Page 17 of In Doubt
“You should drink more,” he tells me in that stupidly authoritative manner of his. The one that has the omega within me wanting to lie down on the ground for him. I shove her stupid ideas away, reaching for my sarcasm.
“Yes, Daddy,” I chime. His eyes widen and realising my mistake, my cheeks blaze.
“I … you should … dehydration.”
“I’m fine,” I gulp. “Maybe you should worry about yourself. I don’t want to have to haul an unconscious alpha out of this trench when you faint from lack of water.”
He splutters. “Faint? I don’t faint.”
“Everyone faints. It’s a biological process. Alphas aren’t immune just because you’re big and tough and burly.”
“Big, tough and burly.” He’s smirking again. I can hear it in his voice. Goddamn it. He has a way of making me say stupid things, things I don’t mean half the time or things that can be misinterpreted. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”
“Well, me neither actually and I bet I’ve had more cause than you to!”
“Oh yeah, you ever dislocated your shoulder?”
“No, but a cervical smear is no joke I’m telling you that.”
He’s silent and I realise I just invited this alpha to start thinking about my cervix. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I think straight today? Sometimes I wish I could keep my mouth shut.
But I wasn’t lying. I don’t like silences. Not when it’s dark and cramped like this. My mind has a tendency to lead me to places I don’t want to go. Dragging me back to times I want to forget. To that room. To that voice.
“I once fell out of a tree though, and got knocked unconscious,” I offer up, wanting to change the conversation away from my womb.
“It’s strange isn’t it? I’ve been knocked out three times on the rugby pitch. Woken up on a stretcher with all these faces peering down at me wondering where the hell I am. Once I lost my short term memory for a few hours through concussion.”
I wince. It’s why I hate that stupid game. “I remember,” I whisper.
I feel his hot gaze snap my way. “What?”
It was the only time I’ve ever been to a match. My friends had wanted to go and perhaps I was a little curious, wanting to see him play. To understand all the fuss.
He’d been jumping for a ball, reaching high into the air, his team mate lifting him off the ground. Then there’d been a clash of heads. He’d fallen and lain there unmoving. Limp. Lifeless. And for several long minutes I hadn’t been able to breathe.
I blink the memory away. Opening my eyes to find his on me. Their murky blue depths dragging me in.
“It’s a stupid game,” I mumble. “You should wear helmets. Like they do in the States.”
“Rugby and American Football are not the same thing,” he says with disgust.
“No, the Americans are sensible and actually wear protective clothing.”
“We don’t need it.”
“You just told me you’ve been knocked out three times, Jake!”
“And you got knocked out falling out of a tree.”
“I was racing my brother and I slipped. He felt so guilty afterwards that he brought me sweets and did all my chores.” I giggle. “It was nice to feel pampered while it lasted.”
“I always wanted a big brother,” he tells me. “Someone to play with, kick a ball around with.”
“You’re an only child?”
“Yeah.” He grimaces, a shadow passing over his face.
“Well, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. We used to fight a lot when we were little and he’d tease me. Now he’s pretty protective. It took a lot of persuasion to convince him to let me come on this trip.”
