Page 17 of His Reward (Omegas After Dark: Omega Auction #2)

CHAPTER NINE

Lucien

Pain. That was the only thing in my awareness for I don’t know how long.

The pain was unbearable, excruciating. It made every fall on the ice, every blow taken from a sadistic alpha play partner, every headache or injury I’d ever had to deal with seem laughable in comparison.

It was like the entire left side of my body was on fire. Still.

I’d been on fire. That memory came back to me in waves.

I’d been in the sauna, then the power had gone out, then I’d stepped into the smoke, then fire had lit everything with an infernal glow.

I’d tried to run back to the locker room, but part of the ceiling had crashed down around me and I’d fallen.

From there, everything went hazy. I remembered my lungs burning, my side burning, passing out…

and an alien rushing in to abduct me? No, that couldn’t be right.

I remembered going from dark and hot to bright and cold.

I remembered Boston reaching for me, his rich, tobacco scent rising above the smoke that filled my nose and lungs.

I remember the feeling of my alpha protecting me.

But no, that couldn’t be right either. Boston hadn’t even texted me after the auction event. He probably wasn’t interested. My mind was definitely playing tricks on me.

And yet, I continued to see his face now and then, in amongst those of my mom, occasionally my father and Marco, and an endless string of people wearing white who hurt me.

“Is all this medication really necessary?” my mom said at one point in a sea of fuzzy consciousness, God only knew how long after my nightmare had started.

“Second-degree burns are the most painful kind,” Boston’s voice explained.

Boston’s? “Third-degree burns destroy the nerves so you don’t feel anything, but second-degree means that the skin has been damaged to a deep level, but the nerves are still intact.

It’s better to keep Lucien heavily sedated until he gets through the worst of it. ”

That was all I was able to grasp before sinking back into throbbing, fraught oblivion.

More time passed, but I had no idea how much of it.

I had a few moments of semi-coherence, but there was nothing to see or hear, really, except the bright, sterile white of the hospital room where I must have been, my mom sitting in a stiff chair that was pretending to be cozy and comforting, reading a book.

That was the same thing I saw every time I pried my eyes open just a fraction, so I didn’t know whether ten minutes had passed or ten days.

Gradually, the oblivion lifted. I wasn’t sure that was such a great thing, though.

The first time I woke up to a sharper level of coherence, all I could do was groan. The pain was so bad it had awakened me from my senseless sleep. Right away, I wanted to go back to being aware of nothing.

“Lucien, you’re awake,” Mom said, her voice too high-pitched as she tossed aside her book, stood, and rushed to the side of my bed.

I went to reach for her with my left hand, but quickly realized that entire side of my body was restrained with bandages and machinery. Even if it hadn’t been, I wasn’t sure I would have had the strength to lift that arm at all.

“Mama?” I huffed out through a sore, dry throat. That had me blinking and frowning at the inexplicable feeling.

“Don’t try to talk too fast, honey,” Mom said, coming around to the other side of my bed so she could take my right hand. “They only just removed your breathing and feeding tubes this morning.”

What?

I raised my right hand to touch the side of my nose, which, sure enough, felt just slightly sticky from medical tape. I was relieved that I could move my right arm at all.

My little investigation was followed by a short, painful round of coughing that tasted like smoke. The coughing jolted my body, causing another round of pain that had me wincing and wishing I was unconscious again.

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom said, squeezing my hand and resting a comforting hand on my forehead.

She wore the miserable expression of a mother who had to watch her child suffer.

“The doctor says you’ll be coughing for a while as the effects of smoke inhalation heal.

I don’t remember the details of what he said, but it seems when you fell in that hallway, you turned your head in such a way to block the worst of the smoke. Well done, you.”

I smiled despite my pain and the simplicity of Mom’s praise. It didn’t matter what the circumstances were, I was hurting and my mom was lavishing me with praise and affection. So what if it made me feel like I was five instead of twenty-five? I needed my mom so badly just then.

“I don’t remember everything that happened,” I said, starting to cry like I was in a play scene. I guess that made sense, though. I cried to release emotion, and being burned alive carried a fucking huge amount of emotion with it.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to remember,” Mom said, bending down to kiss my forehead and sort of gingerly hugging the undamaged part of my body as she did.

The undamaged part of my body.

I caught my breath, which led to more coughing, which caused more pain.

I hardly noticed for a second as a deeper realization hit me.

My entire left side was burned. Right now, I couldn’t move it.

I had no idea how long it took to recover when you’d been burned as badly as I had. I had no idea if I would recover.

My body was my career. My body was my life.

“Ah, I see Lucien is awake,” a broad-shouldered, middle-aged alpha in a scrubs said as he walked into the room.

I frowned slightly at him, though facial expressions of any kind pulled at the bandaged skin on the left side of my face and caused, you guessed it, horrible pain. There was something familiar about the doctor, though. He must have been the alpha I’d mistaken for Boston in my dreams.

I was a little disappointed that he wasn’t Boston as the doctor joined my mom at my bedside to smile down at me.

“It’s great to see you looking so good,” the doctor said, glancing at the huge amount of machinery I was attached to. “Your vitals are all stable and in the exact range where we want them for this point in your recovery. Can you let me know on a scale of one to ten where your pain is?”

Before I could answer, Mom chimed in with, “Lucien, this is Dr. Wendel. He’s been the head of your care team for the last three weeks.”

The bottom nearly dropped out of my stomach. “Three weeks?” I asked breathlessly.

Dr. Wendel’s smile turned sympathetic. “I’m afraid you’ve sustained second-degree burns over fifteen percent of your body, Lucien,” he said. “Not only does that take time to heal, as I’m sure you know, the pain can be extreme.”

“Seven,” I blurted, tears streaming down my face. “My pain is a seven right now.”

Dr. Wendel nodded. “You’re about due for another dose of fentanyl, although for obvious reasons, I hope we can reduce that dosage and switch to managing your pain with non-opioid painkillers. That might be a while off, though.”

Dr. Wendel’s words went right over my head, even though I tried to pay attention as he got me up to speed on the injuries I’d suffered.

Apparently, I was lucky that my burns hadn’t been worse.

A few more minutes under that fiery debris and I would have suffered third degree burns that would have completely disabled me.

A few more minutes and I would have been dead.

“I’ve been coordinating care decisions with your mom and dad,” Dr. Wendel finished up, “but now that we’ve brought you out of the induced coma and your cognitive capabilities have returned, we will, of course, defer to your wishes for your medical care.”

I nodded, though that hurt. Everything hurt. From the sound of things, I would have to get used to it.

“I trust my mom’s decisions,” I said weakly, trying to move to sit up straighter, though I felt weaker than I ever had.

Dr. Wendel smiled at my mom. “Your mom has been a trouper,” he said. “She’s hardly left your side since you were admitted.”

I was so grateful for having such an amazing mom that I started crying again. It was embarrassing. But I suppose the fact that I could be embarrassed about something like that meant I really was recovering.

Dr. Wendel checked a few more things. A sturdy, beta nurse came in to help him with my bandages.

I almost wished for death for a second as he checked and changed a few.

I caught a glimpse of the raw, red flesh on my thigh as he worked on that one, but it made me nauseated to look at, so I turned away while he did what he had to do.

Just as the bandages were finished, Dr. Wendel gave his opinion, and the nurse added a syringe of what must have been the painkillers to the IV line in my right arm, my father strode into the room.

Our eyes met, but instead of feeling any warmth or gratitude toward him, I felt cold. There was no worry or compassion in my father’s eyes, just stoicism and disappointment.

“I see he’s awake,” Father said, addressing Dr. Wendel, not me.

“Yes,” Dr. Wendel said, his kind smile still in place. “And he’s doing well. Your son is a fighter, Mr. Monteverdi.”

“He’s a champion,” Father said, but there wasn’t a lick of conviction in his voice.

My heart sank, and I reached for the slightly swimmy feeling that the powerful painkillers were already giving me. “Hi, Father,” I croaked through my still-raw throat.

Father nodded at me. “Lucien.” He glanced at the nurse like he wanted him to leave the room, then at Dr. Wendel. “Any updates on when he might be able to walk or use his left side again?”

Oh, God. Was there a possibility I wouldn’t be able to walk?