Free Web NovelChapter 43: My Salvation
Lorali Pov
Dr. Quid adjusts his spectacles, his eyes narrowing as he leans closer. His voice is calm, clinical, and precise as it cuts through the silence. "When was your last heat?"
The question stuns me. My body stiffens, my breath catches, and I feel the sharp glare of his pencil‑sized light flashing across my pupils. The brightness burns, forcing me to squint, my discomfort rising with every second. Why am I even here? Why am I sitting in front of a doctor as if I’m some fragile patient? I’m perfectly fine. Yes, I may look no better than a monster, and yes, vines have spread across my skin, twisting and burrowing with a pain that never truly fades but none of that makes me sick.
I know the truth. They didn’t bring a doctor here out of concern. No, this is something else. They must be planning to prove I’m unwell, to brand me as diseased, and then send me off to some hospital or facility where I’ll be locked away, hidden from sight, discarded like a problem no one wants to face. The thought coils in my chest, heavy and suffocating, as Dr. Quid’s light lingers in my eyes, searching for something I refuse to admit exists.
"What does that mean?" I whisper as I squint against the brightness, trying not to close my eyes.
"You know, the cycle that begins once you turn twenty. You are twenty, aren’t you?" He slips the flashlight back into his pocket before he flashes me with a worried look.
"No. I’m twenty‑one. My birthday was a month ago." The words tumble out, heavy with bitterness. It had been one sad birthday, though it would have been sadder if it were my real one. June 21 isn’t the day I was born, it’s the day I arrived at the orphanage. My parents abandoned me with nothing, not even a note of when I came into the world. So June 21 became my birthday, a date carved into me by circumstance rather than love.
Dr. Quid hums thoughtfully, then turns his gaze to Torin. "Then perhaps you can confirm for me, when was her last heat?"
Torin freezes. His jaw tightens, his shoulders stiffen, and his eyes flick nervously toward me. He looks like a man caught in a trap, his composure cracking.
I scoff inwardly. How would he know? He was never here. He never bothered to be here.
freёwebnovel.com
Before Torin can stammer out an answer, I speak, my voice low. "I haven’t had my heat."
The doctor’s expression falters. For a moment, worry flashes across his face, raw and undeniable but he masks it quickly, smoothing his features into professional calm probably thinking I didn’t see his expression, but I did see it.
"Is that... a problem?" I ask uncertainly.
"No, no," Dr. Quid replies swiftly, shaking his head. "Everything is fine. Perfectly fine."
I force myself to believe him not because he is in any way convincing but because I don’t want to worry about my health anymore then I already am.
Torin finally lifts his hand off my shoulders, filling them with relief "Doctor, if there is something wrong, I need to know." His tone is firm, he sounds like one of those husbands in movies that actually care about their wives.
Dr. Quid raises a hand, dismissive. "There is nothing wrong. She is fine. Let us continue."
He leans forward again, his hands moving with practiced precision. "Do you feel pain anywhere?" he asks, pressing lightly against my arm, then my shoulder.
"I’m perfectly fine," I lie, ignoring the throbbing ache that pulses through me. Torin’s eyes narrow. "She’s not fine. I’ve seen her wince. Don’t lie to him, Lorali."
I glare at him, but bring my gaze back down. "I said I’m fine." Dr. Quid frowns, adjusting his spectacles again. "You are extremely malnourished," he says bluntly. "It will take time before you regain your full energy."
I nod, though inside I think, Tell me something I don’t already know.
He doesn’t stop there. "You must stop using all those descending products. They are suffocating your skin." His tone sharpens, and then he turns his gaze to Torin. "And frankly, it is disgraceful that your pack allowed her to reach this state. Neglect of this kind is unacceptable."
Torin’s face hardens, his jaw clenched. "I entrusted them to care for her. I didn’t know—"
"That is precisely the problem," Dr. Quid interrupts, his voice stern. "You didn’t know. You should have known. You are her mate. You are her Alpha, the responsibility falls on you."
Torin’s lips press into a thin line and he doesn’t argue back. A flicker of satisfaction warms me. A small smile tugs at my lips, though I keep it hidden, not letting Torin see it.
Dr. Quid finishes his check, packing away his tools with care. He straightens his suit, then looks to Torin. "I’ll need to speak with you privately. There are prescriptions to discuss."
Torin nods, his voice steady. "Of course." He turns to me, his eyes softening. "Wait here, Sugar Plum. I’ll be right back." And then, he leans down and kisses my forehead.
My heart pounds against my chest. My face burns with color. He kissed me. Right here. And he called me Sugar Plum.
Dr. Quid clears his throat, adjusting his suitcase. "Come, Torin. We have much to discuss."
Torin straightens, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer. "I’ll be back soon," he promises, his voice low, almost tender. I nod, unable to speak. They leave together, the door closing softly behind them.
I sit frozen, my hand rising to my forehead where his lips had touched. My skin tingles, my blood races. He kissed me, actually kissed me and it felt so different then when Oracle kissed me this one was gentle.
Even if I am still unsure whether his affection can be trusted, I cannot stop myself from falling for him.
I fall sideways onto the couch, burying my face in my hands, my cheeks burning. I’m so easy, tiny affections have me losing my mind, unraveling me in ways I don’t want to admit.
A few minutes go by and before I know it, the door creaks open again, and Torin steps back inside. His expression is tight, his shoulders tense and his eyes shadowed with heavy guilt. He looks stressed, as though whatever conversation he had with Dr. Quid drained him. For a moment, he just stares at me appearing to be lost in thought before he crosses the room in long strides.
Without a word, he pulls me into his arms. His sudden embrace filled me with unshakeable warmth. "I’m sorry," he whispers against my hair, his voice breaking. "I’m so sorry for everything. For not being here. For letting things get this bad."
I freeze, confused, caught in the cage of his arms. His warmth seeps into me, his scent wrapping around me like a blanket, and I don’t know how to react. My heart pounds, my body stiffens, but I don’t push him away even though I know I should. I could stay in his embrace forever and not have a problem with it.
Then, without warning, his arms slide beneath me, lifting me effortlessly. I still, my breath caught in my throat as my hands clutching at his shirt. He carries me down the hall, his steps steady, his grip protective, as though I’m something fragile he refuses to let break. freeωebnovēl.c૦m
Back in the guest room, he lowers me gently onto the bed, his movements, careful. He kneels beside me, his eyes glistening. "I’ll help you back to health," he vows, his voice trembling with emotion. "I’ll do everything in my power to set this right. I swear it."
His tears fall, streaking down his face, and the sight shatters something inside me, no one has ever cried for me or showed me this much concern since I got it. He is the first to even talk to me like a person. My own tears spill hot against my cheeks and uncontrollable. I try to hide them, but the sobs escape anyway.
Torin panics. "No, no, don’t cry," he pleads, his hands fumbling as he wipes at my cheeks, brushing away the tears. "Please, Sugar Plum, don’t cry. I can’t stand it." His touch is frantic, desperate, but the more he tries, the harder I cry.
He stops, staring at me, his chest heaving. Then, suddenly, he says something unexpected, something so ridiculous it startles me out of my grief. "Did you know that you are statistically more likely to be killed by a falling vending machine than by a shark. Sharks kill about 5 to 10 people globally per year, whereas vending machines crush 10 to 15 people annually, usually because someone was shaking the machine for a stuck snack." the words rush out of his mouth and I blink at him stunned, and then a laugh bursts out of me, soft and sudden. My tears slow, replaced by shaky giggles as I wipe my cheeks.
Torin exhales in relief, his lips curving into a small smile. He pulls me back into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. His embrace is firm, protective, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. I breathe in his musk scent, earthy and grounding, and it fills me with calm.
"I’ll make things right," he murmurs, his voice steady now. "I promise you, Lorali. No matter what it takes, I’ll make this right."
And for the first time, I let myself believe him, maybe he is the light that will shine upon my dark life and my salvation to save me from the abyss
