Page 112 of Heat Lightning

“Atlas, you’re not well,” I answered, fear in my voice. I wasn’t afraid of him, but for him. Even during the peak of my heat, he’d kept his wits about him more than this.

“Stay,” he reiterated, but he was almost too weak to hold on to me, and his hand fell to the bed when I pulled away. I tugged off his shoes and pants and plopped his legs onto the bed, tucking him in. Too afraid I’d hurt his arm and make it bleed again, I left his hoodie on.

All the while, Mr. Marino watched, silent, from the door.

“What do we do?” I asked, voice hushed.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

Atlas’ eyes darted behind closed lids, and he reached for me. I held his hand to my chest and kissed the back of it.

My omega whined, begging to curl up on his chest and lick his wounds better. Seeing Atlas this way was like taking a knife to the heart.

It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, my omega chanted. Alpha needs us. We can help him. We can make him better.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before a motorcycle rumbled into the drive. It was one of those crazy-fast crotch rockets that looked more like a death wish than a mode of transportation, but to each their own.

The petite omega riding it swung his leg over the bike and removed his helmet to reveal one of the prettiest men I’d ever seen.

With dark, cropped hair, big, blue eyes, and tattoo sleeves crawling up both exposed forearms, he screamed bad boy, even while dressed in scrubs with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

My omega snarled. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end when he approached the front door.

He looked just like every beautiful, world-wise, better-than-me omega I’d pictured Atlas with when he said he’d tried to fix his rut with other people.

Mine, my omega snarled. This is mate’s den, and he’s mine. Get out.

Instinctively, I threw an arm across the door, barring the omega's entry. “You can’t come in,” I said, baring my teeth.

Where the fuck had that come from? Atlas needs help, I reminded my omega.

We’re the only ones who can help, he snarled back.

“Max,” Mr. Marino said carefully. “Miles is here to help. He’s a nurse and works at the clinic. Atlas needs him.”

Alpha doesn’t need anyone but us, my omega said with a flick of its tail.

“I know that,” I replied, words clipped, but my arm didn’t budge.

Later, I’d be embarrassed about this, but right now, the omega wasn’t getting past the door. “If he’s such a good nurse, he can help from outside.”

The omega raised an eyebrow and scented the air. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled under his breath. “When you told me your brother was shot while in rut and wouldn’t stop bleeding, you left out the part about a territorial mate.”

“This is… new,” Mr. Marino responded, looking at me oddly.

The nurse leveled Mr. Marino with an accusing glare. “I had to get someone to cover my shift for this. If I’d known I’d be barred from entry, this would’ve been a phone call.”

How dare he think his stupid job was more important than helping my mate?

He can help even more if you let him inside, you know.

Nonsense.

“My apologies.” Was that a smirk in Mr. Marino’s voice?

The tattooed nurse rolled his eyes. “Where was he shot?”

“Arm,” I answered.