“Pull or press any of the cords if you change your mind. An Omega can help you with this.” Dr.
Jameson as he finished.
The IV lines were disconnected, the sites flushed, and a reprieve.
Cait nodded, “Got it. It’ll be fine.” she said.
Owen wouldn’t want to touch her like that again.
As much as she could use it.
She very well could not bathe alone, when she was on the bed she had monitors linked up to her pulse.
Plus, Owen was now linked to her?
She knew he was feeling dutiful.
Dr.Jameson returned with a bunch of supplies.
Owen frowned looking at the quality.
Cait looked excited, she had never used such nice soap and towels before.
They looked soft.
Owen was handed the fresh towels, soap, a brush, and a clean gown, all folded and pressed with military precision.
He did not know why the doctor did not like him.
But he could work around it.
He looked at the shorter omega, a polite smile on his face.
“Thank you, Doctor,” he said.
“She might have a bit of atrophy in her limbs, there is a bench for her to sit down on.” Dr.
Jameson advised.
“Use the cream afterwards, she has dermatitis.” He left the room to work with the other specialists.
Owen walked to the door and locked it.
Cait watched as he then stripped.
Her throat bobbed as the drool filled her mouth.
His body looked hard, his skin was bronze and had this perfect shimmer to it.
He might have less body fat than she did.
His muscles were defined and corded.
He was a naturally broad man, but his waist tapered into a firm eight pack.
His belly button was shallower than Henry or even her fathers.
Cait’s jaw hung open as she watched.
Such an everyday act seemed sultry when he did it.
Maybe it was because her damned coping mechanism to stress was ‘self entertainment’, and she had been thinking about it since learning about Henry’s ‘tell all’ and what nude holos would be out there of her.
Owen was neat, he folded shirt first.
Her heart raced as she heard his buckle unclasp and he unspooled his belt.
She was so grateful he had turned away from her.
He unzipped and lowered his pants, his underwear following the same process and methodology.
They stacked neatly on the counter.
She shut her mouth as he turned.
Naked, he approached the bed.
Cait’s heart pounded.
‘Nude just like that?
Nudity must be a norm.
Keep calm, Cait.’ Cait thought and looked down quickly.
He’d not want to do the things with her that she wanted.
She looked at her own hands.
“Do you have a fever?” Owen asked, her cheeks were burning red.
“No, I am not used to unabashed nudity.” Cait said as she averted her eyes.
“Oh.” Owen said, a small grin hooking his lips.
“What did you expect when I said I would help you shower? We have already..” Owen explained before she chirped.
“Shut up.” Cait said, the tips of her ears were turning red from blushing.
“I know, I am not used to seeing a body like yours.” Cait immediately wished she could take the words back.
A warm feeling filled Owen, he was unsure whether it was her praise or something coming through her bond.
It was hot and whirling, apprehensive yet excited, and it made him smile further.
“How did you think I would help you shower?” he asked.
“I thought you would watch, or I would sit down on something.” Cait said.
She had an immediate flash back to their first shower.
The sweet relief as she lowered herself down.
Hot tingling ran down her spine and down through the core of her, pooling like a syrupy whirlpool in her core.
“Doctor Jameson mentioned that you might have atrophy in your legs. You have been lying mostly still for days, I will hold you up so you can shower upright, instead of a wipe down in bed. You can lean on me, or use the bench.” he said, lifting her brittle little frame effortlessly before the feeling kicked in.
He was glad she was in the air.
“You could have explained that before you took off your clothes.” Cait said.
Her head lolled weakly against his chest.
“Okay, I will ask next time.” Owen said, immediately complying.
“I haven’t been around many women.” he admitted.
Owen was still very new to the process of having an intimate relationship.
He and Kieran had never been intimate.
They both were still young and not into touch.
The only females he had been around were Alpha and his mother.
Kieran had a similar disinterest in romantic or even physical touch.
“It’s okay. I will need help. I don’t like bed baths.” Cait explained.
“Maria gave me one when I was first sick.” Cait explained.
Now that she knew what was causing her illness, she felt bad for the trouble she was when she had woken up.
She remembered being delirious and punching Maria in the face.
Luckily Maria was understanding.
“Ah.” she winced and quietly groaned.
She felt like glass beneath his hands.
She noticed the pain first in her mid-section.
Without the narcotic in the medication blocking out the pain while killing her.
She had felt pain before, she held in the discomfort focusing on this area of his neck.
The scent was intense, she wanted to burrow her head in the crook of his neck.
“You okay?” Owen stopped and asked., he had briefly jostled her.
“Just a little sore.” Cait explained.
Owen’s giant hand cupped her buttocks as he opened the bathroom door.
His fingers were big, she could feel the heat of his hand against the sensitive flesh.
The bathroom was bigger than her bedroom back in the Burrows.
Her former bedroom.
She looked over in relief.
There was a bench in it to sit down.
Owen adjusted the taps.
“Please tell me we can use hot water this time?” he asked, recalling her preference during the rut.
It must have been the fever.
She smiled and laughed, he was ecstatic to see it.
“Yeah.” she cackled.
“It helped with the heat. I have not had a warm shower in years.” she explained and smiled.
He looked down on her in his arms, her laugh was adorable.
He tried to feel optimistic, knowing that she could feel a connection to him, and he one with her.
‘I am the first in the world to be able to share emotions with another person and it is a biological mate.
She will guess proof on presents and I will know if she is mad at me.
The anxiety is pretty rough, but we can fix that.” he thought, his heart filling with a warm optimism.
‘If I am just optimistic and hopeful, she will feel it too.’
He felt her stress through this bond as if it was his own.
It was gnawing at his insides.
‘Well get you through this, healed.
I will try not to be selfish about you.’ he thought.
He was raised in privilege.
He seldom felt sad or unloved.
He had hang ups and his issues.
They stemmed mostly from the lack of a relationship with his mother.
She came around every four months or more for his fathers ruts, and that was basically all he saw of her.
It was at her behest that father sent contract omegas to him.
“Thank goodness. I do not deal well with cold.” he retorted.
It was rare to get to ‘feel’ for someone in his position.
Contract omegas were more common.
Not many women lived traditional lifestyles.
Cait was from a Noble house, a phenomenon found in few places.
He had not come in contact with the old feudal system until he came to Alba on exchange for a proper education away from the political elite at home.
Owen set her down on the bench and turned.
“You performed well last time. Do you need a cold shower, Owen?” Cait teased.
He smiled, stopping to a halt and turning.
He scratched the back of his neck.
“No. Hot is better.” Owen said, looking at the at the cheeky grin on her face.
He could feel a warm bubbling feeling.
She was amused.
“You are going to get pretty wet. I will go get the towels.”
Cait laughed.
It was almost musical.
“Nice double entendre.” He was very cheeky, he knew he looked great, or he was just over confident.
She watched him leave her eyes falling to his round peach like butt.
The holos were inaccurate or he was just beyond imagination.
Like a carved sculpture.
She licked her lips.
She knew she should not be feeling like this.
‘For the sake of the gods, Cait, you are a patient,’ However she had done things, at the beginning of the month.
She swallowed, her throat bobbing as he entered.
It was tempting to just reach out and grab.
Cait was beta raised, she had none of the mannerisms of female omegas.
He had to protect this one chance.
Even though it would be annoying and tricky to deal with Albert.
Owen tried not to grin.
Everyone wanted things from him, now as his throat bobbed, he knew what she wanted was only him.
It was clear.
But he couldn’t.
Everyone wanted something from him, because of his lineage and wealth.
His mother and father wanted to set him up with a contract omega to have his child and come for his ruts.
He did not want what his parents ‘had’ with a girl like his mother.
A girl too scared to leave the privilege of her natal home, even though it was killing her on the inside.
He would take it slow.
Win her heart and trust.
Make sure nobody used her.
“Need help standing up?” Owen asked.
“Yes, please,” Cait murmured assent.
He pulled her to standing, adjusting his hips to be polite.
His body was the only warmth now that she had been stripped.
She shivered in the cool air of the bathroom.
She felt him hook his arm around her waist as her wasted muscles trembled and shook from the sudden use.
She stumbled and leaned against his chest, gripping on to him.
“It’s okay, grab wherever you want to.” Owen teased as he peeled the soiled gown from her.
“N-No, just exhausted. A little stressed.” Cait said.
“Just a little stressed, huh?” Owen retorted, his tone gone neutral.
He was grateful she wasn’t looking at him.
It was a sad sight.
He knew he did not pay starvation wages, but she looked like it.
‘How could her ex-boyfriend let her get this thin?’ Owen wondered.
‘How could anyone bear to do this to someone they were supposed to care about?’ He tried to control his feelings.
‘Feel ‘optimistic’ about her gaining weight, look forward to tracking down Henry Thwaites and think how happy you will be when you turn his mouth into mush.’ He coached himself.
He typed in the temperature and tossed the soiled gown in the sanitizer cabinet.
Cait was unaware of the storm.
She felt a sync with him, as if they were feeling the same things.
She looked at the mirror.
‘Do I really look that bad?
Is the old mirror in my apartment warped?’ She had not seen her reflection.
“Owen’s touch was gentle and methodical, sponge gliding over her back, shoulders, and the hollows of her hips.
“Don’t let what is going on bother you too much. I have weathered storms somewhat like this. Nobody from our world will look down on you.” Owen said as he worked.
“You need to keep eating. I know it must feel uncomfortable, I have a dietician working on making the omegaplex more tolerable. The blueberries must have been nice.”
“Yeah.” Cait rasped, she was too embarrassed to say she hadn’t tasted a ‘blueberry’ before.
“Ngh.” Cait’s breath hitched when his fingers brushed the sensitive flesh of her sides.
She pressed her head against his chest, her heart pounding.
Then she saw it.
Dangling like a ripe luscious fruit in a picture.
“Are you okay?” Owen asked.
He felt the heat of her forehead and cheeks as he stood helplessly.
“Yeah, I am okay.” Cait answered slowly.
Cait’s face turned deep red as she felt the heat pool more, she knew he would not be able to see how this was affecting her.
She had been trying to be on her best behaviour and do what was right for her body.
He felt it as her hand drifted down, palm sliding over the hard curve of his hip, then lower.
He smelled it next, the cloying floral scent that had sunk its hooks into his brain that night.
Owen froze in disbelief as her fingers traced the length of his cock, already half-hard from the scent of her.
A shuddering gasp ripped through him.
“Cait,” he warned, voice strained.
“You can’t.”
Owen regretted warning her as she seemed to take it as a challenge, her hand wrapped around the girth of him and tightened, stroking slowly.
Owen gritted his teeth, his control fraying.
She was an omega bonded to him.
Her arousal thickened the air, floral cloying in his nose.
A demand that he was trying to ignore came through their ‘connection’ like a punch in the face.
He caved.
“Hold the handles, I don’t want you to fall.” he improvised, guiding her hands to the safety bars.
“If you do, fall on me. I will catch you.” Then his mouth descended on hers, not for a kiss, but to trail down her throat, her sternum.
His fingers worked the hot and slick flesh of her folds gently.
Her cries came out softly when he found the right rhythm and her little bud hardened.
He took a nipple between his lips, biting just enough to make her gasp.
Goosebumps bloomed across her skin.
“Is that better yet?” he asked.
“We can go further.”she said hand grabbing for him again like she was rut addled again.
Owen shook his head.
“We can’t do ‘that’,” he said.
He planned it out.”Okay, sit on the bench.” Owen steered her towards the bench.
Not wanting to risk the fall.
“You will like this.” he said as confidently as he hoped.
He had not had the relevant training or schooling.
He had refused.
The truth was he only knew the concepts through videos.
Kieran exchanges fulfilled the physiological component of the exchange, but he handled ‘himself’.
Like in the holos he watched.
He knelt, lifting her legs over his shoulders.
The water sluiced between her thighs as he buried his face between her legs.
Tongue flat, he licked a slow stripe up her slit, then circled her clit, blowing softly before sucking it into his mouth.
And at that moment he had lost any hope he had at winning against her.
The concentration of pheromones was so intense that it was sweet.
Cait’s moan was muffled by her own hand, fingers twisting in his hair.
He drank her down,her taste was like honey flooding his senses.
His grip on her ass tightened, fingers digging into flesh as he worked her, sucking, slurping, relentless.
She bucked against him, muscles quivering.
She choked on gasps.
When she came, shuddering into his hand, Owen didn’t relent.
He pressed three fingers inside her, pumping deep.
The stretch combined with his redoubled efforts with his mouth and the lewd moans he made was inebriating.
Henry was never this generous, not even on his best days.
Cait’s fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him up.
Her eyes were fever-bright.
He did not want to stop pleasuring her.
He was turgid and with desire, she could see his pulse in him.
“Okay. Your turn, Owen.” Her voice was hoarse, commanding.
“Stand.” she said.
He stood.
She took him into her mouth.
Owen gasped.
“Cait… you can’t,” he choked out, hands flying to her narrow waist.
“You’re too weak.”
“But I am doing it, Owen?” she said breathily, biting her lip.
“Move,” she whispered, her voice thick with need and exhaustion.
“Or are you just going to look at you disappear into me.” Then she stuffed into her mouth taking him deep.
The visual, her cheeks bulging out, her hands stroking made him weak in the knees.
She was using her mouth on him, the feeling of her tongue swirling around.
“Cait.” his voice rumbled, “Ngh. Stop. ” Owen cried out, fingers digging into her hair.
Owen couldn’t hold back now, he willed himself to be careful.
He felt the pull of his primal self, usually he did not come out unless he was fighting.
But he had felt that aspect of himself rise with her twice now.
He did not want to lose the hard earned respect from the medical staff.
It was like he was possessed around her, no better than an animal.
Owen bucked.
Cait whimpered, her hands moved frantically, her fingers curling against his shaft.
Owen trembled beneath her, overwhelmed.
Then she hummed.
“Oh.” Owen groaned, his control shattering.
He saw sparks behind his eyelids as she pulled the orgasm right out of him.
He was lost, utterly consumed, floating in a nirvana of pure sensation.
Cait slumped forward, her forehead resting against his abs, her breathing ragged and shallow against his skin.
She spit out his seed.
She wiped her face with her arm.
Exhaustion radiated from her slight frame, a profound weariness that went bone-deep.
She grabbed the soap and lathered herself as if the deed had not occurred.
“Hey.” Owen said.
He bent down and pressed a kiss to her damp temple, inhaling the mingled scents of their release and the sterile hospital soap.
He rinsed her clean.
“Cait,” he murmured, his voice rough with spent emotion.
“We should probably take it easy, and not get carried away.” Owen said as he stood on shaky legs, turning off the water.
“Yeah, sorry. It was just a coping mechanism. Free stress relief.” She explained and stopped.
The sudden silence felt heavy, charged.
They both wanted more.
She could feel it, he could too.
He wrapped a towel around her.
“I will dry you, and we’ll do a braid.” Owen explained.
“Do you have much experience braiding?” Cait asked.
“I did crafts. You brother and I made friendship bracelets when we were fourteen.” Owen retorted.
Cait snorted as he dried her.
“Wow, is there some special camp you went to?” she asked.
“Up.” he said, gesturing.
He lifted her again, cradling her against his chest, her head lolling weakly on his shoulder.
He wrapped her in a thick, soft towel, blotting her skin with meticulous gentleness, avoiding the stark lines of her ribs, the hollows beneath her eyes.
He dried himself quickly, mechanically, his gaze never leaving her face.
“Yes there was. I make a mean friendship bracelet.” he joked.
A cough rattled her frame.
He pressed his wrist against her underarm gland, carefully controlling the flow of pheromone.
“You doing alright?” Owen drawled in concern.
“I am okay, I can hear you holding your breath,” Cait said quietly.
Her eyes were closed, lashes dark smudges against her pale skin.
He dressed her in the clean gown, the fabric swallowing her frail form.
He dressed her in a soft, beautiful cashmere lshawl that somehow appeared in this room.
She truly had no idea how much time had passed.
When he lifted her to carry her back to the bed, her hand weakly clutched the front of his robe.
“Owen,” she breathed, her voice barely audible.
“Don’t… leave.”
He paused, looking down at her.
Her gray eyes were open now, wide and strangely vulnerable.
“I don’t plan to,” he stated, his voice low but firm.
He settled her onto the crisp sheets, arranging pillows behind her back.
“I have to brush your hair, or it will get tangled” he continued, retrieving the brush from the counter.
“. We need to put on all these special moisturizers.” He gestured towards the array of lotions Dr.
Jameson had left.
“You’ll dry out. Fun right?”
‘This is torture.
I definitely want more than that.’ she thought as his hands scooped up her wet locks and towelled them.
She felt goosebumps form as he combed and his fingers sectioned her hair.
Cait watched him, a flicker of something unreadable in her mercury eyes.
“Okay, sounds fun” she whispered.
She sat passively as he moved behind her, gathering her damp silver blonde hair.
The brush strokes were slow, deliberate, starting from the ends and working upward, untangling knots with infinite care.
She wasn’t used to being taken care of.
Not like this.
Not with such focused, silent intensity.
Her shoulders remained tense beneath the thin gown.
“Owen?” Her voice was thin.
“Tell me…about yourself. You only talk about me, I feel bad.” His hands stilled for a moment on a stubborn knot.
He resumed brushing, the rhythmic motion steadying him.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.
“Anything,” she murmured, leaning back slightly into his touch.
“What do you like? What do you hate? How did you meet my brother? Anything…really.” Cait asked, she was in a ‘relationship’ with him now.
She had thumbed at Cohabitational paper work for him.
She had only done that with one other guy.
Owen focused on separating her hair into three sections for a simple braid.
“I paint,” he said, the admission feeling strangely raw.
“Watercolors. Landscapes, mostly. I love camping, and the wilderness. The sounds of cicadas and a blazing hot bonfire with fresh roasting meet.” He began weaving the strands together.
“I dislike beets, purposefully loud noises, presumptuousness, selfishness, and incompetence disguised as confidence.” He secured the end of the braid with a band from the counter.
“I have a passion for plants, I grow bonsai trees, such temperamental creatures, but zen.” he remarked, stepping closer to her.
He picked up a jar of unscented moisturizer, his fingers deftly dipping into the cream.
As he warmed it between his hands, the velvety texture began to melt, and he gently smoothed it over her cheeks and forehead, consciously avoiding the dark circles that lingered beneath her eyes.
His touch was both clinical and tender, a delicate balance of professionalism and intimacy.
She watched as his hands moved to apply the cream to her arms, warmth spreading in their wake.
“Oh yeah,” she breathed, a flicker of her dry sarcasm returning, lacing her words with a teasing edge.
He diligently applied the moisturizer to her limbs.
She relaxed, sapped of energy.
Cait stared at him, warmth flooding her cheeks despite her exhaustion.
“Nobody has ever cared for me like this, unless they were made to.” she murmured, her voice laced with a husky undertone.
Cait slumped back against the pillows, exhaustion hitting her like a physical blow.
The frantic energy that had stirred evaporated, leaving her trembling and hollow.
Her skin felt tight, stretched too thin over her bones, yet paradoxically heavy.
A deep, gnawing ache pulsed low in her belly, different from the poison’s burn – a profound emptiness, a craving that went beyond Owen’s touch.
She felt… ‘unfinished’.
Her rut had ignited a furnace inside her, a primal demand her frail body simply couldn’t meet.
Her body was screaming for sustenance, for more.
But she felt like she was starving for it, like some whore.
Cait closed her eyes, the metallic taste of her own blood faint beneath the lingering sweetness of Owen’s kiss.
She felt ashamed, she was ready to spend the rest of her life with another man only days ago, but that dream was over.
Owen watched her, the flush of arousal rapidly replaced by a chilling pallor.
He saw the tremor in her hands resting limply on the sheets, the unnatural slow rise of her chest beneath the gown, the way her eyelids fluttered weakly.
He decided to put the PABO concentrate on her and circulate his pheromones with her when she fell asleep.
‘She needs all the help she can get, and I have a lot to give.’ He thought.
It felt good to help her, he had given up helping years ago.
Cait’s body was desperately trying to rebuild the foundations it had never properly had.
He reached out, his fingers brushing hers on the sheet – a silent apology.
Her skin was warm.
She needed to heal.
Was this a result of longing since her first estrus?
The scent of her need was still prevalent.
That deep, visceral pull remained, as siren song he wasn’t sure he could resist, but would have to.
Was this an ability?
If she was able to ensnare brains with her pheromones, even if it was just alphas and lust.