A Pack of Vows and Tears by Olivia Wildenstein

Author:Olivia Wildenstein [Wildenstein, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Twig Publishing
Published: 2019-05-27T16:00:00+00:00

28

Isobel’s surgery went smoothly, so I got to see her that very afternoon.

Although she was hooked to an EKG machine, and there were drainage tubes sticking out from underneath her powder-blue hospital gown, she was smiling and sported a way better complexion than I did. I kissed her forehead, nose prickling from the strong odor of antiseptic and infected blood, then sat in the chair August had occupied but freed up for me.

We talked about everything and nothing: the weather, college, doctors, even her work which I was supposed to take over the following day. Greg stopped by to see her at some point. Although the pack doctor hadn’t been the one to operate on her, he’d been the one to choose the surgeon. Isobel laughed at something he told her, something I didn’t catch because of who’d just walked into the room.

As our gazes collided, the room and all of the noise—the steady beeping of the heart monitor, Isobel’s tinkling laughter, August and Nelson’s quiet conversation—it all faded out for a moment. It had been eleven days since I’d seen Liam, but it felt like a month.

I jerked my gaze down to my lap, and then I jerked to my feet. “I’m going to grab something to eat from the cafeteria. Does anyone want anything?”

I was still looking at my feet when everyone answered no.

I walked around Isobel’s bed and passed by Liam, sensing him everywhere. It was as though his alpha-ness had grown. Was that possible?

In the hospital hallway, I took a deep breath. The myriad of chemical smells and human diseases made my nose itch and my eyes water. Blinking repeatedly, I plucked a tissue from the box on the nurse’s station to dab at the moisture.

The cafeteria was full of visitors, and the hubbub made my head throb. I needed sleep. A lot of it. Hopefully I wouldn’t wake at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning. I bought an overpriced ham sandwich before returning to the wing where Isobel would spend the next two nights. As I ate my sandwich, a chill swept over my arms, and not from any AC vent; I sensed a presence. An unwelcome one. Through narrowed eyes, I took in every inch of the hallway, coming to a stop on a closed door. I strode over to it and squinted through the inset glass. The room was dark. I listened for a sound—a breath, a pulse—but was met with silence. Yet my uneasiness grew. I inhaled deeply, and layered over the unpleasant reek of the medical facility was a cloying, distinctive cologne: Aidan Michaels’s.

I turned the doorknob and barged inside, hoping the reason I smelled him but didn’t see him was because he lay dead in his hospital bed. No such luck. The bed was made with crisp, papery sheets, the adjustable overbed table wiped clean, and the blinds shut.

This must’ve been the room he’d recovered in.

As I turned to leave, I smacked into a large body. Heart battering, I lurched backward and flung my gaze up.

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