Page 59 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Thirty-Seven

Morgan

B ent over the sink in the stadium’s private medical office bathroom, shirtless save for my bra, I tried to wash my hair. It looked clean enough, but I was worried about the lingering stench—for Alijah’s sake.

Deciding I’d done my best, I turned off the tap and stood up. Paper towels were a piss-poor substitute for the fluffy clouds Kelsey kept stocked in my bathroom at home.

A glance in the mirror revealed a large, fresh bruise mottling my ribs. Turning, I spotted another on the back of my shoulder. Evidence that Garvey had crossed the line. Cal and Wyatt were going to lose their shit when they saw them.

A gentle knock sounded on the door. “It’s me.”

Alijah had returned from his emergency run to the nearest merch booth to buy me a clean t-shirt.

Throwing back the deadbolt, I cracked open the door. “Any luck?”

“Let me in,” he insisted, bumping his hip against the door. My work bag was slung over his shoulder. His arms were full of clothes and towels.

I moved aside, obscuring that I was basically half-naked, allowing him to slip inside before locking the door behind him.

Alijah dumped an assortment of Northport gear and towels on the counter, then hung my bag on the wall hook.

“There wasn’t much left,” he said, unzipping my bag to rummage through the side pocket where I kept my personal essentials. “But it should be good enough to get you back to the hotel. Reyhan grabbed your bag before he left in the ambulance with Amir.”

Taking one of the towels, I resumed drying my hair, trying to keep a leash on my simmering temper. I should have been the medical fellow taking care of Amir.

“She’s hysterical.”

That’s all Garvey had to say to turn my boss and most of the crowd against me. No one listened when I tried to explain what happened. Not Dr. McEwen or any of the other medical staff.

After telling Reyhan to call for medical transport, Dr. McEwen ordered me to return to the hotel and avoid contact with the team.

Banished. Excommunicated. Disgraced.

For acting in self-defense, for protecting my patient from a pheromone-addled alpha, for being harassed and belittled, for doing the right thing.

For simply being an omega.

Alijah turned, holding the travel bottle of scent-canceling spray, eyes widening as his gaze trailed from my cleavage down my bare stomach—but then he caught sight of my vomit-splattered jogger pants. He grimaced and turned away.

“Take those off,” he said in a tight, quiet voice. For a second, I thought he was looking away out of respect, but then he half-hissed, “I can’t stand it.”

He wasn’t protecting my absent modesty. Nor was he disgusted by the presence of the vomit on my pants, but rather, by what it represented.

What the university allowed to happen because of their negligence.

And the indignities to come.

The disciplinary hearings. A possible suspension. They might even fire me for using force against an alpha.

It didn’t matter who started it. I was the one who ended it. And if the antiseptic spray caused lasting damage…

A call to my lawyer was in order.

Thankfully, Quinton—one of Audra’s mates—was a pit bull in the courtroom, especially where our family was concerned. His tenacity was the driving force behind all the zeroes attached to my accident settlement.

I had no idea how many laws Garvey had violated. Assault, obviously. Probably an infringement upon an omega’s right to work, designation intimidation, and excessive use of alpha dominance.

Maybe Alijah recorded something damning that would strengthen the potential case.

Draping the towel around my neck, I took off my tennis shoes, which were miraculously still clean. Shivering as my sock-clad toes met the cold tile, I pulled off my pants.

They went in the garbage, along with my ruined vest and shirt, too tainted to bother saving.

Even if I somehow managed to clean them before flying home, the guys would probably burn them as a matter of principle. Something I’d rather avoid, given I already smelled like a bonfire of rotting wood, according to Alijah.

I reached for the sweatshirt on top of the pile of clothes, but Alijah gently interjected.

“Wait, spray first.”

Despite the surreal nature of the moment—standing in a sterile bathroom, stripped down to my underwear, being doused in scent-canceling spray—I couldn’t help but be charmed by Alijah.

The furrow of concentration between his brows, the even white teeth digging into his bottom lip as he worked his way across my back and down my arms, inch by methodical inch, determined to banish every offending wisp of Garvey’s burnt match scent.

Alijah stepped closer, giving my chest and neck a few tentative sniffs. His gaze veered toward my red, swollen wrist. A disgusted grumble sounded low in his throat. He whipped toward the sink, turned on the hot water, and grabbed a towel.

“I already washed,” I said, reaching for the faucet. “Besides, I’m going to shower as soon as we get back.”

“You’re not leaving here smelling like that .” There was a cold certainty to Alijah’s gaze I’d never seen before. “That asshole scent-marked you, and the spray’s not strong enough. It’s making me crazy. So just—just let me do this, okay?”

How could I possibly refuse?

First, he scrubbed me from chin to sternum until the scratchy weave of the towel left my skin a raw shade of pink.

Tender fingers guided my sore wrist beneath the steaming water. A pair of gashes ran along the side of my hand and up my forearm, courtesy of my collision with the supply cabinet.

It took three applications of liquid soap before Alijah was satisfied.

“Do you have anything for this in your bag?” he asked, dabbing a fresh towel across my injured wrist. “Pain cream, or—”

“How about a can of freeze spray?”

Face contorted with dismay, he shook his head and opened his mouth—preparing to unload on me—only to abruptly close it again and move on to drying my hair.

I decided to push my luck. “Are dream girls exempt from scoldings?”

“Hmph.” The pressure of his fingers against my scalp increased, rubbing harder for a few seconds before falling away. He gathered the used towels and dropped them in the trash.

Then he took a garish t-shirt with a graffiti-style Captain Tusker from the top of the pile and handed it over. “It’s a large.”

“Works for me,” I said, ignoring the sting of pain as I slipped my arms inside and pulled the shirt over my head. “Pants?”

He handed over a pair of roomy sweatpants. “Extra-large, but they have a drawstring. Figured we could roll up the bottoms or cut them.”

“As long as they keep my legs covered for the ride back to the hotel, they’re perfect.”

After tightening the drawstring, he insisted I put on a sweatshirt, placed a baseball cap over my damp hair, and sprayed me down a few more times for good measure.

“How long will it take to pack your things?” he asked, glancing at his watch.

“At the hotel?”

“Yeah.”

“Ten minutes or so. Why?”

Alijah swallowed, then said in a rush, “Cal booked us a flight, and it leaves in two hours. Said something about an omega code that allows for solo travel when threatened. Please don’t fight me on this. I think it’s the right thing to do, and—”

“Okay,” I said, slinging my bag over my uninjured shoulder and unlocking the door. “Let’s grab your things and get out of here.”

Alijah gave a startled jump and hurried after me. “But—but aren’t you going to… The boundary-stepping and toe-squashing. Thought that was bad?”

“For matters of opinion, not necessity. I was already planning to leave tonight.”

Holding up my phone, I showed him an incomplete flight booking.

“I was just waiting to see if you wanted to go with me. That code allows for a companion of my choosing.” Brushing my pinky against the side of his tense hand, I whispered, “And you’re the best choice.”

“Yeah, right,” he said with an endearing snort, walking toward a desk near the doorway, where his camera lay on top of its carrying case.

He picked it up and scrolled through recently captured images on the LCD screen—pictures of my red wrist and scratched arm.

“It’s because I’m the only choice right now. ”

“Perhaps,” I said, admiring his lean figure from behind. “But it’s a fact that you give the best cuddles.”

He turned around and unleashed a fearsome pout. “No fair! That was supposed to be my reward.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Cal booked us in first class.”

“As to be expected.”

“And I’ve never flown first class before,” he said, flipping through a few more photos. “So, I figured that since we’d be alone, we could spend the flight cuddling in exchange for this.”

Alijah pressed the play button on his camera and handed it to me.

Four full minutes of damnation unfurled. Watching the escalation of Garvey’s anger and physical aggression was worse than living through it. Only a few words made it through, all obscenities on Garvey’s part.

Reyhan’s terror bled through the screen.

I recoiled at my reckless behavior. It had seemed like the only choice at the time, but watching it from an outside perspective…

Why had I continued to put myself in harm’s way, despite knowing Garvey could throw me around like a ragdoll?

And then he did.

I chose to ignore how close my head had come to slamming into the corner of the cabinet.

And worst of all, the image of Amir struggling on the table behind me, making a few futile grabs before latching onto my arm and pulling me out of the way at the last second.

Trying his hardest to protect a fellow omega, just as I had done my best to help him.

It all looked so much more violent than I remembered, especially when I sprayed Garvey in the eyes.

And yet, it wasn’t enough.

“Should have kicked him when I had the chance,” I grumbled, returning the camera. “I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

“It was hell,” Alijah admitted quietly, disassembling his camera and tucking its components into the carrying case.

“But getting evidence is the best way for me to protect you. I can’t take down an alpha.

Had to keep reminding myself that you’re stronger than I am, more than capable of holding your own.

And he’d be breaking the law if he got angry enough to touch you… ”

Alijah heaved a deep sigh and zipped the bag shut.

“Don’t even want to know what Joaquin felt through the bond. I’ve never felt so angry. Or helpless. Watching him grab you, Morgan, I…”

He swallowed hard, moisture gathering in his eyes.

I wanted to embrace him, but then he’d insist on spraying me down again, and we didn’t have time for that.

So, I settled for pressing the toes of our shoes together instead.

“That video is everything , Alijah. Your quick thinking and courage will make it impossible for Garvey to escape legal repercussions. You’re my hero today—and don’t forget it.

” Leaning closer, I smiled up at him until I earned a bittersweet flicker in return.

“Now, can we get out of here? The sooner we get to the airport, the sooner you get your reward.”