To ruin an Omega

Chapter 79: Crashing

FIA

The shard caught the moonlight as Bo raised it above her head.

I tried to run. My legs would not move. They felt like they were rooted to the ground. Like someone had poured concrete into my bones and left me there to harden.

“You should have minded your business,” Bo said.

She lunged.

I fell backward. The ground rushed up to meet me and I hit hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. Before I could roll away, before I could even think about getting up, she was on top of me.

The shard came down.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four.

Each strike burned white-hot between my shoulder blades. I felt the blade pierce skin. Felt it slide between ribs. Felt it scrape against bone with a sound that made my stomach turn.

I screamed but nothing came out.

Bo’s face was above mine. She was smiling. Not the pleasant smile from before. Not the one she used when she thought I was just another foolish omega. This smile was all teeth, malice and satisfaction.

“This is what happens,” she said.

The shard came down again.

And again.

And again.

I gasped and sat up so fast my vision went white.

My hands came up automatically. Ready to fight. Ready to push her off. Ready to do something other than just lie there and let her stab me over and over while I bled out into the dirt.

But there was no dirt.

There was no Bo.

There were only strong arms wrapped around me. Holding me tight. Keeping me in place.

I thrashed against them. A sound escaped my throat that was half scream and half sob.

“Fia.”

The voice was familiar. Low and rough and edged with something that might have been concern if I could think straight enough to identify it.

“Fia. Calm down.”

The arms tightened. Not painfully. Just enough to remind me they were there. That they were real. That this was real.

“It’s me,” the voice said.

I stopped fighting.

My breathing was too fast. Too shallow. Each inhale felt like I was trying to suck air through a straw. I blinked hard and the room came into focus around me.

Dark walls. A massive bed. Sheets tangled around my legs.

This was Cian’s bedroom.

“I had a horrible dream,” I said.

My voice came out hoarse. Like I had actually been screaming.

“I can tell.”

He was still holding me. I realized that suddenly. His chest was pressed against my back. His arms were around my waist. His chin was somewhere near my shoulder.

“I felt your fear,” he added.

Of course he did. The bond. The stupid goddess-damned bond that apparently worked both ways whether I wanted it to or not.

I turned my head and found him looking at me. His eyes were hard to read in the darkness. But they were focused. Alert. Like he had been awake for a while.

I swallowed.

“Why are you here with me?”

It came out more accusing than I meant it to. But I could not take it back now.

“Am I not supposed to be with the healers?”

Cian’s jaw tightened.

“I did take you there,” he said. “And you were stitched up.”

He paused. His arms loosened slightly around me but he did not let go completely.

“But you needed my body heat,” he continued. “And that is what I am doing.”

Body heat.

The words hit me like cold water.

I became suddenly, acutely aware of how close we were. How his legs were tangled with mine under the duvet. How his bare chest was warm against my back. How his breath stirred the hair at the nape of my neck.

Heat flooded through me. Not the feverish heat from the blood loss. Something else. Something that made my skin feel too tight and my breathing turn shallow and my heart kick against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

“Do you feel well enough for me to stop?”

His voice was neutral. Like he was asking about the weather. Like this was perfectly normal.

I nodded.

Slowly.

“Okay then.”

He pulled away.

The loss of warmth was immediate. I had not realized how cold the room was until he was not pressed against me anymore. The air felt sharp against my skin.

I heard him move behind me. Heard the rustle of fabric as he reached for something.

“You are covered in blood by the way.”

I looked down. My dress was stiff with it. Dark patches spread across the fabric in patterns that made my stomach turn. Some of it was mine. Some of it was probably Bo’s. I did not want to think about how much of it belonged to which one of us.

“You might want to take a shower,” Cian said.

I heard more rustling. When I glanced over my shoulder he was pulling a shirt over his head. The muscles in his back flexed as he moved. I looked away quickly.

“I on the other hand will return to the climax of this madness.”

Just like that.

He was already moving on. Already shifting back into Alpha mode like the last few minutes had not happened. Like he had not just been curled around me in his bed keeping me warm with his body heat.

I reached for the bond without thinking.

It was like hitting a wall.

He had locked it down again. Shoved it into that mental bubble where I could barely sense him. Where all I got was the faintest echo of his presence instead of the full force of whatever he was feeling.

How did he do that so easily?

How did he just detach himself like flipping a switch?

“You are right,” I said.

My voice sounded steadier than I felt.

“I need to take a bath.”

I pushed the duvet off and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The floor looked very far away suddenly. I took a breath and stood.

The world tilted.

I stumbled forward. My vision blurred at the edges and my knees tried to buckle. I caught myself on the nightstand but only barely.

“Are you alright?”

Cian was there.

I did not hear him move. Did not see him cross the room. But suddenly his hands were on my arms. Steadying me. Keeping me upright.

“Just light-headed,” I said.

He was close again. Close enough that I could see the concern written across his face even in the dim light. His hand came up to my forehead. Then moved to the side of my neck. Checking my pulse maybe. Or the stitches. I could not tell.

“Maybe I should help you out,” he said.

My cheeks went hot.

“What do you mean?”

The question came out sharper than I intended. More defensive. Like I thought he was suggesting something inappropriate when he was probably just being practical.

Cian looked at me like I was acting strange.

“It’s just a bath,” he said.

Right.

Of course.

Just a bath.

I swallowed and tried to think of something to say that would not make me sound like an idiot. Nothing came to mind.

“Is that a problem?” he asked.

He tilted his head slightly. Studying me.

“I would have gotten an Omega,” he continued. “But I will be frank. I am wary of everybody at the moment.”

“I get that,” I said quickly. Too quickly.

“But I can take a bath myself.”

I took a step forward to prove it. My legs cooperated for exactly two steps before my vision blurred again and the floor rushed up to meet me.

“Shit,” I muttered.

His strong arms caught me before I hit the ground.

“Please stop being stubborn.”

Cian’s voice was right by my ear. His hand was wrapped around mine. The other was already reaching for his shirt again.

He pulled it off in one smooth motion and tossed it somewhere behind him.

Then he was guiding me toward the bathroom. His grip was firm but not rough. Just insistent enough to make it clear he was not taking no for an answer.

The bathroom was much bigger than the one in my suite. It was covered in white marble, gleaming fixtures and has a tub that could probably fit three people comfortably.

Cian led me to the edge of the tub and stopped.

“Strip,” he said.

I leaned against the wall for support and stared at him.

“What? No.”

The words came out horrified. Like he had just asked me to walk naked through the pack house.

“It is not a big deal,” he said. “Nothing is happening.”

Nothing is happening.

He said it so casually. Like this was perfectly normal. Like he helped injured omegas bathe all the time.

“You are not going to make it seem like I am the difficult one,” I said.

My voice came out defensive. I could not help it.

“Imagine the tables were turned and I told you to strip.”

Cian shrugged.

“I would have no problems with it.”

Of course he would not.

“Unless of course you are having vile thoughts,” he added.

I scoffed.

“No I am not.”

“So what is the problem?”

He took a step closer. His eyes locked on mine. Waiting for an answer I did not have.

I swallowed hard.

“I will feel exposed,” I said finally. “It is embarrassing.”

The words felt small as soon as they left my mouth. Childish even. But they were true.

Cian was quiet for a moment. Then he said something that made my brain short-circuit.

“Would me being naked help?”

My cheeks went from warm to burning.

“What?”

He approached me. Slow and deliberate. Each step measured.

“You said it is embarrassing,” he said. “Would it be less embarrassing if you were not doing it alone?”

I could not answer. My throat had gone completely dry.

When he realized an answer might not be coming. He nodded.

“Perhaps I can get Maren,” he offered. “I trust her.”

Maren.

Right.

That would be the sensible option. The safe option. The option that did not involve Cian stripping down in front of me while I tried to pretend I was not affected by it.

“Yes,” I said.

The word came out barely above a whisper.

“Yes what?”

His voice was quieter now. Almost gentle. Like he was trying to give me an out if I wanted one.

I took a breath.

“It would be less embarrassing if you were naked too.”

I could not believe I said it.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then Cian said, “Alright.”

His hand moved to the zip of his pants.

I watched him. I could not help it. My eyes traced the line of his shoulders. The defined muscles of his chest. The ridges of his abdomen that led down to that sharp v-line that became more prominent with every second.

My mouth went dry.

I forced myself to look away and reached behind my back for the zip of my dress. My fingers fumbled with it. The angle was awkward and my hands were still shaky from the blood loss and the nightmare and everything else.

The zip would not budge.

I tried again. My fingernails scraped against the fabric but could not quite catch the pull.

Cian’s hand stilled on his zipper.

“Having trouble?” he asked.

I bit my lip and tried one more time.

Nothing.

“Yeah, I cannot reach it,” I admitted.