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“What are you doing?”
That disapproving rumble seems to come from that festering, mutilated place in my chest as much as from the seat by the door.
I set my jaw against the dark tangle of emotion threatening to flood my system at the mere sound of his voice. I don’t answer until there is nothing left but smooth, calm control. “Getting blankets.” I yank at the IV with more force than is smart, then hiss out another curse at the sickening sensation of the needle moving inside my vein.
His chair scrapes behind me, and through that twisted link lodged near my heart, Ifeelhis intention. Feelhim.
“Stay!” I snarl with enough force to make his body lock up, the sear of my command ghosting from his chip and back through our bond. I raise my IV-free hand to rub at the unpleasant sensation in my chest, only stilling when I realize why it feels like that.
“I don’t need help.” I say the words and immediately regret them. Offering an explanation—it’s a concession. An acknowledgment that things are different, after the bunker. ThatI’mdifferent.
But I’m not. I refuse to be.
He doesn’t answer me.
I manage to pull the IV out and not lose my balance when I stand. Coldness seeps from the floor through my socks, and echoes of discomfort grip my pelvis with every step. I grit my teeth and push down the sensation, along with the memories it tries to force to the forefront of my mind, focusing solely on the pile of blankets bathed in light from the large window.
When the doctor enters my room a few minutes later, I’ve returned to my bed and am buried under all five of them, but my body still hasn’t warmed.
“Mrs.—Dr.Thompson,” the man in the white lab coat corrects himself, offering me a brief smile before his gaze goes to his side where AX2 is still standing. “Mr. Thompson.”
Mr. Thompson.No. No, no,no.I can already tell what’s about to happen, what the doctor’s going to say when he next opens his mouth—and who he’s going to say it to.
There’s a screeching tone somewhere at the back of my skull, and I only barely manage to keep myself from screaming. Instead, I force my body upright in the bed and inject as much authority as I can into my voice when I say, “I need you to run me through any procedures I’ve undergone since arriving here, and then you will have to make out a list of prescriptions. I will be leaving today.”
The doctor clears his throat, eyebrows rising high on his forehead. “I can’t approve a discharge yet, Dr. Thompson. Your body is healing fine, but—”
“Nevertheless, that is what will happen,” I interrupt him. “What treatments have I undergone? I assume you’ve administered antibiotics? Antiretrovirals?”
He hesitates for another second, but then nods. “Along with temazepam, for the first couple of days, to allow your body and mind rest. There was some vaginal trauma.” He flicks his gaze down to the clipboard in his hands, scanning the page. “But not enough to require surgery. A nurse administered a saline cleanse, and the cocktail of antibiotics have prevented infection. Your mate claim is healing nicely as well.”
My mate claim.
I draw in a deep breath, forcing numbness to fill my brain as the words wash over me—to feel nothing when I ask, “Have you done a pregnancy test?”
His gaze flicks briefly to AX2. “Yes. As we have already informed your husband, you did not conceive during either claiming.”
“My husband?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, that screeching at the back of my brain too loud to drown out. “I don’t have ahusband.”
The doctor’s only response to my outburst is to place an empathetic hand on AX2’s bicep. “Many newly claimed women take a little time to settle in, especially after a… problematic mating. I would strongly advise you to leave your wife in our care for at least another week, Mr. Thompson, to ensure her long-term wellbeing.”
This isn’t happening. It can’t be.
I look at the two men in my hospital room, their faces distorting to a blur—one in a lab coat just like my own, the other… The other isn’t even truly a man. He is a piece of machinery I welded myself, more robot than human, and yet… And yet even here, after I was finally saved, after I survived when I really shouldn’t have,heis the one who gets to decide what happens to me.
The horror of my situation freezes my brain, and I don’t—I can’t think.Can’t breathe.
Only when AX2 grunts, “She decides,” does the knowledge that I can still command him return.
Idecide. Me. Even now. No matter what society will try to dictate, no matter whetherhethinks the balance has shifted between us, now that… now that we are…
I don’t finish the thought, but my trembling hand returns to the bandage on my neck.
“Very well. I will fetch the relevant paperwork.” The doctor gives us both a nod before he exits, leaving the room in the same deafening silence as before.
It lasts until a sob cuts through the air. “Addie!”
I look up just in time to see my mom rush through the door.
