Page 33

“It was fucked up, Carter.” Bellamy glared at her, fire suddenly flaring to life in his eyes.

“This woman who’s always trying to reserve me at the Icon Cafe—they set up a private date with her, but she was fully naked, on a table like some kind of fucking meal, her legs spread, ass on a plate , for fuck’s sake.

She told me to sit down and eat my dinner like a good boy.

” He paused, his hands shaking as his fingers detangled from his brown curls.

He looked like he was going to throw up.

“Novikov already warned me before I went in there that if I didn’t obey and make the client happy, there would be consequences.

I didn’t know …” He collapsed to his knees, hands on the ground, head hung.

“I had no idea this would happen. She’s already set up another date for Thursday night.

She said the punishment would be twice as bad if I screwed up again.

” He looked up at her, face contorted. “I couldn’t even tell my dad.

I can’t tell anyone. But you already know about this shit, don’t you? ”

Isobel nodded, daring to pry open her walls again. She knelt beside Bellamy, her hand on his shoulder, accepting his pain as she whispered to him.

“You’re going to have to make it public.

Turn this into something marketable, and they’ll switch tracks so fast your head will spin.

Tell the whole world that Sophia is your mate, that you’re sure of it, and don’t let her leave your side.

Do everything you can to convince them. Tell the officials this is their chance to study a pair of bond mates in the stages before the Death Phase.

Offer them alternatives that’ll make them even more money.

Like you and Sophia accepting private dates together—your fans will pay for that.

They’re obsessed with mates. They’ll want to know everything.

How it started, what it feels like, how you’re both so sure. ”

Bellamy was staring at the ground as she lifted some of the tension away from his shoulders. “What if they decide to force it?” he asked quietly. “Send Soph into her Death Phase by force? Test my theory?”

Isobel’s hand spasmed, and she drew it away from him. “Shit. I don’t know.”

“This might be your only option,” Niko said, gently pulling Isobel back to her feet.

Her legs could barely support her weight, and she slumped heavily back against him.

He moved the umbrella back over her head, and she didn’t have the energy to protest, even as the rain grew heavier, soaking Bellamy to the skin.

“There’s a crew,” Niko suddenly said, and their heads all snapped up to witness the small group hurrying toward them, trying to cover themselves and their equipment against the rain.

“Let’s go.” He lifted Isobel back into the cart, motioning Bellamy into the back seat, but the Beta shook his head, backing away.

“I already told you nothing’s fucking wrong,” he growled out as the crew drew nearer.

“Stop trying to poke your nose in my business, Sigma. I like you, we’re friends, but you’re messing in shit that has nothing to do with you.

” He spun on his heel, storming off into the rain.

The camera crew swerved to follow him, and Niko drove quietly back to the dorm.

He gathered her into his arms, rushing through the rain to the front door.

He stalked up the steps two at a time, pushing into her room and setting her on her feet, ducking to catch her eyes.

“I can’t stay,” he said. “The fucking crews are determined to catch something today. They’ll come right into your room if I stay in here after all that.” She nodded, and he pinched her chin. “One of the others will come and look after you. I’ll be back after classes.”

“I’m fine,” she promised. “Just … tired. I need to sleep. Go,” she urged, seeing him waver. “I really can’t put on an act for the cameras right now.”

He nodded, quickly striding for the door. It slapped shut behind him. She trudged to her bathroom and dragged a big, fluffy towel back to her bed so that she could collapse onto it in her wet clothes with a stiff groan.

A few minutes later, the mattress dipped, and she managed to turn her head. Theodore was slumped beside her, his skin ashen. She picked herself up in alarm. “You were already here?” He had come in too quickly after Niko left for him to have been anywhere else.

“Not feeling great.” He gave her a tight smile. “Came back after second period. Looped the cameras when I was in the hallway so they think I’m still in my room. Oh, stop it.” He read the look on her face. “You’re here now.” He frowned, breathing in sharply. “You okay?”

She shook her head mutely, and he gently pressed his forehead to hers before pulling back with a hiss.

“Shit, Illy.” He groaned, pressing a hand over his mouth.

He was feeling her nausea.

She huffed out a sound of disbelief. “I’m actually making you feel worse .” He couldn’t seem to answer; his eyes closed tightly.

She forced her stiff body to roll over so that she could dig her phone from her shorts. She swiped at the damp screen and opened the group chat again, sending another message.

Isobel: We may need some help over here.

Moses: Help is already on the way.

Isobel stared at the door, willing whoever it was to arrive faster … before she threw up all over herself.

Theodore groaned, breathing heavily through his mouth. “Why is it getting worse?”

“I took a little too much,” she muttered, blinking blearily as the door to her room opened and Moses strode inside, snapping it shut again. She thought he was just letting her know that someone was coming. She didn’t realise it would be him . He didn’t exactly scream “bedside manner. ”

He strode up to the bed, pressing his hand gently to her forehead. His skin was so wonderfully cold that she actually moaned weakly, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Dammit, Carter. You’re burning up.”

He lifted his hand from her face, leaning over her. “And so are you, Theo,” he added, almost angrily, pulling away from them both.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” she mumbled.

“If she starts, I’ll start,” Theodore warned shakily. “Jesus Christ, this feels awful. I don’t know how you deal with it.”

“You’re feeling it on top of the soul infraction,” Moses clipped out. “I need to move you away from her.”

“Then the soul infraction will feel worse,” Theodore groaned.

Moses paused, mulling that over. “Shit. Yeah, okay.” His cool hand brushed over Isobel’s brow, smoothing out the lines of pain. “We need to get that nausea under control, Illy. Is there anything that helps?”

“Passing out,” she moaned. “That helps. Knock me unconscious.”

“Don’t,” Theodore grunted.

“I wasn’t going to?” Moses shot back, incredulous. “Fucking hell, you two.”

“C’mon.” Isobel tried grabbing his hand. “Make it quick.”

“Stop it,” he scolded gently, pulling his hand away. “I’ll be right back. ”

She could feel him drawing away, taking his crushed-petal scent with him, but he was back before the next wave of nausea rolled over her, pulling her into a sitting position so carefully she could have been made of glass.

He pulled her shirt over her head and somehow had her sports bra off before she could even fathom what he was doing, and then a soft, overly large cotton shirt was dragged onto her body.

It smelled so strongly of Oscar that she was convinced he had gifted shirts to her wardrobe this morning without her noticing.

Shirts that he had slept in once or twice.

The scent was too strong for them to be fresh, though they still felt clean.

Her body slumped against Moses in immediate relief, and he gently laid her back, removing her sneakers and socks and tugging down her shorts.

He arranged her against the pillows, laying out a deliciously cold, wet cloth across her forehead.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing,” she groaned.

“I want to open my eyes and watch,” Theodore drawled, “but they appear to be welded shut.”

“Shut up,” Moses scolded, moving around to the other side of the bed. He seemed to be helping Theodore also move until his head was against the pillows, and then Isobel heard a grunt.

“Wow, that does feel amazing.”

“So cold,” Isobel agreed.

“I want a body-sized one,” Theodore said .

“I’m not giving you a sponge bath,” Moses snapped.

“Our nurse is mean.” Isobel pouted, not that Theodore could see it.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t give you one.” Moses tapped a gentle finger against her pout. She immediately caught his hand, slipping it beneath the neckline of Oscar’s shirt and pressing it to her heated chest. She sighed heavily. “Damn, that’s good stuff.”

“More wet cloths?” Theodore asked hopefully.

Isobel waited for the biting reply, but it didn’t come.

“Yeah, I’ll grab another one,” Moses said, slipping away again. When he drew near, Isobel finally managed to force one of her eyes to squint open, watching as Moses positioned a damp cloth across Theodore’s bare chest, his lovely, pouty mouth stuck in a worried frown.

When he was done, he returned to Isobel, holding out his hand to her. She slipped it back into her shirt, letting out a sigh of relief. Theodore hadn’t made a sound since he asked for another cloth.

“Theo?” she asked.

“He’s asleep.” Moses laid a steadying hand against her stomach. “He’s all right.”

She lifted the hem of her shirt and Moses seemed to know what she wanted, shifting his touch to her skin, his fingers spreading out. Her heart and her stomach. The two places she ached the most.

“I’m sorry about Sophia and Bellamy,” he said softly.

She looked up at him, but no words came to her. The storm in his dark grey eyes seemed tamed for now, giving her something to anchor to. She stared at him, filled to bursting with so many feelings that she couldn’t seem to feel any of them at all.

“They’re going to pay,” she whispered. “I’m going to make them pay.”