Page 40 of Claimed By the Psychos

Her sharp edges are a form of armor. That much is clear. And she's probably not thrilled about being in a situation where she has to ask a stranger, let alone someone she's decided is the enemy, for such a personal favor.

"Of course," I say, already moving toward the locked cabinet where we keep the controlled substances. "We have several options. Injectable forms are most effective?—"

"Pills."

I pause with my hand on the lock. "Injections work faster and last longer. If you're experiencing pre-heat symptoms?—"

"I want pills." Her voice is hard again, all the vulnerability from a moment ago vanished. "Ones I can take and dose myself."

I turn to face her fully, studying her defensive posture, the way she's positioned herself between me and the door like she's ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. This is about control. About not giving us any more power over her than absolutely necessary.

"Juniper," I say gently, "I understand you don't trust us. But injectable suppressants really would be?—"

"If you want me to trust you," she interrupts, her chin lifting in defiance, "this is how it starts. Pills I can control. Pills I can choose to take or not take. Not needles in my skin from people who shot my—" She cuts herself off, jaw clenching.

My mate.

That's what she was going to say. Felix isn't just her partner in crime. He's her mate in everything but the biological mark.

It's a reality that's existed long before she entered our world, and I tell myself I have no right to feel possessive. But feelings are rarely rational, no matter how much I'd like them to be.

"Alright," I concede, turning back to the cabinet. "Pills it is."

My fingers find the bottle I'm looking for, a month's supply of high-grade suppressants in tablet form. They're not as effective as the injectables, and they come with nastier side effects, but they'll do the job if taken consistently. I turn back to find her watching me with those too-smart eyes, cataloging every movement like she's memorizing it for later.

"These need to be taken daily," I explain, holding out the bottle. "Same time each day for maximum effectiveness, with food. Missing doses can cause breakthrough symptoms?—"

She snatches the bottle from my hand before I finish, our fingers brushing for just a moment. That familiar electric shock of scent recognition shoots up my arm, and I see her flinch from it too. She knows something's different about us, even if she doesn't understand what.

At least she doesn't attack me like she did Archer. A couple of those wounds needed stitches, but he refused. I think hewantsthem to scar, and I can't say I blame him.

"I know how suppressants work," she says, already backing toward the door.

"Juniper, wait." The words come out before I can stop them.

She freezes, every muscle tensing like a deer hearing a twig snap. "What?"

"Felix..." I choose my words carefully. "If he's experiencing any unusual symptoms, any reactions to the medications, you need to tell me. I can't help if I don't know what I'm treating."

Her eyes narrow to dangerous slits. "Felix is fine."

"Is he?"

The question is loaded with everything we're not saying. We're playing a game of psychological chess where one wrong move could destroy the fragile trust I'm desperate to build.

"He's surviving," she says finally, and there's something broken in her voice that makes my chest ache. "We're both surviving. We're good at that."

"I'm sure you are," I say quietly. I want nothing more than to tell her she doesn't have to anymore. That she never has to worry about surviving again, because now that we know she exists, we'll do whatever it takes to protect her. And Felix, even if it's torture knowing our omega belongs to another alpha. Because she loves him.

She turns to leave, but pauses in the doorway. "Thank you. For the pills."

The small thanks feels like a victory. A start. "Juniper?—"

"Don't." She doesn't turn around. "I came to you because out of all of them, you seem the least likely to use this against me. Don't make me regret it."

And then she's gone, bare feet silent on the concrete. Like a ghost.

Chapter