SADIE
The first thing I see when I open my eyes is two heads hovering directly above me.
Two male heads, neither belonging to anyone I recognize, and both watching me with the kind of concern that makes me wonder what they’re seeing from up there. A terrifying way to wake up when I haven’t even had time to check whether all my body parts are still where I left them.
I try to figure out who they are, but the effort makes the ache behind my eyes worse, so I give up and squeeze them shut again.
Goddess, my head hurts.
The rest of me isn’t doing much better. My mouth is dry, there’s a horrible taste sitting at the back of my throat, and my stomach has that awful hollow ache that usually comes after throwing up too many times.
What the hell happened to me?
"Do you remember anything?" one of the bedside gargoyles asks.
"Dude, don’t scare her." The other voice jumps in. "Sadie, open your eyes. How many fingers? Can you see us? Wait, you’re not blind, right?"
Gargoyle Number One is better qualified for this situation. And wait, they know my name?
Slowly, I peel my eyes open, trying to look past the fact that I still have no idea who either of them is. A glance around also leaves me with more questions. I’m in my room, tucked into my bed with the covers pulled over me, even though the last place I remember being is the living room.
How did I get here?
Working backward, the last thing I remember clearly is Trey leaving for practice. I spent most of the evening unpacking and moving my things around until I got hungry. By then, I was too tired to make anything, so I went through the fridge looking for something easy.
I remember finding the orange juice. I remember finishing one bottle much faster than I meant to, opening another and deciding I should probably eat an apple with it.
I don’t remember getting the apple.
Everything after opening that second bottle is just gone, and the longer I search for memories beyond it, the more uncomfortable the blank space becomes.
Did I pass out?
The possibility has me pressing my palms into the mattress to sit up, but both guys practically launch themselves toward me.
"Whoa, don’t do that."
"Stay down."
A frown crosses my face as I sink back against the pillows. Is this a hostage situation?
One of them turns toward the open door. "She’s awake!"
"And she can see!" the other adds.
What’s with the obsession about my sight?
Footsteps come from the hallway almost immediately, and Trey walks into the room with an older man in glasses right behind him.
Seeing a face I recognize should make me feel better. It does for about half a heartbeat, until I notice how tense Trey looks.
That can’t be good.
I’ve barely lived here for half a day and I’m waking up in bed with no memory of how I got here, two strange men guarding me like I might make a run for it, and now there’s a fourth man entering my bedroom carrying a medical bag.
At this point, I’d settle for someone telling me what happened before another man walks through that door.
The older man approaches with a stethoscope around his neck and the moment he reaches toward me, I instinctively shift farther into the pillows.
"It’s okay," he says, stopping before he touches me. "I’m a doctor."
The stethoscope gave that part away. What I’d really like explained is why I need one.
He must realize I’m still several explanations behind because his expression softens. "You probably don’t remember what happened. You lost consciousness after drinking the orange juice from the refrigerator. There was a suppressant mixed into it."
"A suppressant?"
For one horrible second, I just stare at him. Then Trey becomes the obvious person to turn to, considering I didn’t put mystery drugs in his orange juice.
His jaw tightens slightly. "I might’ve forgotten to tell you about that."
Might have?
There are things you might forget to tell your new roommate. Where the hot sauce is. Where the extra towels are. Drugged orange juice feels like it should sit considerably higher on the list.
Especially after he specifically told me I could eat or drink whatever I wanted.
What if I’d drunk more? What if I’d died on his living room floor less than six hours after moving in?
"You’re fine," the doctor assures me before my thoughts can find an even worse possibility. "Your body rejected most of it. That’s why you lost consciousness and why there was some bleeding from your mouth, but there doesn’t appear to be any lasting harm."
There was blood coming out of my mouth?
Not to question a doctor when I flunked biology, but how does any part of that sound fine?
"I’d still like to examine you," he continues. "The reaction itself is unusual. You shouldn’t have responded this severely to that particular suppressant."
Particular suppressant?
My attention returns to Trey. He’s been suspiciously quiet through all of this.
"What exactly does it suppress?" I ask.
The doctor looks at Trey instead of answering, which is interesting. Even more interesting is Trey staring back without rescuing him from the conversation they’re trying very hard not to have in front of me.
Eventually, we all end up looking at each other.
This is productive.
"Shouldn’t I at least know what I drank?" I ask. "What’s so secretive about it?"
Neither of them answers, and somewhere in the silence, my brain finally comes up with a possibility.
My eyes widen. "Wait."
No way.
I lower my voice. "Is it steroids?"
One of the gargoyles makes a choking sound beside me.
"It’s not steroids," Trey says flatly.
Well, good. Although judging by everyone’s reaction, I’m not sure I’ve guessed in a better direction.
"Then what is it?"
The doctor clears his throat again. He’s doing that a lot.
"It suppresses an Alpha wolf’s sexual drive. Unmated Alphas experience a considerably stronger mating urge around the full moon, and the suppressant helps keep those desires under control."
Every bit of heat drains from my face. Then it comes rushing straight back when what he actually said sinks in.
I drank anti-horny serum?
Oh. That’s...a lot more personal than I expected. My eyes find somewhere else to be, because looking at Trey now feels strangely inappropriate. I barely know him, and knowing anything about his full-moon sexual urges feels like crossing a line I definitely didn’t need to cross.
"So the suppressant isn’t supposed to have any effect on me?" I ask, quickly changing the subject.
"Not this kind of effect, no." He adjusts his glasses. "But your body reacted quite strongly to it, and there have been some changes."
My stomach drops. "Changes? What changes?"
Rather than answer, he reaches into his case and pulls out a small instrument. "Look at me for a second."
I let him examine me, trying not to blink while he shines the light into one eye and then the other.
"You woke up briefly before this," he explains. "Only for a few seconds before you lost consciousness again. That was when I noticed something unusual about your eyes." He lowers the light. "What color are they normally?"
"Amber."
Technically brown, but amber sounds prettier and the right lighting has always been willing to support me on that.
The doctor nods. "Don’t panic."
I wasn’t. Now I am.
He looks toward Trey, who picks up the small mirror from my vanity and brings it over.
My reflection looks normal at first. Messy curls, pale face, lips that could desperately use some balm, and—
Wait.
I bring the mirror closer.
My eyes.
I’m not usually one for aggressive profanity, but I’d like to see anyone wake up with the wrong eye color and respond politely.
"Holy motherfucker. Goddess’s left tit. What the actual fuck..."
They’re green.
Not hazel. Not my usual amber looking strange under the light. Green.
For a few seconds, I can only stare. I know these are my eyes because they’re sitting in my face, but everything about looking at them feels wrong.
I glance at the doctor before checking the mirror again, still stupidly hoping I imagined it the first time.
No such luck.
"What happened to me?"
He takes the mirror from my hand. "That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Green eyes are associated with Alpha wolves. An omega developing them shouldn’t be possible."
Shouldn’t be possible?
"But you ingested a suppressant formulated specifically for an Alpha wolf," he continues. "Given how strongly you reacted to it, there’s a chance the change is temporary."
"Temporary meaning they’ll change back?" I ask. "And this isn’t going to do anything else to me?"
He gives me a reassuring smile. "I don’t believe so. Your vitals are normal, you’re awake and responsive, and aside from your eye color, I’m not seeing anything that concerns me right now."
He leans a little closer. "This may sound like an odd question to an omega, but does anyone in your family have Alpha blood?"
My fingers curl together beneath the covers.
Twenty-one years should be enough practice for this question. Usually it is. I don’t know who my parents were, what they looked like or what kind of wolves they were. Today, for some reason, the words feel harder to reach.
"I wouldn’t know. I grew up in an orphanage." I loosen my fingers from the covers. "I stayed there until I was sixteen, when they let us go, so I don’t know anything about my parents."
The doctor’s brows pull together. "No family history?"
I shake my head. "Nothing that would help."
He seems to understand there isn’t anything else I can give him, because he lets the subject go and I’m grateful enough for that not to mind when he moves into doctor mode again.
"Try not to overthink it," he says. "Are you in any pain?"
"Not anymore. My head still feels a little heavy, but otherwise I’m okay."
He checks my eyes once more before putting the instrument back into his case. "Good. Get some rest tonight and drink plenty of water. I expect your eyes to return to their normal color once the suppressant is completely out of your system. If you notice anything else unusual, have Trey call me."
What if they don’t change back? Worse, what if my eyes aren’t the only thing that changed?
That thought leaves a cold feeling behind that no amount of blankets is going to help with.
The doctor gets to his feet, and Trey follows him toward the door. They exchange a brief look before disappearing into the hallway, leaving me alone with the two gargoyles.
I reach for the mirror again and turn my face slightly, examining the green from another angle. Never in my life did I think I’d wake up with a completely different eye color, but here we are.
With a sigh, I rub at my eyes with the back of my hand.
"They actually suit you."
I look up.
The gargoyle closest to the bed is grinning. "The green. A little creepy, but not bad." He holds out his hand. "I’m Nash." Then he gestures toward the other guy. "That’s Walker."
Oh. Those Nash and Walker. Trey mentioned them earlier.
I take Nash’s hand. "I’m Sadie. Nice to meet you guys."