“Your reaction seems over the top,” the alpha said. “I thought you were feeling better, but maybe that’s not the case.”
“You drugged me!” His reaction was pretty on point, actually. “Why did you tie me up? Who are you waiting for?”
“Who?” Oberon seemed to grow irritated. “Are you asking if I’ve contacted Michelle? I have not. And I won’t. You won’t be going back to her, Fenrir.”
Oh gods.
Visions of sterile white rooms and the smell of cleaning fluid assaulted him, momentarily blinding him to Oberon. It’d been a long time since he was pulled from the medical ward, removed from the testing sights and allowed to reside in the estate. Even when she was terribly cross with him, Michelle knew better than to threaten him with that place.
But that was because she’d planned on buying Fenrir’s loyalty and using him as her own personal tool. The alpha before him had no need for such weapons. The White Frost was filled with talents of their own, people who could get the job done.
Fen had been stupid and rash, and had revealed his greatest secret to Oberon King, and now the alpha was planning on turning him over to the Butcher.
“Don’t,” he hardly heard himself through the buzzing in his ears, but Fenrir couldn’t control himself. “Don’t let her touch me.”
Confusion flashed across the alpha’s face. “No one is going to touch you, omega. No one but me.”
Did that mean he was going to torture Fenrir himself?
Why did that hurt?
What was this unexplainable sharpness at the center of his chest?
“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “What did you do to me?” He shifted and was reminded of the toy. “Take this thing out.”
“It’s keeping you grounded.”
“Keeping me primed for your cock more like,” he growled, only for the alpha to remain stoic.
“I’m not letting my cock anywhere near there.”
Fenrir winced before he could help it. Another strange and out-of-character reaction to add to the growing list. No matter what Oberon claimed, clearlysomethinghad been done to him.
“That wasn’t what it sounded like,” the alpha rushed to correct himself, as though he cared about Fen’s feelings.
“It’s not like I want to sleep with you again either, King.”
“I’m going to have to insist you reevaluate that want then,” Oberon surprised him by saying. “Otherwise, I’m afraid we’re both in for a miserable lifetime.”
“What?” Was he playing with him? “You literally just said—”
“Just because I want to wait until I’m sure you won’t freeze my dick clean off,” he stated, “doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck you again eventually, precious. Of course I do. You’re mine.”
“Wait.” There was so much to unpack there, and Fenrir was admittedly still not all together there. If he had to guess, he’d just come out of a feverish state. He’d suffered from influx, which meant his memories would either all return eventually or be lost forever.
There was a full year missing from when he’d been locked in an isolation room at the medical ward after the success of Rebirth. His entire time being twenty-one, gone as if it’d never existed. In his mind, he skipped from twenty to twenty-two, then had only made it halfway through that age before encountering another episode that had left him catatonic until the very last month of his twenty-third year.
“How long have I been like this?” Fenrir feared the answer.
“Only a couple of days,” the alpha reassured, having no clue how big a relief that was.
“A trigger,” Fenrir said. “There had to be a trigger.” He shook, rocking the bed in his frustration, and then let out a roar. “Get this thing out of my ass!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, damn it!”
Oberon stared at him silently for a moment and then straightened and walked closer. “If you try anything with your power, I’ll be forced to put you back on the chair.”