Page 21 of His Reward (Omegas After Dark: Omega Auction #2)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Lucien

The first month of my recovery, the first month I was conscious, at least, was hell.

Part of me wished I’d known more about severe burns and scars and how bodies healed from those sorts of things.

A bigger part of me figured it was probably a good idea that I didn’t know what I was in store for before it happened.

Burns healed into scars. Scar tissue had an entirely different consistency from regular skin.

It was thicker and way less flexible. If you didn’t constantly work on it with massage and moisturizer and silicone gel sheets, it tightened up and reduced mobility.

As I’d told Dr. Barber and the recovery team at the rehab hospital I was transferred to once I’d proved to Dr. Wendel at the hospital that I was able to walk and eat on my own, I needed to maintain as much flexibility in my left side as I could if I was going to get back on the ice and win gold at the Winter Games… someday.

The fact that winning gold at the Winter Games “in three months” had changed back into “someday” was a blow that hurt almost as much as the scar massages.

“Just a little bit more, Lucien,” Gemma, the kind young beta therapist who came in to do my massages every day said, giving me a sympathetic look as she massaged my thigh near my hip. “You’re doing great.”

I gritted my teeth against the intense pain of her digging into me and stretching tissue that definitely didn’t want to stretch. “You’re going to owe me some serious aftercare when we’re done,” I growled through gritted teeth.

Gemma laughed, but she knew I was at least a little bit serious.

We’d become friends in the month since I’d landed in the rehab hospital.

She’d seen and tortured every part of me in my desperate efforts to recover as quickly as possible.

You didn’t spend every day with someone in that kind of close proximity without spilling all your secrets to them.

“I might have to investigate this Dark Fantasies Club of yours,” she said as she reached for another pump of moisturizer from the bottle on the table next to my bed. “I might just have a little Domme in me after all.”

I laughed, then sucked in a breath as she worked over the most painful spot on my hip. “You’re definitely a sadistic bitch.”

It was all said in fun and Gemma knew it, but my mom walked into the room before I’d noticed or could take anything back.

“Lucien!” she scolded me through her surprise. “Is this how you’re talking to the people who are trying to help you now?”

Gemma laughed, which did more to diffuse my mom’s indignation than I ever could have managed. “We were just joking around, Mrs. Monteverdi,” she said, finishing up, and then standing and turning to the table to tidy it.

I’d had to undress for the therapy and only had a blanket to throw over the lower half of my body as Mom approached my bed and said, “You really shouldn’t talk to the people who are helping your recovery like that, even if you are joking.”

She leaned over the bed to kiss my forehead, which was both aggravating, given that I was sitting there naked, and so, so wonderful.

I hadn’t been completely joking when I’d said I needed serious aftercare these days.

Pain was hard to endure no matter how it came, and I’m not gonna lie, whether I was a grown man of twenty-five or not, it felt good to have my mom there to care for me.

Mom had been there every day since I’d been moved to the rehab hospital, but she wasn’t the only one.

“Bos says he’s going to be a little late today,” she told me as she stepped away from the bed and set her purse on the wide windowsill off to one side of the room.

It had an amazing view of downtown Barrington from the ninth floor.

“He and the gang were called to put out a kitchen fire over on the west side first thing this morning. Someone burning their breakfast, I suppose.”

I nodded and slipped out the other side of my bed, reaching for my underwear and sweatpants. "Admire the view for a moment, Mom, while I get dressed, okay?”

Mom made a scoffing noise behind me. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before, sweetie.” She peered out the window at bustling Barrington all the same.

I dressed with lightning speed, not minding that Gemma was still in the room, but glad Mom had shut the door on her way in. Gemma really had seen it all.

I made the mistake of catching sight of my reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door as I reached for my loose, long-sleeved t-shirt.

A quick, sharp burst of emotion speared through me.

The right side of my body looked as fine and fit as ever, since they had me moving around a lot and even working out in rehab.

The left side of my body was an entirely different story.

My left arm and most of my left side were a mottled combination of red, raw skin that was still fighting to heal from a couple of grafts I’d had the week before and pale, bumpy scar tissue.

The sight immediately brought memories of that dark morning, when fire had licked across my once-pretty body.

I swallowed hard and looked at the mess that had been made of my flesh before pulling my shirt on over my head.

That only hid my body, though, not my head.

I’d never really considered myself vain or particularly concerned with my appearance, although I’d been aware I was attractive.

Father had always said that being attractive influenced the judges, whether they were willing to admit to it or not.

It had helped to make me into a crowd favorite, I knew.

Well, those days of being the pretty omega were gone.

The face that looked back at me from the mirror was almost the one I was used to, except for the fact that the left side, just past the apple of my cheek and the side of my eye, looked like it had melted.

Parts of my cheek and jaw on that side were distorted and my mouth on that side was now pulled into a constant smirk, even if the fire hadn’t touched my lips.

The worst part of it was my left ear. It was pretty much gone.

Everyone said I was lucky that only the outer areas of the ear were burned off and that the core structure, the part that made it possible for me to hear, was still intact.

I had lost some hearing, but it could have been much worse.

If you weren’t concerned with appearances.

If appearances mattered, then I was fucked. That entire side of my head looked gross. It wasn’t just my melted ear. Enough of my scalp in that area had been damaged that I would never grow hair around that side again.

“Oh, honey,” Mom said, stepping up behind me and taking my right hand. “It really isn’t that bad.”

“No, of course it’s not,” I said too tightly. I turned away from the mirror and smiled at her. “I’m used to it now.”

It was a big, fat lie. I hated the way I looked now. What I hated even more was the constant, underlying worry that Boston wouldn’t want anything to do with me, now that I was a freak.

“Do you want your compression bandages today?” Gemma asked from the other side of the room, where she looked about ready to leave. “I’ve put together a whole kit of them to send you home with.”

My heart skipped a few beats as the anxiety of leaving rehab buzzed through me. They’d done everything they could for me there. I would still have daily appointments so Gemma could torture me more, but I was supposed to go home today.

I wasn’t sure I was ready to face my condo and all the reminders of the life I couldn’t have anymore.

“Um, yeah,” I said, letting go of my mom’s hand and walking around to the other side of the bed. “If you think they’re helping.”

“They’re stopping the scars from forming in irregular patterns,” Gemma said, bringing the tight, restricting sleeves for my arm and my thigh over to the bed. “That will help with the flexibility you want.”

“Anything you can do to make certain Lucien is as flexible as he was before is good,” Mom said as I halfway removed my shirt so Gemma could slide the pressure bandage in place.

I should have had her do it before I got dressed, but I hadn’t wanted to be naked in front of my mom.

“My beautiful boy is going to stand on that podium at the Winter Games in three years,” she added with a proud smile.

I would have said something cute and given Mom all the credit for whatever recovery I might make, but Marco walked into the room as she spoke.

“Lucien?” he said, stopping and blinking at Mom. “He’s definitely not ever competing again, let alone winning any medals.”

There was a subtly gloating tone to his voice that made me want to punch him. More than usual.

“Lucien can do whatever he sets his mind to,” Mom defended me as Gemma helped me figure out how to pull on the pressure bandage for my thigh without taking my sweatpants off. “He’s determined to get right back on the horse after falling off, and I, for one, applaud his determination.”

“Oh, well, if Lucien wants to learn dressage and start competing in the Summer Games, then by all means,” Marco said with a sneer.

“If I did choose to change sports, I’d still be better than you,” I snapped. I couldn’t help it. Comments like that were beneath me, but Marco had been such a jerk to me, even through my recovery, that all I wanted to do was spit in his eye sometimes.

“You’re an idiot if you think you have any chance at all of competing on any level on the ice anymore,” Marco snorted, no problem fighting right back. He didn’t care how low he stooped either. “No one wants to watch a freak like you are now on the ice anyhow.”

I wanted to throw something back at him, but I was still too raw from seeing my reflection, and all I could do was grit my teeth and not show how effective that argument was at upsetting me.

“Boys,” Mom huffed, moving to stand between us. “You’re supposed to be brothers, not adversaries.”