Ariadne: Almost an Alpha | ✓

Chapter 33 - Let Me Help You

Chapter 33 - Let Me Help You 

"Yes, it's me, Ariadne." His eyes are desperate, pleading. "Give them to me, Ariadne, please, before you hurt yourself."

I look at his hands gripping mine which are in turn gripping the large fighting knives. "Oh," I say weakly. My head is still pounding, and I'm finding it hard to concentrate. "Okay." I loosen my grip on the handle, and he takes them out of my hands before the blades can cut through my skin.

He sets them down on the bed, and I look down at myself. I'm covered in sweat, not blood. It's sweat droplets dripping down my chest.

He kneels in front of me and his hands come up to cup my face. "Ariadne, you're burning up. Are you ok? Should I call a doctor?"

"Alpha? I heard yelling. Is something wrong?" I hear someone ask as they rush into the room. Was the door wide open?

Mateus looks down at me worriedly before he gets up and walks to the door. I can't see whoever it is from the floor on this side of the bed. They talk in low voices for a few minutes as I fight the pressure in my skull. It feels like my head is going to explode from the inside out. Sweat drips down my brow. I feel my stomach twisting, and I get up to run to the toilet. I clench the cold porcelain in my hands while my stomach heaves up its contents.

The toilet bowl starts spinning, and not even caring about cleanliness, I lean my head against the seat as I puke a second time.

Mateus comes into the bathroom. "Ariadne, I'm going to call the doctor. You're sick."

"No," I manage to get out, the sound muffled by the toilet bowl.

"I'm not fighting you on this. I contacted him just now. He's on his way."

I lift my head up as the vice grip around it tightens. "No, I'm fine. It'll stop in an hour."

I vomit a third time, but by now, it's just bile. The acid coats my teeth.

"Tell the doctor to turn around." I put more force into my words this time. "It'll stop. I promise. This has happened before."

He stands there for a minute, and we just look at each other in the silence while I try to repress the urge to vomit again.

"Ok," he replies finally, defeated, "but I'm telling him to come if it doesn't." He walks over to the sink and grabs something off the ledge.

I put my head back down on the porcelain and sense him sitting down beside me. I don't even know how he knows how to use a hair tie, but he manages to wrestle my messy curls into a low ponytail while my stomach involuntary expels the rest of its stupid bile.

The pressure in my head increases and, clenching my teeth, I groan. My body feels like it's on fire, and I can barely feel Mateus' hands rubbing up and down my back.

I focus on breathing, on the cool feeling of my cheek on the toilet seat, on anything but the damn pain. Water starts oozing out of my eyes, mixing in with the sweat running down my cheeks. I need to cool down, so I can focus on blocking Him out better. I make a move to stand, and Mateus helps me up, grabbing me from under my arms.

"Get out," I tell him.

"No." His tone is absolute.

I try to shove him away.

"Let me help you."

"Fine." I don't feel like arguing about it.

Not in the mood to care, I begin to strip, pulling my shirt over my head. Now completely topless, I wrestle with the tie around the waist of my shorts when he, looking very uncomfortable, asks, "What are you doing?"