#Chapter 32 Dreary Rain

The weather hasn’t let up, even when I wish it would. The clouds are heavy and dark and stagnant, unmoving through the skies and blocking the sun for what feels like a week, maybe more. Having Celine here is a beacon of light in itself, but there’s far too much going on for me to see her as much as I would prefer.
I drag myself to the hospital, wearing the laziest set of sweatpants and a hoodie. I tied up my long, fair hair, letting it hang off my neck in a ball or a nest; I don’t care of the appearance at this rate. I lurch myself to the top floor, leaning forward against the glass to peer into Reese’s room. He’s hardly awake anymore.
Just like today, he still breathes through a machine, several others beeping stagnantly. I’ve built new programs, hired specialists of our kind, and built beautiful charities to raise money for wolves just like Reese. And yet, here he lays, no better than he was the day he was brought to the Royal pack.
Eugene rests a heavy palm on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Is it?” I breathe, shaking my head. “He hasn’t gotten any better, Eugene. I’ve failed him.”
“You can’t talk like it’s over,” he says, firm. Even with that reassurance, from a doctor, nonetheless, I don’t feel like it reigns truth. It’s somber and sympathetic, but false. “He’s going to get better. We have him stable and when we get to the bottom of this poison, we will be able to reverse it.”
I wipe at my eyes, my legs trembling under my weight. That familiar brigade of footsteps and camera shuttering noises creeps down the hall from the set of elevators. I can only imagine the stories now about the haggard appearance of the Queen Luna and her unnoble like behavior lately; getting into bar fights and fraternizing with doctors.
Eugene doesn’t seem keen to allow any of that to happen. He pulls me suddenly into a broom closet next to Reese’s room. It’s dark and small, but he shuts the door behind us and we are crammed into a tiny, dank space and away from the rumblings of photographers.
My mind and my body dare to sink to the floor.
Eugene catches me in the dark, arms hooked around my hips and my back, holding me upright to his chest. “It’s okay, they won’t find us here.”
“They saw me come in the hospital; they will find me eventually. They will write about me being the Queen Luna whore, the woman in a broom closet with a man that isn’t her mate, the woman who slapped her husband at the gala he threw for her…”
“You’re so hard on yourself, Olivia.”
“Maybe I’m not hard enough,” I groan. “I feel like I’ve done nothing worth praise. I’ve done nothing to celebrate. I want to help Reese and he’s still so sick.”
I feel his arms tighten around me, bringing me a spec of relief, his charismatic charm overwhelming in this moment. I breathe easy in his arms, like I’ve been here before. When I shut my eyes, his warmth and his familiar scent tainting my exterior, I don’t feel out of place.
His lips graze my temple, pressing lightly to my forehead.
I fight back a hot, painful onslaught of tears. “Please, don’t, Eugene.”
“Allow yourself to be cared for,” he begs, pleading in tone. “Let me care for you.”
I push my hands against his chest, needing space, needing just the edge of care without being thrown over the cliff into the obliteration of love and romance. I felt safe for a minute, and I feel unsafe in the next. I hate that unstable back and forth where I crave his warmth but I deny his heart. I know they are one in the same.
That’s why I can’t have it.
“Please, take good care of my brother,” I say, pushing past Eugene, even when he reaches for me, pawing at me to stay, but I can’t be in here any longer. Even at the behest of those feisty reporters, I’d rather be called a cheater than to allow Eugene Opal to care for me. “Please, Eugene, stop. I need to go.”
“I don’t want you to go out there and be hounded by reporters, Olivia. I promise I won’t try to kiss you again or anything, I just—”
“You just don’t get it,” I groan.
“Then explain it to me, please. What is so wrong with me? I care for you, Olivia. I have always loved you, and even if you don’t love me back, you could at least let me care for you.” He pulls my hand again, daring to bring my back to his arms, but I stop just inches before I touch his chest. “You make it impossible.”
“It is impossible,” I growl, snatching my hand back at last. “I refuse your affection. I don’t want it, Eugene. I want none of it, from anyone, and the sooner you get used to hearing that, the better, because—"
He takes a lunging, single step forward, my back slamming into the wall beside the door. The shelves rattle, his hands pressed to my face, holding me perfectly still as he breathes hot, furious pants against my lips. I shudder, too stunned to push away or speak, and he must take that lack of response as permission.
Eugene Opal, the brother of my ex-mate, piles a bruises kiss into my lips.
I feel sick at first, my stomach knotting up horribly and my heart thumping hard, pounding like a fist against my chest over and over until I tap out. I want to, of course, but something stops me. Something about his warm, hungry lips, gnawing on mine brings a sense of warmth back into my once cold soul.
Pushing my back onto the wall, Eugene drives the kiss harder, his hands sliding from my jaw and onto my neck, and then my shoulders, before taunting my ribs. I suck in my last inhale, muffled by his lips digging into me and my jaw, before I manage to collect my thoughts and my sanity. I barely push him backwards and even if he is strong enough to resist that motion, he does so, backing away from me with a mild growl.
“Animal instincts, I guess,” he says, shaking his head.
I listen for the hallway commotion, hearing the reports no longer. “Just focus on Reese, for me, please,” I hum, still in a daze from this interaction. I wipe my lips, his scent marked all over me. “I don’t want that to ever happen again.”
“You wanted it,” he says, so damn sure of himself now. “I felt it, Olivia.”
“You felt nothing. I have to focus on my brother and then myself. I lost my life for loving a man and I will not—”
“No!” he snaps, his voice so abrupt now. He charges forward, his hand pressing into the wall near my head, my stomach churning in response. I am pinned now, and not like I was before. This is not out of love but out of ferocity. “He was not a man. He was hardly even an Alpha, Olivia. I will not let you give up on your heart because of that asshole!”
I shudder at his volatile outburst. He wouldn’t hurt me, I know that, but in some ways I can see that I’ve hurt him. I never wanted that. He’s my brother’s physician, and a friend of my old life, but he cannot be that in this lifetime. He is Reese’s doctor. That’s all it can be.
“Look after my brother. Please.”
“When he is better, then what?”
I swallow this new sickly feeling in my gut. “We can… talk.”
He seems fairly resolved with that assurance, if it could even be called that.