Page 21

RUMBLED

Pember

One, two, three, four, five rings. Click.

“ Pem, you there? ”

Pember swallowed, his throat thick from sleep. “ Immy? It’s half three in the morning. What’s up? ”

“ I’m not feeling good. Can you come get me? ”

Pember snapped awake, almost splitting his top lip between his teeth. He could taste the blood and sweat on his tongue, and grimaced at how his pyjama shirt clung to his clammy skin. Thankfully, he’d put a pillow at the edge of the mattress to stop himself from falling out of bed again.

Scrubbing both hands through his damp hair, he sat up. “Shit,” he whispered, looking at the clock through his fingers. It was 3:27 am. It always was.

Stripping the bed, he padded downstairs and threw the sheets into the washing machine. At this rate he was going to get through a family-sized bottle of detergent a week.

He’d thought the white noise machine would help, but it didn’t.

He’d thought the pillows and blankets would make his nest feel more comfortable, but if anything it was suffocating to be cocooned in the middle of the night.

Part of the problem, he realised, was that his mum had never taught him to build a proper nest, choosing instead to put him on suppressants the moment he hit puberty. It was all he’d ever known.

He’d only ever had one proper heat, and that was due to being unwell and throwing up his medication. It had been terrifying, and confusing, and he’d felt utterly out of control. His mum had bollocked him something rotten, despite it being her idea for him to go out that night.

However, that’d also been the night he met Oliver—the fateful evening when he’d rescued him from the Cock and Bull restrooms. Pember never wanted to feel like that again, so dulling his cycle felt like the best option all around.

Pulling out a chair, he browsed the internet for coffee machines whilst waiting for the kettle to boil.

A message flashed across the screen. ‘ Can’t sleep? ’ It was Oliver, a little green icon flashing over his contact picture. He probably saw one over Pember’s too.

‘ Early start, ’ he typed back. ‘ Ran the victim’s bloods overnight, I want to get in early to check on the results. ’

He had no reason to lie about the nightmares. Not to Oliver, at least. But since Imogen died it’d become something like a nervous tick.

Oliver sent back a thumbs up emoji. ‘ Blake said you’re smashing it. How’re you getting on with the rest of the motley crew? ’

Pember bit his lip, absentmindedly pressing his fingers to the tender rectangular bump on his forehead. Blake’s heart rate monitor had really done a number on his face.

‘ They’re nice, ’ he replied. ‘ I really like Maya, Duncan’s funny and Wallace is extremely knowledgeable. ’

‘ Good. Your mum still being weird? ’

His gaze dropped to the table. ‘ So far so good. Nothing crazy. ’

Nothing crazy. So why did he constantly feel on edge?

‘ That’s good. What about Blake? Has he stopped being a grumpy twat? ’

Pember coughed back a laugh. ‘ I think he’s warming up. ’

The alpha’s tired face popped into his mind.

How his brows pulled together as he furiously scribbled notes during the post-mortem.

How his glasses rode lower and lower on his nose as the morning drew on.

How, despite his perfectly tailored suit and close shave, he wore pink flamingo socks inside his brogues.

Pink bloody flamingos. As if the man wasn’t a walking contradiction already.

Pragmatically speaking, he and Blake were compatible through scent, and he was certainly handsome, with his strong jaw; long legs; straight white teeth; large fangs; thick, pullable hair; broad, grabbable shoulders; full, kissable lips—Pember shivered—not to mention the angle of his Adam’s apple, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and how he made the hairs on the back of Pember’s neck stand on end every time he spoke.

Take a breath.

Yes, he was very easy on the eye.

But something else had passed between them at the morgue. Something that made Pember’s chest tight and his toes tingle. It was attraction. Attraction that went beyond the physical. He wasn’t so inexperienced that he couldn’t recognise the signs.

However, he met plenty of attractive, compatible people every day. Johnny, the firearms officer was one. The guy that came to collect the lab waste was another. But neither Johnny nor the lab waste guy made him blush redder than a tomato.

The kettle clicked and he poured himself a cup of coffee.

‘ Why are you up at this time? ’ Pember typed back.

There was a pause, then ‘ Mina’s reflux is bad again. She can only sleep if she’s on mine or Lucas’ chest. We take it in shifts because we’re shit scared of crushing her. Especially Lucas. ’

‘ Oh no! ’

There was another pause. ‘ It’s not so bad. Alfie’s having really bad night terrors at the moment, so it’s good one of us is always up. ’

Pember let out a slow breath. He’d met Oliver and Lucas’ adopted son, Alfie, a few times, but never for long and only when Alfie wanted to.

They’d slowly been building his confidence around adults, and he’d finally let Pember accompany them to the park a couple of times.

It probably helped that he was an omega too.

‘ Oh no! Poor baby, ’ he typed back, a lead weight settling in his stomach.

‘ I know. His counsellor said he should grow out of it, but it’s hard at the moment. Speaking of Alfie, it’s his sixth birthday next month and we’re having a little get-together. He’s asked if you’d like to come. ’

Rubbing the back of his neck, Pember smiled. ‘ I’d be honoured! ’

‘ Eh, don’t feel too honoured. He also invited the postman and the woman in the pet shop (she let him hold a rabbit so he’s taken a liking to her). Blake’s coming too. ’

His eyes widened at that. ‘ Really? That’s surprising. ’

‘ I know. After Op Sceptre I think Blake’ developed a soft spot for him. ’

Pember would have found that difficult to believe, but after the last couple of weeks he realised the alpha probably had several soft spots hidden under that cold exterior.

‘ What’s Alfie into these days? ’

‘ Anything to do with zombies. Or ghosts. Or just Halloween in general. Anyway, gotta go, Mina wants a bottle. Don’t work too hard, and make sure Blake remembers to get some sunshine every now and again—and tell him, light from the computer screen doesn’t count! ’

Pember chuckled and took a swig of coffee. ‘ Will do. Wait, did you know Blake and I were neighbours when I moved in? ’

Three dots flickered across the screen for way longer than necessary.

‘ No comment. ’

He was about to reply when another message popped up on the screen.

‘ Your telephone consultation has been arranged for 16:00hrs today with Dr Phillips. Please press 2 to confirm the appointment. ’

He sighed. What a pain in the backside.

His thoughts slipped to Blake again, and how complicated his medication must be.

Arrhythmia was no joke—an irregular heartbeat that could strike with little to no warning, regardless of the person’s age.

No wonder the alpha kept himself so fit, and no wonder he couldn’t sleep.

Anxiolytics were known to cause insomnia, drastically reducing a person’s naturally occurring melatonin and messing with their enzyme induction.

That, combined with long shifts and high levels of stress? A recipe for absolute disaster.

If Pember were still at university he might have done a study on it. Maybe he’d have stripped Blake’s shirt off and stuck little electro-dots all over his chest. For science.

He was already pulling on a pair of pyjama bottoms when he ambled into the back garden, coffee cup in hand.

Craning his head, he looked up at Blake’s window, and sure enough he was running on the treadmill again.

Not shirtless, unfortunately, but Pember could see the shape of a replacement monitor strapped to his chest. His eyes snapped to Pember almost immediately, and Pember was beginning to regret not being more sneaky.

The alpha frowned, and the pat, pat, patting of his footfalls began to slow. Grabbing a towel that was hanging over the treadmill, he ran it around his neck and face and picked up his phone. Pember’s mobile rang a moment later, making him jump.

He looked at it, then up at Blake, before finally answering. “Y-yes?”

“You forgot your coat again.”

Pember patted his hips. “I’m wearing pyjamas.”

“Yes, but it’s freezing this morning. You’ll catch a cold.”

“I…” Pember’s mouth tipped up into a playful smirk. “ Look , if I want to check on my neighbour without wearing a coat, then I will. Besides, it’s not that cold.”

One of Blake’s dark brows pulled into an arch. “If you wish to continue checking on me, then you’ll put a coat on.”

Pember huffed and stalked towards the house. He pulled his black jacket around his shoulders and reappeared on the patio moments later. “Happy? O-oh—” Blake was gone. Okay then.

He was about to go back inside when Blake’s door clicked open.

Pember frowned, shoving the phone into his pocket and tipping up a plant pot.

He hopped onto it, giving himself the extra height needed to see over the fence.

Blake’s head and shoulders appeared over the wooden slats a moment later, and suddenly they found themselves looking at one another over Val’s garden, faces illuminated by Pember’s kitchen light.

Pember rested his coffee cup on the fence post. “How did the briefing go?”

Blake ran a hand through his hair, leaving finger marks in its damp waves. He was still breathing heavily from his run.

“Fine. The boss is getting twitchy about Chichi’s findings. He wants to know more about this pregnant omega, and whether the victim voluntarily took whatever was in his system.”

“Pregnant omega?” Pember said, titling his head.

Blake nodded. “We’ve got some grainy CCTV footage from the Nock and Ore Pub. It shows him talking to a pregnant male earlier in the evening. We want to speak to him as a witness.”