The Awakening: Britton (Entangled Covet)

by Abby Niles

  That rationalization calmed her.

  He was going to be fine.

  As soon as she parked her car in front of the Bradley Clinic, she rushed inside. The receptionist lifted her head, and Val didn’t even have to say anything. The woman hit a button and the door to the shifter side of the facility popped open.

  Val found Aidan and Liam sitting in the waiting area, both with their elbows on their knees and their heads in their hands. She felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach, and slowed her steps, terrified at what she’d see when they looked up.

  When they looked up at her footsteps, the air whooshed from her lungs.

  Fear. From both of them.

  “B-Britton?” was all she could get out.

  “We don’t know.” Aidan rubbed his hands on his jeans. “He’s in back with Miles right now. Miles said he’d give us an update as soon as he knows something.”

  When she sank into the chair beside Liam, he wrapped an arm around her and tugged her to his side. “He’s going to be okay. Britton is too much of an ass to let something like this bring him down.”

  She tried to smile, but could only nod.

  Hours passed before Miles finally walked into the room running his hand through his hair, making it spike up in every direction.

  Dread clenched her throat and she leaped to her feet. Whatever he was about to say wasn’t good news. “H-how is he?”

  He studied her for a moment and sympathy shone back at her.

  “No.” She took a step backward, vehemently shaking her head. “He’s not dead. Please, don’t tell me he’s dead.”

  “No. He’s not.”

  A gust of relief shot through her and she nearly collapsed to the floor.

  “Val, it’s still not good news,” he warned.

  “He’s not dead. I can live with anything else.”

  A grimace crossed Miles’s face. “We can’t control the pain. Nothing we’ve given him is working. It hasn’t even taken the edge off. We even tried putting him in a medically induced coma, but all our drugs have failed.”

  Okay, she’d been wrong. The idea that they couldn’t do anything to ease Britton’s suffering horrified her. “I don’t understand. Why is nothing working? H-how are you supposed to help him?”

  “I don’t think we can.”

  “But you have to. There’s something wrong. Fix him!” Hysteria welled up in her voice, and she clenched her teeth to keep a tidal wave of tears from breaking free.

  “What’s going on with Britton isn’t something I can fix.”

  Vision tunneling, she blinked. “Why not? What is it?”

  “His body is at war with itself.”

  “What are you talking about? He’s sick! He needs medicine. Do something!”

  Miles sighed. “Val. Sit down. I don’t need two patients.”

  Shaking her head, she took another step back. She didn’t know what he was trying to say, but she didn’t want to hear it. Britton was sick. He was just sick.

  The doctor reached a hand out toward her, but she swatted him away. “Aidan and Liam told me that Britton had been given the serum a little while before he started having the pain. I ran some tests.” He pinned her with his gaze. “His human side is rejecting the shifter side.”

  Wait. What? How was that even possible?

  Suddenly weak-kneed, Val groped behind her until her hand clamped on the arm of a chair. She dropped into it. Miles took a seat beside her. “Val, in less than a month he’s been given his beast back and had it taken away, only to have it returned again. It’s messed big-time with his body chemistry. The human DNA is now recognizing the weaker shifter DNA as a foreign object, a virus, and is trying to fight it. Think of it as an organ transplant, where the body attacks the new organ. It’s the same thing, except it’s the two DNAs battling each other.”

  A buzz of panic sounded in her ears. “What’s going to happen to him?”

  “Dea knows. It’s a wait-and-see scenario. The fight is taking its toll on his body. His liver enzymes, creatinine levels, and blood pressure are slowly rising, while his heart rate has decreased. None of the medicines we’ve tried are helping. Thankfully, in the time he’s been here the numbers have gotten only fractionally worse. The good news is, I believe even though the shifter DNA is in a weakened state, it’s still keeping him fairly stable, and is working to heal the damage.”

  “But?”

  “You know what I’m going to say. Shifters are hard to kill, but we’re not immortal. If this fight continues, if his blood panels get worse, he will go into organ failure. The damage will be too extensive even for his shifter DNA to heal.”

  “W-what about the Splycer?” The Splycer was an electrode treatment that had once saved Aidan’s mate’s life. Usually it was used to bring a half shifter’s latent shifter DNA to the surface after a traumatic injury. But it could also help with various other shifter traumas.

  “Britton’s not attached to his beast,” she said. “Maybe if you shocked him with the Splycer, his shifter DNA would become dominant like it’s supposed to be, and heal him.”

  “We’ve already tried that. A couple of times. And with each attempt, his heart rate dropped even further. We can’t chance using it again.”

  Desperation clawed at her. “Why didn’t it work? I don’t understand.”

  “He’s not a half shifter, Val. And the disconnection from his beast was not caused by natural shifter chemistry—it was artificially induced. When we shocked him, it caused his shifter DNA to become aggressive, which in turn caused the human genes to fight even harder, resulting in even more damage to his internal organs.”

  “Dea.” She pressed her hands to her face. There was another option. She’d lose him, but if it meant an end to his suffering, she’d take his hatred. “The serum. If you give it to him, it will make the shifter DNA dormant again. There would be nothing left for the human DNA to fight.”

  “It’s the shifter DNA that is keeping him alive. If we take that away, he could go into shock and we could still lose him. We’re also concerned about giving him that serum for a fourth time in less than a month. The three other times have completely screwed up his body. A fourth may push it right over the edge. There are too many variables, and right now we think taking a wait-and-see approach is the best option.”

  Val took a moment to absorb that. “Can I see him?”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “You need to be prepared. It’s not pretty. He’s in real agony.”

  She didn’t care. She needed to be with him. “I’ll deal. Take me to my mate.”

  Miles led her down a long hallway. As soon as they passed through a pair of mechanical doors, wails of suffering echoed off the walls. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to block out the effect of his screams on her emotions. She needed to be strong for him.

  Miles halted before the door where the cries were the loudest. “Ready?”

  She gave a jerky nod, and he opened the door. The volume of the anguish intensified, slapping her in the face. And the heart. As she forced her feet toward the man she loved curled in a fetal position on the bed, she had to keep herself from crying out along with him. His body spasmed as a long, drawn-out wail filled the room.

  A sob caught in her throat as she sat on the side of the bed. She brushed a lock of his dark hair off his forehead and stifled a gasp. His face was deathly pale and coated with sweat. His eyes were squeezed shut.

  “Hurts. Hurts,” he muttered between clenched teeth.

  She rubbed his shoulder. “Britton, it’s Val. I’m here, sweetheart.”

  His eyes suddenly snapped open. Violet surged through his irises. Then he rolled onto his back, body stiff, back arching off the bed, and the most horrible, anguished sound came from deep within him. It continued until she couldn’t stand it anymore. With a sob, she backed away from the bed.

  Then his body collapsed onto the mattress.

  Between wheezy gasps of air, he murmured six words that crushed her very
soul.

  “Get the fuck away from me.”

  …

  Britton was only conscious of the pain…the agony.

  Unrelenting.

  Never easing.

  Not one second of peace.

  Every fiber of his body felt as if it was on fire and he was being burned alive. Another ball of heat blasted through his middle. He jackknifed up, then rolled to his side, clutching his stomach, releasing a bellow he couldn’t contain.

  As the flare subsided, leaving behind the scorching throbbing of his veins, broken weeping erupted from between clenched teeth.

  He wanted it to end.

  Any way possible.

  Even death would be welcome.

  …

  Val hugged her knees to her chest and buried her face deep in the crook of her arm as the sounds of Britton’s pain tormented her.

  Twelve hours. Twelve long, excruciating hours of agony. By the end of the first hour, she’d started pleading with Dea to make him pass out. But he never did. Just screamed. And screamed.

  Continuously.

  Miles kept tabs on Britton’s panels. For the first few hours, they increased only marginally, but over the last two, they had spiked to an alarming level. The doctor hadn’t minced his words, letting Val know this was not a good sign.

  When she’d demanded that he give Britton the serum, he’d refused, saying if they administered the serum now, Britton would certainly die. Without the serum, there was still a chance—although slim—that he could pull through. They needed to give the shifter DNA more time to click back into place.

  She desperately wanted to be with Britton, but she hadn’t stepped foot inside that room since he’d told her to get away from him. She told herself not to take his demand personally. His eyes hadn’t been focused; he’d had no clue to whom he’d been talking.

  But she’d seen the way his pain had escalated when he’d made eye contact with her. If there was the smallest chance she made his suffering worse, she wouldn’t go near him.

  But she stayed outside his door, listening, weeping over his agony.

  Another howl strangled her, tightening her stomach until she was certain she would be sick.

  Then all at once, the sounds of anguish stopped. Like a light switch.

  Off.

  She snapped her head up, staring at the door, terror consuming her as she struggled to her feet.

  Miles and a team of nurses rushed past her into the room.

  Aidan, his mate, Jaylin, Liam, and Ava straightened away from the wall, the same expression of fear reflected on their faces. Aidan came over and put his arm around her to comfort her. She tried to shake off the gesture, but he only tightened his grip. Tears scorched her cheeks as she pressed her face against his chest. His other arm went around her and he held her tight.

  Minutes crawled by, feeling like hours, then Miles finally stepped out of Britton’s room.

  He looked at her. “He’s alive, but very weak.”

  Covering her face in her hands, her knees buckled. If it hadn’t been for Aidan, she would’ve fallen to the floor, but his arms anchored her.

  “His body finally shut down,” Miles continued grimly. “Val, his vitals aren’t good.”

  He didn’t say what he was thinking, but she heard his message loud and clear.

  Prepare for the worst.

  She wanted to scream at Miles for not giving Britton the serum the first time she’d asked. She wanted blame him for all of this, to believe that if Britton had received the serum he would’ve gotten better. She held her tongue. Stayed the recriminations. There would be time for blame later. Right now, she needed to be with her mate.

  “Can I see him?”

  With Britton unconscious, she couldn’t cause him more pain. She desperately wanted to see him, to hold his hand, talk to him, plead with him to return to her. To stay alive.

  Miles nodded. “For a minute. We’ve hooked him up to a feeding tube and IV drip to rehydrate him.”

  When she shuffled into the room, Britton lay on his back, a small tube threaded up his nose and an IV taped to the inside of his elbow. Wires that were attached to sticky pads on his chest spilled out from the collar of his hospital gown, measuring his heart rate. The beep of the machine was slow, erratic. A pressure cuff on his arm clicked, and the cuff automatically tightened.

  She edged closer. His face was waxen, tinged with yellow. Deep purple circles underlined his eyes. Sunken jaws made his cheekbones protrude. But the muscles in his face were relaxed, not contorted in torture, and she was thankful for that, at least.

  Taking his hand in hers, she leaned down and whispered, “Come back to me, baby. Please. Even if we can’t be together, just come back to me.”

  She studied his face for any sign that he heard her. No reaction, not even a twitch. He remained absolutely still.

  She stayed with him for a few more minutes, then Miles came in and said she had to let Britton rest. With a reluctant nod, she squeezed her mate’s hand, said, “I love you,” and slowly walked out.

  It went like that for the following twenty-four hours. She visited for minutes at a time, held his hand, told him how much she missed him, loved him. And he never moved. Not an eyelash.

  The doctor ran more tests. Both DNAs were still present, and Britton’s beast could be heard through the stethoscope, but Miles said that with Britton’s vitals not getting better, he was concerned that the damage was irreversible, and recommended she spend as much time with him as possible.

  While she still could was left unspoken.

  After days with no sleep, being told it was time to say good-bye to Britton threw her over the edge. She was inconsolable, babbling, hysterical. Miles tried to inject her with a sedative, but she fought, clawed, and slapped at him. Liam and Aidan finally had to hold her down. A sense of betrayal went through her as the drug sapped her ability to stay awake.

  As she slipped into unconsciousness, she muttered, “Damn you.”

  When she finally awoke, it was late the next morning.

  Instantly, memories assaulted her—Britton on death’s door, and his asshole friends robbing her of her last bit of time with him. Was he even still alive? Could she still sit beside him, and hold his hand, when he left this world for Anavrin?

  She jerked up, expecting to find herself in a hospital room, but her surroundings didn’t make sense. The walls were sage-colored. Her walls. Her bedroom. How had she gotten here? Why was she here and not at the hospital?

  Oh, Dea, no. Had Britton died while she was unconscious? Had Miles told Liam and Aidan to bring her here to break the awful news?

  Terror and panic tore at her as she shoved the covers aside and stumbled out of bed. She flew across the room and yanked the door open, expecting to find Liam, Aidan, and their mates waiting to console her. But what greeted her froze her to the spot.

  A tall figure stood in her living room, his back toward her, staring out the window.

  She’d know those powerful shoulders and that dark head anywhere.

  Britton!

  Then he turned. His gaze dropped to her feet, then slowly traveled up until they met her eyes.

  Then the sweetest smile she’d ever seen broke over his face. “Hey, beautiful.”

  As the strong resonance of his voice flowed over her, her chin trembled with emotion. She soaked in his handsome, utter perfection. She was dreaming or hallucinating from that drug Miles had forced into her.

  Because there was no way this Britton was real.

  He was too perfect. Too healthy.

  For two days, she’d watched his body waste away. But what had been pale and hollow yesterday, today was bright and full. Blue shimmered with violet. His smile tilted in that cocky, superior way that always made her heart stutter.

  The full weight of who she was losing barreled into her, dropping her to her knees. Uncontrollable tears started as she clutched her stomach. Their relationship was going to end before it had even begun. She would lose her mate befo
re fewsing to him. No future. No eternity. No Anavrin. Nothing.

  The last memory she had of Britton holding her was with his body shaking in terror. Their last kiss? A soft one right before they went off to battle.

  They were supposed to have more time. More memories. What she’d been gifted with, instead, was the never-ending agony of knowing her mate would soon be lost to her.

  Arms enveloped her, tugging her into a warm chest. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

  She pushed back on her knees and stared at him, feeling the warmth of his breath caress her face, the strength of his arms around her, how very solid he felt. “I— I don’t—”

  Worry brought his brows together as he thumbed the tears off her cheeks. “Baby, you’re scaring me. Talk to me.”

  He felt so real. Sounded so real. Her hand shook as she hesitantly reached up to touch his face, awed at the feel of smooth, freshly shaven skin. Violet flashed in his eyes as a low rumble vibrated in his chest, up his neck, then out those perfect, masculine lips. She traced them with the tip of her finger and he snared it between his teeth.

  She felt the nip all the way to her soul.

  “Dea, you’re real,” she whispered.

  “Real? Of course I’m real.”

  She blinked. She couldn’t find words, too terrified he was still only a dream.

  “Val?”

  “I’m not hallucinating…? Or dreaming? You’re actually here? Healthy?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly, cautiously. “I woke up about two hours ago.” He paused, then went slack-jawed with realization. “Shit, baby, I didn’t even think about how I must have looked to you while I was sick. You must think I’m a damn ghost or something. Dea, I’m such an idiot.” His expression softened. “Frankly, I was expecting more of a delighted squeal and you launching yourself into my arms sort of reaction.”

  She stared over at him in wonder. “But you were in awful shape yesterday. Pale. Gaunt. How can you look so…damn healthy?”

  He pulled back, then stood, helping her to her feet. Her legs shook as he led her to the couch. He gently pushed her to sit, then took a seat beside her, entwining his fingers with hers.