She shifted closer, closing the careful distance we’d maintained. Her scent enveloped me, pregnancy hormones mixing with her natural sweetness and so uniquely Rhea that had driven me to madness and back. I wrapped an arm around her carefully, mindful of her comfort and the precious cargo she carried.
“Tell me what else Dr. Mira said,” I prompted, needing to know every detail, every risk, every possibility I needed to prepare for.
“She wants to do more frequent ultrasounds. Weekly, maybe twice weekly as we get closer. She mentioned the possibility of bed rest if the twins continue growing at this rate.” Rhea’s hand covered mine on her belly. “And she wants to test your blood against mine, something about compatibility markers affecting the birth.”
“Whatever she needs.” I pressed a kiss to her hair, breathing in her scent. “I’ll clear my schedule for tomorrow. The council can wait.”
“Damon...” she started to protest, but I cut her off gently.
“No. I’ve let politics keep me from what matters for too long. Tomorrow, you and the twins come first. The pack will have to understand or challenge me for it. I don’t care anymore.”
She relaxed against me, and I felt some of her tension ease. We lay in comfortable silence, her breathing gradually evening out as exhaustion claimed her. But I remained awake, mind racing through everything Dr. Mira might find, every risk we might face, every contingency I needed to plan for.
The room grew cooler as night deepened, and I pulled the blankets higher over Rhea’s sleeping form. She murmuredsomething, pressing back against me in unconscious seeking of warmth. I curved my body around hers, protective, and finally felt my own exhaustion winning.
“Everything will be fine. I’ll make it fine.” My last coherent thought before sleep claimed me.
“You can’t fix everything through sheer will, Damon.” Her sleep-whispered response suggested she wasn’t as unconscious as I’d thought.
But I was already drifting, pulled under by the first real rest I’d had in two weeks. Which is why I didn’t immediately notice the strange sweetness creeping into the air. Why the unusual heaviness in my limbs seemed like natural exhaustion rather than chemical interference.
A musky scent began to fill the room, and Rhea’s breathing turned shallow. But I was too tired and exhausted to be awake or to make sense of what was happening.
38
— • —
Rhea
The earthy scent crept into my dreams first, turning comfortable darkness into uneasiness. I surfaced from sleep slowly, fighting against heaviness that wanted to drag me back under. Beside me, Damon’s breathing had gone too deep, too even, not natural sleep but chemical. My wolf growled beneath my skin uneasily as the musk intensified, coating my throat with each breath.
The bedroom door opened without a sound. Only the sudden draft of cooler air alerted me, that and the foreign scents that shouldn’t exist in our private space. My eyes wouldn’t open properly, weighted down by whatever filled the air. Shadows moved at the edge of my vision, multiple figures in dark clothing, faces hidden behind masks.
“She’s fighting it.” A woman’s voice, muffled by fabric but familiar. “Increase the dose.”
More scents flooded the room. My lungs burned with it, each breath pulling me deeper into drugged compliance. I tried to reach for Damon, to wake him, but my arm moved like it was trapped in molasses. A weak sound escaped my throat, not quite a word, not quite a whimper.
“Shh.” Gloved hands touched my face, almost gentle. “Don’t fight. It’s easier if you don’t fight.”
“D-Damon...” His name came out slurred, barely audible.
“He can’t hear you.” Another figure approached the bed, larger, movements careful and professional. “He won’t hear anything for hours.”
Hands slid under me, lifting with surprising ease. My body wouldn’t respond to commands, limbs heavy and useless. My head lolled against someone’s shoulder as we moved through the compound. No alarms sounded. No guards challenged our passage.
Whoever had orchestrated this had inside knowledge, had planned every detail. The scent followed us, ensuring I stayed compliant, but underneath it I caught other smells, rogue wolves, gun oil, expensive perfume.
Fresh air hit my face as we exited the building. The night was cold, sharp enough to cut through some of the drug fog. I forced my eyes wider, trying to memorize details, anything that might help later. A van waited in the service area, engine running, back doors open like a hungry mouth.
***
Consciousness returned slowly, like swimming up through thick honey. My head pounded and my mouth tasted of copper and chemicals. The first thing I noticed was cold. Metal chains around my wrists, concrete floor beneath me, air that carried dampness and decay. My eyes wouldn’t focus properly, everything was blurring at the edges.
The twins’ movement felt sluggish, and panic shot through the drug haze. I tried to sit up but the world tilted violently. Wherever I was, it wasn’t the compound. No familiar scents, no sounds of daily life. Just dripping water and the scratch of small creatures in the walls. An abandoned building, probably at the territory’s edge where even patrols didn’t venture. My throat burned when I tried to call out, the sound emerging as barely a croak. Someone had drugged me, taken me from Damon’s bed while he dealt with pack politics.
“Finally awake, are we?” Lucinda’s voice floated from the shadows, cultured tones at odds with our surroundings.
“What... where am I?” The words scraped past my raw throat.
