“Mmm,” Cait groaned, her brows furrowed, her long eyelashes fluttering.
The darkness waned, her eyelids felt heavy.
A warm hand and tender hand caressed her shoulder.
‘Where am I?,’ she thought.Cait rubbed her tongue against her teeth; her mouth felt parched.
She must have slept deeply.Then it came back to her in a haze.
She is in a hospital, she was poisoned nearly to death.
‘Who is touching me?’ her eyes snapped open, gritty and heavy-lidded, as a familiar, deep voice cut through the fog of lingering sedation.
“Cait. Time to wake up properly now.” Owen said as he saw her eyes open.
“There you are. Drink.” he said as he brought a straw to her lips.
‘Holy shit, he meant those corny lines.’ Cait thought.
She took the straw into her mouth and weakly sucked.
There were nutrients or something in the water in the cup.
She gulped it down nervously as she studied his face.
She hadn’t realized his eyes were so dark blue.
She thought they were brown.
“Take a breath.” Owen said and chuckled.
“Want more?” he said as he watched her pupils dilate.
Cait nodded.
“Good girl..”
The tips of her pale ears turned red.
He lowered the cup again.
Cait latched on to the straw with her mouth again, greedily pulling on the straw.
She nearly choked as her eyes found the mark he was talking about the other day, it was eerily perfect, especially from being made with a human mouth.It was pretty substantial size, like the ultimate hickey.
His collar was open, his skin was dark and coppery.
The lines of athletic musculature were slightly visible.
His shirt was rumpled as if he had not been able to change it.
She wondered if he ever dressed casually, or if they made casual clothes even in his size.
Her eyes grazed down his neck to his collar bone.
Before she knew it she heard the bubbling sound as she hit the bottom of the cup.
]
Owen pulled the cup away, “Thirsty, huh?” Cait nodded again.
“You are not as much for words as you were the other day?”
“I just woke up.” she croaked her throat sore.
Cait’s brows furrowed as she rubbed her throat.
“What happened to me?”
“Withdrawal symptoms. The stuff you were dosed with is also a narcotic. You had seizures and had to be sedated, ” Owen explained.
“I forgot I was a princess and a junkie.” Cait said with a frown.
“Not like you chose any of that? Besides, even if you did choose it somehow,” Owen paused, thinking about his mother.
“Stigma doesn’t help anyone heal. Are you feeling less nauseated?” he asked.
Owen stood beside the bed, a stark silhouette against the pale gray wall.
He looked different.
Cait remembered it faintly, the hallucinations and then wanting to vomit and not being able to remove her mask.
Then it was too late and she was suffocating.
She shuddered.
“Not as much,” she said, her voice rasping.
“The mask is gone?”
“Yeah you don’t need it in this room anymore, you’ll have to wear oxygen outside in the ward,” Owen smiled at her.
He needed to lie to her for now, he was worried how she would take it if she knew.
Albert, Kieran and he had a discussion.
A long annoying one about it.
“Good, I think I have a fear of them now.” Cait said.
She looked at Owen.
Exhaustion etched faint circles beneath his cobalt blue eyes.
Underneath the fatigue was an intoxicating scent that clung to him, a potent mix of expensive whiskey and something uniquely ‘him’: lemons, chamomile, and honey.
It mingled with the fading notes of his soap and clothing.
If she could wrap herself up in the scent, she would.
In contrast, her own body scent felt thick and unpleasant in her nostrils, presenting a sharp citrus tang layered over something oily and medicinal.
“How long was I out?” she asked.
“Three days.” Owen answered truthfully.
She’d soon have comms back anyways.
He did not want the lies to build up.
“How do I shower?” Cait asked shifting her body, she felt the bite of pain as she moved.
It felt like getting punched and kicked in the stomach.
Her teeth bit into her lower lip.
Her eyes found all the bruises and punctures in her arm.
Other bandages littered her arms.
“You are fine, you can clean up after you eat, some actual food,” Owen said as he pressed a discreet button on her bedside panel.
Almost instantly, the door hissed open, and a silent dietician wheeled in a tray laden with food.
“Holy shit.” Cait croaked in surprise.
“Warn me next time you do that.”
‘I was too eager.
My dad is right, I did turn into a fool too.’ Owen thought as he gave her an apologetic look.
Eating that ration with Kieran days ago was too damn illuminating.
Never again would she be left without healthy options.
Cait’s breath hitched.
Before her lay a feast she’d never imagined the stuff in pictures: a thick, vibrant smoothie pulsing with protein powder, slices of ‘real’ meat – fragrant and glistening – alongside unfamiliar, jewel-toned vegetables.
A steaming mound of mashed orange root vegetable was crowned with sticky, melting white coating.
It was not the synth-meat protein logs, insect crackers, tofu cubes, and strange, leafy greens that completed her old diet.
Panic clawed its way up her throat.
“Owen… I don’t… I don’t know what all this is,” she paused, feeling humiliated by her lack of knowledge.
She had seen images in old recipe books of Maria’s cooking, but had never tasted the food or used chopsticks or a fork to eat it.
“I’ve never had this before. How do I eat it?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Duck, Carrots and sweet potatoes, with a blueberry acai smoothie.” the dietician said, his voice clear.
The doctors, her brother, and Owen all seemed to think that accessing this much food every day was easy.
What would they say about a can of Whey, Oat, and Maltose shake?
Owen moved with that predatory grace, pulling a chair close.
The mate bond thrummed between them, a taut wire vibrating with her fear and deep, aching sadness.
He picked up a spoonful of the sweet potato mash, holding it gently near her lips.
“Start small,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated through her bones.
“Tell me what’s got you feeling anxious..”
“How? Wait. You feel it too, don’t you?”Cait flinched, looking away from the offered food, focusing instead on the sterile ceiling.
Owen picked up the fork and picked up a small amount of sweet potato.
“Yes, I think so. I’m usually only exposed to discomfort when I choose to be. That’s why I find it problematic.”
“Oh? Sorry.” She ate the sweet potatoes, which were sweet with a little spice and an even sweeter topping.
“Not problematic in the way you think. I want to fix it.” Owen explained as he fed her more.
He waited for her, carefully about over feeding her.
Kieran had felt so guilt about pressuring to finish the smoothie.
“My Mother, Bette, or Yvette.” She choked on the name.
“She used to say the most awful things. About ‘Omies’. About ‘Megs’.” Each slur felt like a physical blow.
“She wasn’t a great mother. I vomited because I was upset. I hallucinated her voice.”
“That must have been awful.I don’t think you will hear that again.” Owen said, he speared some duck meat.
“I remembered something from my youth.” Cait said,
“You are pretty young to be saying ‘in my youth.” Owen said.
“What did you remember?”
Cait’s unsure gaze flickered back to Owen, filled with bewildered pain.
“She told me once… she regretted giving birth to a freak like me. Called me a freak. I hoped I wouldn’t… wouldn’t get a ‘big pussy’ that I should just go to the surface.” Her voice cracked on the vulgarity, the ingrained shame burning hot in her chest.
“She started losing her filter towards the end. I remember caring for her in the end, she told me she wished I was dying instead of her. Albert seems to want to talk about her.”
Owen’s expression hardened, a flicker of pure disgust crossing his aristocratic features.
He carefully set the spoon down.
“That,” he stated, his voice dangerously low, “is abhorrent. If you don’t want to talk about her, you don’t have to. Just tell him.” He leaned closer, his scent wrapping around her, strangely anchoring amidst the storm.
He sighed, a rare vulnerability showing.
“You are not the reflection of those who cannot love you.”
“You have quite the way of words.” Cait looked up with red rimmed eyes.
“I never understood the hatred. Especially of omegan women, especially.” she crossed her legs subconsciously the earlier words haunting her.
“Nature hasn’t been kind. As you probably know, female omegas are incredibly rare. They always were, after the ‘evolution’ shifted us. They are very precious to us.” Owen said.
He feed her some duck.
The look of surprise on her face was precious.
“As you know we can survive outside in the air. Our time apart deepened, so the ways we did things were different.”
“How so?” Cait asked, Owen stuffed another forkful in her mouth.
The flavours danced over her tongue, salty, sweet, crispy.
Nothing like synth-meat.
There was an oily taste, it was so pleasant.
“We revere women, they are our leaders. The old world humans were different. They were patriarchal due to the balance of sexes. Some couldn’t stomach females leading, especially Omega or Alpha females. Our males support and protect our mates. Betas? Often women are expected to work right after giving birth.” Owen’s lip curled slightly.
“No one wants to be at the bottom of the hierarchy.” Owen continued.
“But everyone lives underground. It is easy to feel like you are on the bottom of the hierarchy when you live at the literal bottom.” Cait responded.
Owen loaded up another fork, she looked at the drool pooling.
There was not much meat on the plate.
“Beta live below ground because they have to; dome ventilation can be compromised by fauna and storms. Toxic air dilution happens easier than you think.” Owen answered.
“Open.” he said as she bit on her lower lip thinking.
‘So are the domes dangerous?
Why would it cost so much and be presented as a privilege to live in them?’ she thought.
“So the relationship we have with Beta is naturally strained. They took out some of our leaders in protest. The Accords maintain that abandoning them is impossible, due to the need for gene diversity. Omegas making more Omegas, hoping for a female to be born. So the Alphas don’t die out.” Owen responded.
“So male Betas are a little bit useless.” Cait said, a weak smile forming on her face.
“Not exactly worthless.” Owen explained.
“Not as valuable as women. When they were told that, it did not go so well.” Owen said with a chuckle.
“So we stopped bringing it up. We farm the surface for them. Provide raw resources. But there are so many betas… and they targeted our queens.So mingling with their women to replace what we lost. And to replenish warriors. We will start having problems in a decade, even defending the cities and Traverse tunnels we have.”
She wanted to ask “From what?
But she realized she would have no idea what other kinds of animals were outside.
Whatever could evolve to survive something most humans couldn’t must be pretty nasty.
Cait absorbed this, the history lesson a stark counterpoint to the hatred she’d been fed.
“Is that… is that why my da-” Cait stopped herself; he wasn’t her father.
Cait licked her lips and continued.
“Is that why Benjamin, or whatever his name is… was trying to kill me? Because I am a female omega?” The question hung heavy.
Owen’s jaw tightened.
“We don’t know yet if it was just hatred… or if he was experimenting. Lord Rose sent investigators to your apartment. They found…” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully.
“Evidence suggesting multi-product exposure. That ‘man’ was there, Thwaites…We’ll discuss it when you’re stronger.”
Cait’s nostrils flared.
“Henry, was there. What?” The name tasted like bile.
“According to Kieran, he learned about it from the members of the guard. Henry tried to scam half your deposit from the manager. A pittance, but audacity…” Owen chuckled darkly.
” I nearly sent the manager of your building a gift.
The team sent there said she defended your honour.”
Cait’s fingers dug into the crisp hospital sheets.
Henry’s face flashed in her mind, smug, demanding his ‘share’ even as he’d abandoned her mid-collapse.
‘Fuck Henry and his grubby little hands in my pockets.
What was once annoying is now… infuriating.’
“He ranted that you’d have to pay him eventually,” he spat the words.
“He does not know who he is dealing with. If he bothers to try, Kieran wants to drag him to the surface for a week and let him die of exposure on a nice vacation.” Owen paused.
“I’d prefer to make him into a meat pancake.”
“Really.” Cait said, looking at the plate.
“I’d rather not see that. Henry is money motivated. If he catches wind, that man who pretended to be my dad will find out through him that I was found.” Cait responded.
Owen’s thumb brushed her knuckles, a grounding touch.
“Consider him handled. I will have someone look for him.” The promise hung cold and precise in the air.
Before Cait could respond, the door slid open again.
Kieran stood framed in the doorway, smoke-gray hair slightly tousled, sharp green eyes scanning the room.
His gaze lingered on Owen’s proximity to Cait, a flicker of unreadable tension tightening his fox-like features.
“Apologies,” Kieran murmured, voice smooth as silk.
“My father requests your presence, Owen. Urgently.”
“Really. I find the request part hard to believe.” he responded, sitting down the fork.
Owen didn’t move immediately.
His dark blue eyes locked onto Kieran’s, a silent conversation occurring.
Kieran wasn’t messing around.
Something must of happened.
He looked to Cait, reluctant to part with her now that she was awake.
“You going to say ‘Hello’ to your little sister?” Owen drawled.
“I’m okay.” Cait felt the mate bond vibrate like a plucked wire; Owen’s reluctance warred with duty.
“Hello, Cait. I will stop by later. Is that okay?” Kieran said, feeling slightly guilty.
He did not want to tell her what was going on, or even hint at it.
“Cait, I’ll be back.” his voice low but edged with steel.
“Eat, if you can. Don’t push it..” His thumb brushed her knuckles once, a fleeting anchor.
He had touched her whole body, but they were getting to know eachother.
Outside of her rut.
He looked at her once more before he strode past Kieran without another word.
The door hissed shut behind them, leaving Cait alone with the overwhelming feast and the oily stench of her own distress.
She stared at the tray.
The few slices of meat glistened under the soft lighting, mocking her.
‘Real meat.
‘ Something only surface elites consumed.
Her stomach churned.
Bette’s voice hissed in her memory: ‘Omies think they deserve the best cuts while Betas starve in the tunnels.
Greedy bastards.’
Cait’s fingers trembled as she picked up a fork.
She stabbed a piece of jewel-bright vegetable, purple, unfamiliar, and forced it into her mouth.
It burst with earthy sweetness, so vivid it made her eyes water.
Shame coiled hot in her chest.
‘Freak.
Failure.’ She swallowed hard, tears pricking her eyes.
This wasn’t sustenance; it was a test.
One, she was failing.
Outside, muffled voices filtered through the door, Owen’s voicel, sharp and impatient, then Kieran’s cooler, clipped response.
“…he insists ‘now’, Owen. The media leaks are accelerating.” A pause.
“They’ve connected Cait to the royal family. They are calling her the ‘The Silver Rose’. Footage of her is out, intimate footage from her old partner.”
“Son of a bitch.” she could hear Owen swear.
A loud bang vibrated the wall and vents.
Cait jumped, the fork clattering onto the tray.
‘Footage’.
Her humiliation, broadcast.
Henry’s face flashed in her head, smirking, vindicated.
She gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white.
The medicinal stench of her panic spiked, sour and cloying.
The door slid open again.
Dr.
Jameson entered, his cedarwood scent a gentle counterpoint to the tension.
He took in Cait’s untouched food, her pallor, the tear tracks on her cheeks.
“Ms. Agneau,” he murmured, his voice soothing.
“Don’t call me that….” Cait spat.
“Not again!” she started to cry.
“That identity belongs to a child who died because of my mother. My name is stolen…”
“Okay, Ms. Rose, your vitals are spiking.” He adjusted a monitor beside her bed, its soft beeps accelerating.
“Stress impedes healing. Especially with organ damage. Focus on what you can control.”
“Let others deal with it.” Dr.
Jameson said.
He lifted the smoothie glass, pressing it into her hands.
The chill seeped into her skin.
“Small sips. Focus on this.”Cait obeyed mechanically, the thick berry sweetness coating her tongue.
Dr.
Jameson’s gaze lingered on the door, where Owen and Kieran’s argument still simmered.
“The urgency… it concerns your safety. And Owen Thorne’s temper won’t help it.” Dr.
Jameson paused, choosing his next words carefully.
“Tell me.” Cait demanded.
“Ms. Rose. You see…ah!” Before he knew it the words spilled out of his mouth unwillingly.
Dr.
Jameson’s scalp tingled as he fought th “They found something else in your apartment. Not just toxins.” Cait’s breath hitched.
The doctor’s eyes held a flicker of pity.
“A recording device. Hidden in your bedroom wall.”
Cait choked on the smoothie.
Dr.
Jameson clapped her on the back softly and gave her a tissue from the box.
“G-Gods. He dumped me, before I ended up here. Now he’s betraying me?” she stuttered to the doctor.
“Ms. Rose, calm down.” Dr.
Jameson tried to calm her down.
‘”Fucking Henry Thwaites, and his grubby hands always digging for a payout,”‘ Cait remembered Maria’s word vividly.
She should not have doubted her.
She chewed on her lower lip.
‘Of course.
The breakup deposit scam was petty, pathetic.
But this?’ Her skin crawled.
‘He’d filmed us together.
All those awkward, fumbling nights where he’d blamed ‘my’ biology for his lack of skill.’
She remembered Owen’s hands on her.
Fumbling, but still somewhat skilled and caring about her.
Compared to the itchy and somewhat ticklish touch of Henry.
‘Why would he want to show that?
I was only able to get off on my own.
Oh gods.
Is that it?
Is he going to show that.’
‘Not enough for you and that Beta-Dom hole, huh?’ he sneered once, after she’d turned away from his clumsy touch.
‘Bet you need a whole pack of Alphas to even feel anything.’ The memory burned.
The insult hurt.
Now, he had footage.
Her nudity.
Her vulnerability.
He was failing, again and again, while whispering those filthy slurs.
And the world would see it.
They’d see an Omega ‘whore’, just like Mom always said they were.
Pity would drown her.
Worse, they’d pity ‘Henry’.
The poor Beta, driven to desperation by his unnatural Omega slut.
Outside, Owen’s voice sliced through the door, sharp as shattered glass.”You tell every news outlet that continues to broadcast it that I will pull fucking funding.”
“They will just think the royal family is censoring it.” Kieran’s reply was cooler, tighter.
“Father’s containment team is moving. But Henry Thwaites isn’t acting alone, somebody is hiding him or he’s laying low.”
Cait’s stomach twisted.
‘Benjamin?
Had her fake father orchestrated this final humiliation?
Or someone else?
Someone who wanted her smeared before she even claimed her name?’ she thought.
The citrus stink of her panic thickened, cloying and sour.
She gagged.
Dr.
Jameson steadied her shoulder.
“Breathe, Ms. Rose.” His cedarwood scent wrapped around her, a fragile anchor.
Its calming capabilities were a minor talent of his families.
“It sounds like Mr.Thorne won’t let it happen. Neither will your father.” He nodded toward the untouched meat.
“You need strength. Eat.”
Cait picked up the fork.
Her hand shook violently.
With a snarl tearing from her throat, she slammed it down, the metal clattering against the tray repeatedly.
‘Fuck Henry.
Fuck his footage.’ But the tears came anyway, hot and shameful.
The air thickened unbearably.
Cait’s distress bloomed around her like toxic vapor, sharp floral cutting through the antiseptic sterility, layered thickly with the cloying sweetness of Gardenias.
It wasn’t just scent; it was a physical pressure, a silent scream vibrating against Owen’s bond like a live wire.
“Oh, I get it. But my best advice is to ignore the provocation, then address and shame the behaviour. It’s very petty to publish intimate images and also illegal.” Dr.
Jameson tried to calm her down in vain as the conversation took place outside.
“If your father’s men were competent, why did they miss this and not tail Thwaites?” Owen asked, his voice booming through the wall and door angrily.
Dr.
Jameson inhaled sharply, his knuckles whitening on the edge of her bed.
His own calm cedarwood scent momentarily drowned under the onslaught.
“Hold on,” he rasped, his voice strained.
“Just hold on.” He practically bolted from the room, the door hissing shut behind him.
Kieran sighed loudly, “Don’t ask me. Michael and he have been lax. Michael has been so pre–” he was suddenly interrupted by the hiss of the door.
Dr.
Jameson’s voice cracked like a whip, raw and furious: “QUIET DOWN!”‘ The sudden roar silenced the corridor.
“Or take it elsewhere.”
“She is in there shaking! Unable to eat! Your ‘noise’ is stressing her out!”‘ Dr.
Jameson’s shout echoed, trembling with palpable rage.
“You were provided a room to handle your business in,so use it.”
Through the bond, Owen felt it, Cait’s terror spiking, a psychic sucker punch that stole his breath.
Worse, the scent clinging to Dr.
Jameson as he yelled.
That potent floral distress hit Owen like a physical command.
‘Protect.
Eliminate the threat.’ The primal compulsion roared through his veins, an ancient DNA-based instinct of a planet destroyed long before homo-habeus learned to use tools, and was undeniable.
Kieran looked at the two; her smell was fuming off the doctor, he noticed Owen swaying and the look in his eyes.
He snapped his fingers in Owen’s face.
“Pull out of it, buddy.” he said softly.
He wound up giving Owen a tight slap.
“Kieran.” Owen drawled, his face chittering at the end.
“Yeah Owen.” Kieran said, relief.
“Both of you calm down…now. Let’s go to that room and talk.”.
Owen snarled, low and feral.
Every instinct screamed to hunt Henry Thwaites down ‘now’..
To tear apart whoever paid him.
Kieran stepped back, his fox-like features pale, the ozone scent of his own shock sharpening.
“Containment is moving, Owen,” he insisted, voice tight.
“We need to talk elsewhere, about her.,”
“No.” Owen said.
He took a step toward the door, toward Cait, the bond screaming at him to soothe, to shield.
The scent pouring from her room was a siren call to chaos.
Dr.
Jameson reappeared, his face grim, clutching a syringe.
“Sedative,” he stated flatly, pushing past Owen.
“She’s hyperventilating.” Owen watched him go, the rage warring with helplessness.
All he could do was stand guard while the scent of her agony demanded blood.
Kieran hesitated only a second before slipping into Cait’s room.
The pheromones hit him like a physical blow.
The thick, cloying Gardenia sweetness layered over the sharp tang of floral distress.
He held his nose, his elegant features tightening.
“It’s a power, Owen.” he said quietly.
“Resist the urge.”
“Cait…I know it must seem like a lot. Embarrassing.” he began, his voice strained.
He flicked a switch near the doorframe; a second filtration unit hummed to life beside the first, whirring frantically.
It barely dented the oppressive cloud.
“We will track down every trace, it will blow over.” Kieran promised, his tone clipped but firm.
“This is a capital crime against the royal bloodline. Trust me.” He watched as Dr.
Jameson plunged the syringe into Cait’s IV port.
Her rigid muscles loosened instantly, though her breathing remained ragged, shallow gasps tearing from her throat.
Owen didn’t wait.
He strode past Kieran, his focus solely on Cait.
Ignoring protocol, he climbed onto the narrow hospital bed, gathering her trembling body against his chest.
Her skin was clammy, her scent screaming terror.
She was so light.
“Hey, hey,” Owen murmured, his voice a low rumble vibrating against her temple.
He stroked her arms, firm and grounding.
“Remember what we talked about” His thumb brushed a tear from her cheek.
“Those videos show you defying their pathetic stereotypes.” He pressed a kiss to her sweat-dampened hair.
“We will fix this. Quickly.”
“Kieran is right. It will be fine. Just give us time. I was over reacting out there.” Owen said.
He felt terrible.
Cait shook, this man she barely knew was being more of a lifeline to her than anyone had, it helped that she could curled deeper into him, her fingers clutching his shirtfront, a small, desperate sound escaping her lips.
“I know. I know.” Owen embraced her.
“We’re not going anywhere. You could sin against the world, and I would fight for you. So would your brother. You’re a victim, it won’t take much for people to see through anything he dares to say.” He gently patted her back.
“He’s right. We will never abandon you. This is not so bad. I bet you have a lot more embarrassing things to say about him.” Kieran joined Owen in calming her down.
He had also seen the contents of her comms.
“We’ll take care of it. You can’t do anything but lay here anyways.” Owen reached for the fork, spearing a piece of the glistening meat.
“But I can’t let him spread stuff about me.” Cait said, craning her neck.
Owen positioned the meat in front of her face.
“Eat, that’s what you can do.” he commanded softly, holding it to her lips.
She obeyed mechanically, her eyes wide and unfocused.
Kieran lingered near the door, his gaze shifting from Cait’s fragile form to Owen’s protective huddle.
Relief warred with urgency in his sharp green eyes.
“I see…” he murmured.
“Father and I will take point.”
Owen didn’t look up, his attention fixed on coaxing another bite into Cait’s mouth.
“You can do it,” he responded.
“Handle it. Don’t let him charge in and make a mess. ”
Kieran gave a curt nod.
“It is only right we handle the hunt,” he affirmed, his voice regaining its usual cool precision.
“The trail won’t stay warm.” He turned sharply, the door hissing shut behind him, leaving Owen alone with the scent of Cait’s fading panic and the slow, deliberate rhythm of his feeding.
Satisfied the hunt for Henry Thwaites had begun.
Owen held Cait tighter, his own hunger for vengeance simmering beneath the surface, banked only by the fragile trust in his arms.
She sighed softly as he held some food at her move.
She reached for the cup again.
He grabbed it and positioned the straw for her to suck.
Owen watched Cait’s throat move as she swallowed, her gray eyes distant, fixed on some invisible point beyond the hospital room’s sterile walls.
He wiped a stray droplet from her chin with his thumb, the gesture clinical yet possessive.
“You are going to be alright. I promise.”
“You hardly know me.” Cait countered.
“You sure you don’t want to run? You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” she licked her lips.
“I’m happy to be here. You will get better. We will get to know eachother. We have already connected.” Owen said as he picked up her small hand and put it on the mark she lashed.
Her scent was so seductive, even though she was so sick.
She was pretty.
Once she was better she would be most beautiful in the world.
She was like moonlight.
When Dr.
Jameson entered, Owen didn’t look away from her.
“She needs to bathe,” he stated, his voice clipped.
“Stress hormones. Days of filth. Do you want to try to shower Ms. Rose?” The doctor’s gaze shifted to Cait, seeking permission.
She gave a single, hollow nod.
“I’ll assist her,” Owen added, already moving toward the bathroom.
He didn’t wait for her agreement.
He just assumed the role of caretaker.
Cait stared at the curtains as Dr.
Jameson slid the flow regulator on the Intravenous site and the bags connected to her.
Closer to her neck where her central line was located he deftly unscrewed the luer lock and disconnected her.
“Are you alright with him helping you?” he whispered the question in her ear.
Cait stiffened briefly, Henry was going to be plastering it across the tunnel anyways.
“Nothing he has not seen,” Cait responded in a detached manner.
She was so stressed out and trying to hide it.