” he demands.
Hot anger spikes through my exhaustion. How dare he act like this is my fault?
“Why should I? So you could throw it back in my face like everything else?” My voice is pure venom, even to my own ears.
Victor flinches. His gaze lifts for just a heartbeat, and in it I catch something that looks dangerously like regret.
“I—” He stops, shutting his mouth as if they got strangled on the way.
Fine. I turn my head away, the sharp ache in my chest now more from him than my lungs.
I’ve tried so hard for so long with Victor. And now, when he finally deigns to be in a room with me, I wish he’d go.
The chair creaks—he’s moving. Good.
No, my omega snarls, her voice low and possessive. I shove her down hard. I’ve never ignored her before, but I’m not compromising on this.
His scent lingers, stubborn and warm, curling through the sterile tang of the hospital room. I turn my face toward the steady beep of the monitor, away from him, breathing shallow so I won’t take any more of it in.
I don’t watch him leave, but the absence he leaves behind is just as heavy as his presence.
I’m done with Victor.
Bram
Victor’ssittinginachair outside Clara’s room when Dagan, Jack, and I run up the hall.