<b>Chapter </b><b>361 </b>
“I never meant to cause you conflict.” I whisper as I y with his hair.
?? ???? ?
“This is about yourfort. You tell me what would make youfortable taking medication <b>from </b>me. Neither answer is a show of mistrust.”
I continue my slow caressing of his head and hair, waiting for him to rx.
“Am I hurting you?” I whisper as he twitches every time I touch him.
“No.” He responds stiffly.
“Talk to me Cole, I know you’re ufortable with what I’m doing.”
“It’s unfamiliar.”
He keeps his exnation simple but it’s still heartbreaking to hear that my mate is unfamiliar with a loving,forting touch.
“Are you ready to try and take some medicine? I noticed you already pulled the Effexor out. What else do you need?”
“Ativan, some Zofran for my stomach.”
He whines quietly as I pull away and start searching for the medication he needs among the pile of pill bottles on the dresser. I can feel him watching me as I open the Ativan<b>, </b>take one out and return
to in front of him.
I ce the pill into his mouth, watching patiently for his spike in anxiety to result in him rejecting the sedative I just gave him. Once I’m satisfied that the pill has dissolved I return to going through his medication, pulling several pills out before cing them in his hands.
Considering his spike in anxiety that trying to answer my question created, I open the bottle of water and take a long drink before cing it into his other hand. I watch as he pops the hand full of pills into his mouth before finishing the water but his calmness is only temporary.
Once the bottle is empty, he stands suddenly with a fierce, frustrated growl. I keep my distance as he paces the floor between his bed and the window, from the bathroom door to the wall. His head is tucked down in submission. His hands aggressively move from his sides to his hair before he repeats
aintain my the actions. It’s obvious his agitated state is growing and it’s making it difficult
resolve to help him.
His pace quickens as his agitation turns to aggression. I can feel his anger and frustration growing through the bond.
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<b>Chapter </b><b>361 </b>
Shamefully I can’t <b>help </b>but start backing away into the <b>doorway</b><b>, </b><b>my </b>own <b>anxiety </b><b>getting </b>the best of me. I shake my head as my breathing quickens. The <bst </b>time I felt this <b>way </b><b>was </b><b>when </b>I <b>was </b>cornered by <b>Alpha </b>Maddox of the Purple Mountain pack. <b>He </b>and his beta had just <b>found </b><b>out </b><b>that </b>I was <b>an </b>empath while I was trying to stop one of their doctors from identally killing the beta’s <b>son</b>.
It has never been exined to me why most packs equate an empath with being feral<b>, </b>but <b>they </b><b>do</b><b>, </b>and every alpha before joining Alpha Demetri has purposely weakened me with silver before <b>abusing </b>and eventually raping me. I was convinced a long time ago that such treatment was the <b>standard </b><b>for </b>making a feral submit to the alpha’s demands.
As a child I was bold and confident, yet humble in my knowledge. By the time I reached <b>sixteen </b>and found myself kicked out of the fourth pack I had tried to join in the year since Alpha <b>Den </b>abandoned me, the bold, confident pup was long gone.
I yelp and turn to run as I bump into someone behind me. I ckout, pushing myself violently away from the firm body that strong arms are holding me against.
“It’s okay Jess. It’s just me.”
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