Page 30 of Thorns That Bloom (Venusverse #3)

Sam

I wake up with the sensation of icy, rough hands grabbing at me, pulling and choking and pushing me in every direction.

Staring at the ceiling while I try to regain control of my trembling limbs, I swallow the lump in my throat and close my eyes, fighting to blink the remnants of the nightmare’s sensations away.

If only it was just a nightmare. But that would imply something made-up, something happening only inside my head.

This was worse. Much, much worse. An echo. A twisted, warped memory. Brought on by that horrible wound that my body and mind are still trying to heal, but it keeps oozing no matter how hard I treat it.

With a shaky exhale, I put my arms up over my face. The sheet under me is cold and soaked in sweat. I think even the baby got startled. I feel them moving more than they usually do in the morning.

Is their heart pounding as wildly as mine? Are they terrified, too?

I hope not. I hope and pray they never feel something like that.

Carefully, I pull myself up to sit against the creaking headboard. While I take care to slow my breaths and search for five things I can point out and name in the room, I gently brush my hand over my rounded belly. “I’m so sorry. It’s okay,” I whisper.

Weird dreams are normal at this stage of pregnancy, at least from what I read. I just wish I only had those. Weird, vivid dreams. Not so much this kind…

I know I shouldn’t feel disappointed. This isn’t my fault.

But I’ve been doing so well recently. The flashbacks have decreased significantly.

My body has finally started to release some of that horrible, bone-deep tension, but then that fucking cleaner being changed at work completely threw me off again.

The stupid citrus scent. One tiny thing and I’m back to waking up at five in the morning in panic and cold sweat.

With some effort, I relax my clenched fists and the tension in my jaw.

“Breathe,” I tell myself, focusing on the baby and their comfort. I visualize them, floating inside me, protected.

I am their home. Their haven. I need to make it a safe one.

I have to.

I know the rest of the day will be utter shit when the faint sensation of discomfort and unease lingers even after I take a long shower and eat some breakfast. It’s a feeling of being watched, of having someone’s hands hovering right above my back.

Every time I turn, there’s nothing, making me that much more paranoid and frustrated with myself.

All in your head.

'Not your fault. Your responsibility.'

The world doesn’t pause because I am having a bad day. I still have to work, so I do. I stop for a cupcake from that nice little bakery on the way, get some tea to calm me down, and play my favorite songs as I drive.

People irritate me more than usual, and my tolerance for dealing with them is considerably lower.

Even Kristoff notices when he comes in to check on me in the morning, as he usually does, with a bunch of coffee cups in hand and a smile on his face.

I wave at him and crinkle my nose, the intense scent of his espresso making me a little nauseated.

He makes the face he always does when he realizes I’m in one of my moods—that I can at least chalk up to pregnancy mood swings—and clears out as soon as we talk about what needs to be done today.

The pregnancy itself isn’t helping my state of mind, either.

I’m getting to the point where I feel like shit, plain and simple.

I’m constantly hungry. So freaking hungry.

My hips ache. My sleep schedule is starting to crumble.

The baby’s kicks are more intense. I love feeling them move inside me, but being punched in the belly button from the inside is a sensation I’d rather not know existed. And I always feel so damn sluggish!

Brushing my hair out of my face, I let out a tired sigh. I can do this, right?

Yeah, I can do this. We can do this.

I slave away doing my job until I have to go pee again.

Once I get back, I grab one of my snacks—a fruit protein bar—and go on my phone for a bit.

I work best in bursts, and frequent breaks help me keep my momentum.

At least here, I don’t have to worry about people watching me and thinking I’m just slacking.

Twitching and frowning as the baby kicks me in the ribs, I swipe down on the notification bar and open the unread message that buzzed in a few minutes ago.

Spinach and goat cheese risotto on the menu today! I have a later shift, so I’ll come in time for your lunch and we can eat before I start. At 12.30-ish? Should I meet you outside your office?

I smile to myself. Always so eager to please.

Theo’s taking his offer of us eating lunch together pretty seriously. I was a little worried about giving him my number, but the only thing he’s spammed me with since I did that a few days ago has been constant questions about what foods I like, dislike, and making sure I don’t have allergies.

I’m still not exactly sure if I believe he isn’t preparing these meals specifically to bring for me, rather than just what he would’ve cooked for himself. And I’m still not sure how I feel about it, really, but…it’s nice, I suppose.

It’s nice to feel like I’m being taken care of.

Yeah. Sounds good.

There is a heavy feeling at the bottom of my chest still.

But maybe that’s just because of the horrible way I got woken up today.

The stupid, irrational doubt that always lingers.

That doubt whispers to me, telling me I don’t know Theo.

That he’s an alpha capable of the things that all alphas are capable of.

And yet when I picture his face and that bright, boyish grin in my mind, my body relaxes. I close my eyes and recall his pheromones. I’ve always liked coconut. His scent has an edge to it, a spicy, hearty musk that gets much stronger when he’s sweaty, like after working in his overalls for hours.

At least he’s coming here before work today. That should stop these ill-advised thoughts. It’s nothing but hormones. The animalistic side of me, an omega needing an alpha to care for them in such a vulnerable time.

Must be.

At exactly twelve thirty, Theo appears outside my door with a grin he is clearly trying to rein in, but it shows that he’s ten times more excited than he wants to admit nonetheless, and two plastic containers of food in hand.

He raises them in the air as he knocks, blue eyes lit up, hair shiny and messy from the wind that’s been whipping through town for the last two days.

“Hey.” Theo’s voice is a little breathy.

Was he hurrying to get here?

He stands in the doorway, watching me intently, as always.

No work overalls, only his regular clothes—black washed-out jeans, a t-shirt with some band logo on it, and a plain, sandy leather jacket with a white stripe on the arms. His broad, muscular shoulders give a nice V-shape to his upper body.

And while his jeans are nowhere near tight-fitting, they stretch slightly over his thighs.

I swallow hard and quickly meet his gaze. What are you thinking, Sam?

Standing up maybe a little too fast because of how damn hungry I am, I smile back at him. “I’m starving. Where’s that secret spot of yours? It’s pretty windy, though. I’m not sure it’s the best idea to eat outside.”

“Don’t worry. It’s mostly enclosed. Should be okay,” he says, and steps away as I come to him with my jacket in hand.

He hands me a food container that’s still hot. I open it while we walk, and by god, the aroma is so savory and so delicious it makes my stomach rumble. Letting out a groan of pleasure and rolling my eyes to the back of my head, I glance at him with a smirk. “This better be as good as it smells.”

Theo chuckles. “I hope so. I’ve done it a million times. My sister… Well, she always loved it.” The spark in his voice gets a little duller as he says it. I wonder if he’s nervous, or if it’s his sister that’s the sore subject.

He holds the door open for me as we take a turn and head through the part of the building I rarely frequent. Well, never. But that’s fine. There are plenty of people close by, so I feel safe. I really do.

“Have you always liked to cook?” I ask.

“I think? Um, I remember always being around when one of my dads was cooking since I was little and finding it cool.”

“My mom never let me cook. Dad would say that it’s a woman’s job.” I make a bitter grimace. Judging from the glance he gives me, Theo agrees.

“Some betas have weirdly strict gender roles.”

“Yeah. I don’t like it much, anyway. It’s a lot happening at once. Stresses me out. All the things that need to be checked at certain times so it all comes together…”

Theo grins. “That’s what’s fun about it. Turning a lot of nothing into something delicious.”

Before I can respond, he opens another door for me.

This one leads to a small inset balcony.

It’s almost like the architects chose a random office and replaced the outside wall with glass panels that span from the floor to about chest height.

The ceiling from the floor above is still overhead, sheltering the area from the worst of the weather.

The offices on either side are perfectly normal, and their walls enclose this unexpected outdoor space.

There are a couple of metal benches and a few big planters with ferns that look like they've seen better days.

“Tadaaa!” he sings, presenting it with his hand.

“You sure nobody will mind us being here?” I ask while I walk out. It’s not too cold or windy, so I sit down, putting the container on top of my thighs. The balcony faces the east car park, with the tiny wooded area behind it.

Theo leans against the railing and rummages in his backpack. The exact moment I look down at the container, wondering how I’m going to eat, he pulls out two sets of cutlery with a sharp ‘Aha!’