Page 41 of Torment Me Knot
The insides of her arms are a map of needle marks. Track lines from IVs, from injections, running from her inner elbows down to her wrists. Dozens of them. Hundreds. She's twenty-four years old and her body looks like a war zone.
I breathe through my nose, slow, controlled. I will not vomit. I will not show them how horrified I am. If I react, if they see the disgust on my face, they'll think I'm disgusted bytheminstead of by what was done to them.
How does someone do this? How does any alpha look at an omega, vulnerable, trusting,theirs to protect, and do this?
Sera is already watching me, grief burning bright in the depths of her gaze. The rage she's holding back. She knows. She's seen all of this and the fire in them promises retribution. On this, we’re aligned.
Her purr never falters, but her grip hardens against the side of the tub hard enough for her knuckles to pale. The control in her expression suddenly looks less effortless and more like something she's forcing into place by sheer will.
I work shampoo through Aubrey's hair, my fingers against his scalp, gentler than I've ever touched anything in my life. Every muscle in his body goes rigid and I freeze. Don't move. Don't breathe.
One second. Two. Three.
His head tilts back, just a fraction, giving me better access. He groans, just a slight sound and my cock swells, making my pants tight. I ignore myself. He's letting me touch him.
“You're doing great,” Sera murmurs. “Almost done.” Sera’s either talking to him or me. I don’t care. I’ll take whatever she wants to say to me too.
I rinse Aubrey’s hair clean and I move to Espie. She tenses when my hands touch her head but doesn't pull away. Violet eyes open, watching me, so I keep my movements slow and predictable. Her hair is thick and curly, tangled from days without care, and I tease out the knots instead of pulling. Her eyes drift closed again. Not relaxed, but not fighting me either.
Aubrey's breathing has slowed. The warmth of the water, the gentleness of the touch, and Sera's arms wrapped around him are finally pulling him under. Both omegas are fading now, their heads drooping and their bodies growing heavy against Sera's chest. Whatever reserves they had left are gone.
“Stay with me,” Sera says. “Just a little longer. Then you can sleep.”
Espie makes a small sound. I work conditioner through Aubrey's hair, then Espie's.
“Just give me a moment and I’ll get your clothes.” I slip out of the bathroom hoping none of them see the tent at the front of my pants and find the shopping bags Kev left. I duck back inside just as Sera helps them out of the bath one at a time. Espie's legs wobble the moment her feet hit the tile and Sera catches her, wrapping an arm around her waist. Water pools on the floor beneath them.
Aubrey grips the edge of the tub, knuckles white, arms shaking as he tries to pull himself up. He can't do it and a pitiful whine escapes him.
“Purr for him,” Sera says. “Help him.”
I let my purr roll up from my chest, keeping it low and soft. The effect is instant. Aubrey's grip on the tub loosens, and his breath comes out in a shaky exhale instead of panicked gulps. He's responding tomypurr.Holy shit.
I want to punch the air. I want to drop to my knees and thank every god I've never believed in.
“I've got you, Aubrey. Please, let me help.” I keep my voice low and reach for him slowly, telegraphing every movement.
My hands wrap around his arms, careful, so careful, and I lift him over the edge of the tub. He weighs nothing. Skin and bones and not much else. I wrap a towel around his shoulders and he stands there swaying, eyes half-closed. He leans into the friction as I dry him. Just barely. Just enough that I notice.
I notice everything about him. Every twitch, every breath, every millimeter he doesn't pull away. I fumble in the bags and retrieve soft pajamas. Cotton. Loose fit. I hand a set to Sera and she nods, already turning to Espie.
Aubrey stands shivering in front of me, towel wrapped around his shoulders, eyes unfocused. I keep my purr going, and reach for the shirt.
“Arms up,” I say softly. “That's it. One at a time.”
He lifts his arms. Shaking, barely coordinated, but he lifts them. I slide the shirt over his head, careful not to catch the fabric on his ears, and guide his arms through the sleeves. The cotton brushes against his skin and he shivers again, though whether from cold or something else I can't tell.
We should have brought him home. We should have fought harder to get him out of the Omega Healing Center. Instead we left him there, watching him deteriorate in that sterile room with its sterile smells and its sterile staff who didn't know him, didn't love him, didn't—
I'm spiraling. I know I'm spiraling. I force myself back to the task.
“Pants now,” I murmur. “Hold onto my shoulder if you need to.”
His hand lands on my shoulder. Feather-light, trembling, but there. I crouch down and guide his feet into the pajama pants one at a time, pulling them up over his hips. They're huge on him. The waistband gapes and the legs pool around his ankles. I tie off the waist so they stay up.
“There you go.” My voice comes out rough. “All done.”
Sera has finished dressing Espie, but she's still standing there in her wet underwear, water dripping down her legs, goosebumps breaking out across her skin. Her nipples pucker beneath her wet bra.
