Page 102 of Claimed By the Rockstars: Part One
Right.
I'm naked.
Completely, utterly naked because I stripped out of everything hours ago when the heat started spiking and clothesfelt like sandpaper against my skin. And when you're naked, certain anatomical features become... obvious.
Like the fact that I don't have a cock.
Like the fact that I very clearly have breasts. Not huge ones, but unmistakably present.
Like the fact that I am absolutely, undeniably,female.
"You're agirl?" Phoenix blurts out, his voice cracking on the last word.
I try to respond. Really, I do. But what comes out is just a pathetic groan that sounds like a dying cat being strangled by a accordion.
Rafael appears in the doorway, taking in the scene. His eyes track from Phoenix's face to mine to my very naked, very female body sprawled on the bathroom floor.
"Holy shit," he breathes, his eyes growing darker as his pupils widen. His shock immediately becomes concern as he takes in my state. "Bells, are you?—?"
"I'm fine," I say, forcing myself up onto my knees with motor coordination and strength I'm borrowing from a version of myself that has them. The room spins violently to punish me for my hubris.
Okay, not fine. But I manage not to collapse again.
Oh, right. Phoenix is holding me up, one huge, muscular arm bracing me while taking care not to touch anything I wouldn't want him to. A gentleman even in the middle of an emergency.
"Let's get you in bed," Phoenix suggests. A suggestion I'm more than willing to take, considering that standing on my own might as well be an Olympic sport.
Phoenix lifts me like I weigh nothing and carries me out of the bathroom, placing me in the middle of the nest I'd so carefully constructed, now cradling me like it was designed for this exact purpose.
Which, I guess, it was.
Phoenix disappears and returns with a cold washcloth that he presses to my forehead. The relief is immediate and overwhelming. I could cry. Might be crying already. Hard to tell when everything is wet and burning and spinning.
"What happened?" Rafael asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You were fine a few hours ago."
"Poisoned," I manage to croak out. "Not just... heat drugs. Something else."
They exchange looks that would be funny if I weren't currently experiencing what feels like the heat death of the universe in my own body.
"We need to take you to the hospital," Phoenix says firmly. "This isn't normal."
"No." The word comes out stronger than I expected. "Can't. Rex knows... I'm a girl. But not... not omega. Can't know.Ever."
"Bells—"
"Promise me," I grab Phoenix's wrist with what little strength I have left. "He can't know. If he finds out... ifanyonefinds out..."
They exchange a look, and I can tell they're both at war with themselves. Between respecting my wishes and the alpha instincts that probably had a meltdown when they found me collapsed on that bathroom floor.
"Besides," I say in a desperate attempt to reassure them and lighten the mood, "no way anything is left in my stomach now."
They look unconvinced, but Rafael slumps against the wall and groans, dragging both hands down his face. "I fucked around with a guyunnecessarily. Bells has been a girl all along?"
Despite everything—the fever, the nausea, the fact that I just turned my stomach inside out in a hotel bathroom—I manage to crack one eye open and glare at him.
"Priorities, Raf," Phoenix mutters.
"I see you took my suggestion earlier to heart," I say dryly, amused at the flush spreading across Rafael's face. Then another wave hits, but this one isn't nausea. This one is pure heat, the kind that makes my back arch off the bed and a sound that's definitely not human tear from my throat.
