Darius Holt collapses on stage, rushed to Falville University Hospital.
Assault case reopened as murder investigation after victim's miraculous recovery.
Daniel slowly stood to his feet, watching how Owen's dark eyes followed his every move. He wanted to hurt this omega for abandoning his son, but he could not step away from Darius' side and then his gaze, drawn as if by a magnet, drifted down to Owen's midsection. The baby, his grandchild. He lifted his eyes to Owen's face again. "Where have you been?" The question came out incredibly harsh.
Owen flinched and even cowered slightly. That was a sign of abuse if Daniel had even seen it. Darius could not have abused him. The hurt had to run deeper in the past than that. "It doesn't matter." His voice was soft and nervous. "I'm here now." He walked around Daniel and sat on the bed next to Darius. After staring down at Darius' nearly lifeless body for a few moments, Owen reached up to the back of his neck and pulled off the suppression sticker there. He crumpled it in his hand and shoved it into his pocket as his sweet pheromones began to seep out into the room. He took Darius' hand from Daniel, placed it on his own neck, and held it there. Then he shut his eyes and breathed deeply.
Daniel took a step back, well aware that he was not needed anymore, but he returned to the chair in the corner and watched everything. As minutes ticked by, he noticed that Darius' breathing had slowed from its frantic pace and that the fever color was fading from his face. He allowed himself a shuddering breath of relief.
The doctor came in through the open door. "Mr. Holt, I–" She cut off as she saw Owen. "Who–?" She cut herself off again. "No, dumb question," she said as if to herself. "You're Darius Holt's mate?"
Owen looked up at her. He seemed to be debating recoiling from her presence, but he nodded in response to her question.
She checked Darius' vitals, and her face visibly relaxed. "You're doing the right things," she told Owen. "Keep his fingers on your pulse and continue breathing with a slow, consistent rhythm. You're releasing the correct pheromones to bring him back to homeostasis." She turned to Daniel. "He should recover quickly now. I'll be back to check in a couple hours."
Once she had left, Daniel leaned forward in his chair, drawing Owen's eyes to him. "Thank you." The gratitude felt dry in his throat. He did not want to thank the person who had hurt his son, but he had to thank Owen for returning to save Darius' life. "Thank you for coming back."
Owen's eyes immediately found something else to focus on. "I had to," he said softly.
"You had to?" Daniel questioned.
Owen swallowed and glanced away. "I could tell he was in pain. I can't tell you how I knew it, but I did. So I had to come back."
Daniel nodded, trying to show understanding. "Even though he lied to you?"
Owen flinched like Daniel had raised a hand to hit him.
"And you realize that this will happen if you leave him again?"
Owen lowered his head, and from Daniel's angle it looked like Darius' hand was choking him. "Yes," he whispered. "It's my duty, isn't it?"
Daniel tipped his head. "You don't love him?" His tone slipped into something bordering on dangerous.
Owen did not move or answer.
Daniel got up and walked over to the foot of the bed. "I want you to answer me, Owen. Do you or do you not love my son?"
Owen's shoulders hunched defensively, and it made him look so small. "I love him." It came out in the tiniest of voices. "I hate that I do, but I do."
Daniel lost his prepared response. That had not been the answer he had expected. "You hate that you love him?" How could anyone think like that? "Is it because he lied to you?"
Owen closed his eyes and pressed Darius' hand closer to his neck, his fingers laid on top of Darius'. "No, it's not him." He dipped his chin and kissed the back of Darius' wrist. "I love him, so I don't deserve to have him."
Daniel stepped around the bed and put his hands on Owen's shoulders, soothing the tense muscles there with gentle pats. "Who told you that you don't deserve him? He's the one who doesn't deserve you."
Owen's eyes opened softly, like the wet wings of a butterfly unfolding for the first time. "Do you really mean that, Mr. Holt?"
Daniel squeezed Owen's shoulders carefully. "I know my own son. He hurt you a lot. You shouldn't have returned, but you did. I don't think there's anyone on the planet who deserves you."
Owen stared out the window at the sunset. "You're right, but not in the way you think." He sounded so sad and resigned that Daniel wanted to do something— anything— to keep him from crying. "No one deserves this."
"What are you talking about?"
Owen looked over his shoulder at Daniel, eyes narrow with cautious fear.
How had Darius ever fallen in love with such a guarded person? Had Darius never wondered about what secrets Owen kept?
Owen softened his eyes, but his body was still tight with terror. "It's nothing, Mr. Holt." He was lying. What was he so afraid of?
Daniel went back to his chair, where he leaned his head back against the wall and slept, leaving Darius in Owen's hands. When he woke, it was dark outside. He sat up and sighed when he saw Darius.
Darius' breathing had synced to Owen's, and Daniel was pretty sure their hearts had also aligned with each other. Darius looked normal, like he was just asleep.
But Owen looked dreadful. His face was the one that was flushed now, and it seemed like he had lost weight even though it had only been a few hours at most. His whole body was shaking, and his head kept drifting forward in exhaustion.
Daniel quickly stood up and supported Owen from behind. "Owen, are you alright?"
Owen's eyes were unfocused like Darius' had been. "I feel awful," he whispered, his voice catching on the words like a sob.
Daniel reached over and pressed the call button. When the doctor and an attending nurse rushed in, he motioned to Owen. "There's something wrong with him!"
The doctor rolled her eyes and shooed the nurse back out into the hall. "No, there's nothing wrong with him. He's doing what he's supposed to and reversing the mate deprivation disorder. He just needs to stay there until your son wakes up." Then she was gone. No help.
"Is she even a doctor?" Daniel muttered angrily.
Owen laughed a broken, bitter laugh under his breath. "It's fine, Mr. Holt. I told you, I'm only here because of duty. It's my duty to heal my alpha, so why should she say anything else?"
"Don't." Daniel gripped Owen' shoulders tightly. "Don't talk like that. I've got you. Is there anything I can get for you?"
Owen shook his head. "I can't eat or drink anything. I don't want to throw up on Darius." His free hand reached out and brushed a piece of Darius' copper hair to the side. "Just don't let me fall off the bed."
"Don't worry," Daniel said, rubbing Owen's shoulders to provide some comfort. "I won't."
– – –
Noah peeled off his gloves and tossed them into the trash. A groan escaped his mouth as he ran his hand over his face. "I need a nap."
One of his resident friends, a beta girl named Chloe, hurried up to him. "Noah," she said, tugging on the sleeve of his scrubs, "aren't you friends with Darius Holt?"
Noah rolled his eyes. "I'm not setting you up with him, Chloe."
Chloe's lips tightened. "Noah, he's in the ICU."
Noah grabbed her shoulders, fear taking him by the throat. "What?"
Chloe jerked her head in the direction of the intensive care ward. "He's in room 37."
Noah let her go and took off at a run that immediately cleared the halls for him. When a doctor runs, people move. He pushed past an attending and was reaching for the door handle for room 37 when a hand wrapped around his arm and pulled him back with a sharp jerk. He whipped around, his glare slicing into the thin young man who had a hold of his arm.
He was in his mid-20s, with blond hair that framed his face like a golden waterfall. His face was thin enough that he was obviously underweight. He was not poor since he was dressed in designer from head to toe, so he probably had an eating disorder.
Noah blinked, surprised that his mind had elected to categorize and diagnose this stranger. He ripped his arm away. "My friend's in there."
The stranger smiled faintly. "It's under control now. It's best if you stay out. Just family's probably best, considering the situation." His voice was smooth, like fresh honey poured out of the hive.
"And what is the situation?" Noah questioned, staying even though his hand was itching to open the door.
"Mate deprivation disorder is what I heard the doctor say," the stranger replied calmly. "But you don't need to worry. Owen's taking care of it."
Noah's jaw dropped. "Owen? He came back?"
The stranger nodded, but his expression tightened in clear disapproval. His eyes were almost purely gray except for a ring of brown around his pupils.
Noah shook himself out of the hypnosis those eyes had somehow put him in. "Who are you anyway? A friend of Owen's?"
"If you want a name, you can call me Jeremy."
It was so obviously a fake name that Noah had to bite back the snapping words ready to shoot past his lips.
"And yes, I'm Owen's friend." A faint scent of pheromones coiled out from him as he leaned back against the wall, something like a breeze carrying the wild, heady perfume of a flower Noah knew but could not name.
"Are you like a friend friend or–?"
Jeremy smiled tightly. "When we met, Owen pulled a gun on an alpha that didn't understand the word no." He raised an eyebrow, and Noah recognized the significance.
Noah held up his hands. "I understand that word just fine." Then the first part of Jeremy's sentence smacked into his brain with horrible clarity. "Owen has a gun?"
Jeremy nodded.
So Owen really did have the power to blow Darius' brains out. Not at all disturbing.
Jeremy grabbed his arm when he reached for the door again, concerned for Darius' safety. Long, thin fingers wrapped around Noah's wrist, and the touch sent an electric shock straight through Noah's body, just as if Jeremy was a live wire. "He's not going to kill Darius. He's here to save him, despite everything." Jeremy shook his head, totally oblivious to Noah's increasingly gay panic. "He should have stayed away. Nothing good can come out of trusting an alpha."
Noah felt his whole being go still, like his instincts realized he was a threat to this strange omega by that logic. "We're not all bad," he attempted. Why was he even saying something like that? Sure, he was into omegas, but not male ones! It was not like he would judge other people for their preferences, but he had never, ever been attracted to these weak, fragile men. Fragility was for women; it suited them much better. He was not totally opposed to trying a one-night stand with a male omega like Jeremy, but he seriously doubted how fun it would be.
Jeremy scoffed, pulling his hand away from Noah's wrist like he too had become uncomfortable with their physical contact. But he pulled away slowly, his fingers leaving sparks in Noah's skin. "Sure, keep lying to yourself. Don't think I haven't met enough of your kind to not know better."
Your kind. Like Noah was part of a group of animals. He flushed against his will, and his face got even hotter when Jeremy smirked. Goddammit, why was that combination of insult and smirk so attractive? "I'm not interested in you like that. I'm straight."
Jeremy's smirk did not slip. "I've had plenty of 'straight' alphas fuck me senseless. Don't kid yourself. If I was tied up naked in front of you, you'd take me." He settled back against the wall. "I'm not naive, Dr. Callahan, so don't treat me like I am."
The door opened, and Daniel Holt stood there. "Noah," he breathed out like a prayer of thanksgiving. "When did you get here?"
"Just now," Noah replied. "How's Darius?"
Daniel motioned for him to come into the room.
Noah could not resist giving Jeremy a smug look as he stepped into the room and Daniel shut the door behind him. He raised his eyes to the bed, expecting to see a version of Darius that looked worse than the shell that had been walking around Holt Enterprises lately.
But Darius looked healthy, albeit a bit thin, and his crystal blue eyes opened as Noah watched. He stared up at the ceiling for a minute, likely disoriented, then his eyes fell down to the person sitting beside him. "Owen." His voice came out in a harsh croak.
Owen looked like the life had been sucked out of him. His face was hollow, his body was trembling, and his breathing was so shallow it was a miracle he had not fainted yet. But he smiled for Darius and cupped his face with pale hands. "I'm here. You're okay now."
Darius sat up, his eyes darkening as he took in Owen's condition. He glanced up at Noah.
Noah understood and quietly began taking Owen's vitals. The moment he felt Owen's irregular heartbeat, he looked at Darius in worry. "He needs rest and soothing. Now."
Darius wrapped Owen in his arms and lay down, carefully nestling Owen up against him. Crushed white pine leaked into the air as his pheromones wove a sort of cocoon round him and Owen.
Noah continued measuring Owen's vitals, relief coursing through him when everything started to stabilize. "That could have been bad," he muttered.
"No kidding," Daniel said from behind him. "That other doctor was just using him as life support."
"Why shouldn't I support his life?" Owen asked, his words syrupy with exhaustion. "I love him."
Darius' arms tightened around Owen. "I love you more, baby," he whispered, but Noah could still hear the words.
Owen gave the tiniest of whimpers and clutched Darius with a strength Noah had not thought Owen had. He buried his face in Darius' neck and then went still. He was not dead; Noah could still feel his heartbeat and hear his breathing, but he looked very dead.
"Pheromone hyperexhaustion," Noah murmured. "He's just burned out." He pulled a second monitor out of the corner, plugged it in, and attached Owen to it so he could hear the steady beep and watch his oxygen levels without staying crouched by the bed. He folded his arms and leaned back against the wall where he could see both monitors. "I'm gonna guess we'll be here a while." But he was glad to stay.