Page 69 of The Gift
“What if we knew a piece of the puzzle? And we were struggling with telling you?” Ashton asks.
“It might help, depending what day it is, that’s a good thing,” I reply.
“Perhaps, but I think you’ve suffered enough. What happened to you and the others at Regalo is absolutely disgusting. I’m going to fucking destroy any person involved,” Reno adds, walking closer, and with each step, he scents for me, his bitter sweet chocolate scent wrapping around me soothingly.
Tipping my head to the side. “I thought you were the chill one?”
Henley barks a laugh from over Reno’s shoulder. “You thought Reno was the chilled one? Are you serious, Bailey? Oh my god! Honestly! I’m the chill one.”
He makes me laugh because that is so not true. I keep my eyes glued on Reno through it all.
“Hi,” he adds shyly as he approaches, letting the syringe sit on the bench near us. I can see he wants to comfort me, so I open myself up for a hug and without being asked again, he sweeps in. “We got you, Bailey.”
“Think I might start believing you soon,” I whisper back, squeezing the crap out of him, pulling back after a while. “Stick it in me.”
“As much as I’d like to do that, I think we have to leave for the interview soon,” he replies, adopting the deadpan face like he does when he’s mucking around.
I laugh, smacking his shoulder. We both know what I meant. He unhooks his arms from around me but doesn’t move too far, picking up the syringe. “This one needs to go somewhere on your midsection.”
“What’s in it?”
“Asafe.” He exaggerates, flicking his eyebrow up in challenge. “Short term suppressant. Not like the other shit you were taking. If you continue with the scent blocker and a cloud of your expensive perfume, you’ll scent like you always do. This contains predominately the same chemicals as the one you were using, but they’re purer, less toxic. And not cut with bleach and potassium nitrate.”
“How long does it last?” I ask Reno.
“We need to assess frequently. Like I said, you’re responding, we are too. I’m trying to get your natural hormones and chemicals back to that of a beta. What I’ve prepared will dull your senses and douse your responses to all of us.”
Shrugging, I answer him, making sure everyone hears. “Which, for the next little while, is going to be for the good.”
“Yeah. I have to say it again though, Bailey, things have already changed in your composition and in ours. I can’t reel back our reaction to you.” Reno taps my knee so I stay current with the conversation and not drift away in thought.
“Explain it again?”
Reno stays next to me as he explains, “Alphas and strong betas, once they scent an omega, or ‘their’ omega, undergo certain physiological, physical, and even chemical changes. On a cellular level. No matter how much you wish it differently, we’ve got our sights set on you, and we will not be able to reverse that.”
“Is it an issue?”
“Only if someone hurts or threatens you,” Henley barks, getting all alpha-ish again.
“Jesus, that’s going to be fun, isn’t it? Carmen generally wants to strangle me daily.”
I take off my jacket without looking at them. There’s no need to triple check, I can feel them watching. And damn, it’s a good feeling.
“You don’t want to acknowledge anything about thetheiromega, I dropped into our conversation?” Reno adds, dropping low so he’s in my view. His jade green eyes glittering while he waits.
“This first.”
He stands back, the needle ready, and I use my hand on his to encourage him to inject. The sting is over before it starts, but Reno still makes a point of licking his finger and rubbing it over the non-existent puncture wound, soothing the pain that isn’t there. Although I’m certain he’s no longer looking at me like I’m his patient if the fire in his eyes is any indicator. Still, it’s the thought that counts. And the A-team thinks good.
Within a few minutes, a metallic taste hits my tongue and I can feel a rush of the drugs working their way through my system. It’s like everything cools off. It’s not a nice feeling, but I’m used to it. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I look up at them.
“Are you sure?”
“These doubts are unlike you, Bailey. What gives?” Henley thrums his fingers on the table, impatiently, annoyed.
“Do you want the honest version of me, or the one I have been, Henley?” I ask, purposely being coy.
“We want all of it!” His hand hits the table in emphasis.
