Ensnared

Chapter 8

Waking up in a strange bed is a given in Seth's world; he spends more time in hotel beds than his own. But it doesn't take him long to realize this is no luxury suite. There's a steady beep that's definitely not his alarm, everything is far too white, and the bed is too narrow and hard. Between a rock and a hard place, he thinks, opening one eye and seeing that his right leg is pressed up against the safety railing of a hospital bed. But it doesn't smell like a hospital. . . .

Then he opens his other eye and turns a bit to his left, and everything makes sense. Becky has managed to sandwich herself between him and the other railing and is so deeply asleep that he wouldn't know she was even breathing if her face weren't pressed to his shoulder, her body curved around his side like a shield. Her left arm is stretched across his chest, fingers curled lightly in the thin sheet. Her other arm is going to be so numb when she wakes up, he thinks absently, doing his best not to disturb her. Her breath ebbs and flows over his wound, and the rest of the story starts coming together. The run, the noose, the blood: Becky was frantically trying to help him out in the forest and she's still doing her best now, guarding his injury as best she can. She can't possibly be comfortable and he's not either, but in that moment, warm and content, he wouldn't move for all the world.

Seth can see three other beds in the room, the curtains between them all pulled back. Two of them are clearly assigned: the sheets are mussed on both, and some loose strands of Becky's tell-tale hair streaks across one of the pillows. He turns the slightest bit, only wanting to kiss the top of Becky's head, but her shoulders tense immediately. "Hey, hey." He reaches up with his free arm—the other is pinned beneath her, and just starting to wake—and grabs her elbow. "Nothing's wrong. But your feet are in the railing, so be careful when you move." Now that Becky's moved a bit, he can see one of her shoeless feet in between the bars; if she moves too suddenly, she could easily sprain or snap something.

"Sorry. Sorry." Becky rubs at her eyes before pointing towards the door. "Sasha went to make some calls," she says, the last word stretched out by a yawn, "and I . . . well, you weren't reacting well to whatever they gave you, so I wanted to keep an eye on you. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

As Seth pulls his hand away from Becky's arm, he flexes his fingers slowly. The serum that lets their systems mimic human physiology for short amounts of time has plenty of side effects, and most of them are magnified by a full moon. "Why did they give me anything?" he asks. Since Becky doesn't seem to be in a hurry to get up, he lets his free hand rest on her shoulder. "I thought I just needed an x-ray or something."

"You were. . . ." Becky's chuckle feels like sunshine against his shoulder and when she squirms a bit, Seth starts to prepare himself for the loss of her warmth, but she's only changing position, freeing her trapped arm and his. "Uncooperative, the nurses said. Probably a mixture of the serum and the moon," she adds, lowering her voice. "But the doctor said everything looks okay. There was no trace of poison, and you shouldn't have any scarring—"

"Because of you." Seth reaches for her hand on his chest and brings it up to his face. "What about you? How are your hands?" It wasn't just her warmth and her presence that helped him sleep, he realizes, but also her scent; she smells clean—but not clinical and sterile like the facility—and familiar. "No scars for you either?" Running his thumb over her palm, he can't feel any damage, but it takes him a few moments to stop regardless.

"No. Sasha and I are both good to go." The way she says Sasha's name is like invoking an element in a spell. "As soon as you feel clear-headed, we can—"

"Thank you." Seth brings her hand to his mouth again and echoes his gratitude against her palm. Watching her struggle between forms, risking her hands to help him, had hurt more than the snare ever could. "I should have—"

"Don't." For a moment, Seth's not sure what she means, but Becky makes no attempt to move her hand away. "You're okay and that's what matters."

Seth can feel her starting to retreat: her muscles are tensing up, her breathing is rapid, her fingers are twitching. He places a lingering kiss on her palm before letting go of her hand. "You'll still need to run. I can spot you—"

"I'll be fine." Then she's scrambling to sit up without touching him, gingerly easing her feet out from between the railings. There's not enough room for her to sit up unless she straddles him, though, so she ends up gripping his good shoulder for balance. "I'm glad you're okay," she says softly, leaning down to kiss his forehead. Then she swings a leg over the railing and steps on the visitor's chair beside the bed. Once she's off, she quickly jams her feet in her shoes and tucks the laces in. "Sasha will want to know that you're awake. I'll go find her." Before Seth can even draw a breath, she's at the door, out in the hallway, gone.

Less than a minute later, Sasha enters and glances around at the beds, looking confused. "Where's Becks?" Her phone dangles from her hand, screen dim.

Gripping the railings, Seth sits up slowly, feeling cold now that Becky's not cuddled up to him. He vaguely remembers not wearing a shirt to the hospital, but he's in a thin examination gown now. "She went to tell you I was awake—"

Sasha raises an eyebrow as she hops up on the bed next to his. "She was on your bed. Did you even try?"

It takes Seth a moment to clue in and as much as he would like to blame it on the drugs—on his injury, the lack of running, anything—he knows it's just him. Again. "Sasha, we're in a fucking hospital—"

"Medical facility," Sasha interjects, glancing down at her phone when she gets a notification. "That's Becks." She replies quickly and sets her phone aside. "So? You could have at least kissed her or something! If it wasn't for her, who knows what condition you'd be in?" She says the last with a combination of indignation and fear, hugging her arms around her middle.

"I kissed her hand." Seth's face scrunches up as soon as he says it. It's stupid and he has nothing to prove to Sasha or anyone else, but now that Sasha's brought it up, he knows he missed out on a chance to let Becky know how he feels. She would just say it was the drugs, he tells himself, but after hearing the anguish in her voice when she was screaming for Sasha to come back, he's not so sure about that.

"Oh, her hand! Her hand!" Rolling her eyes, Sasha slides off the bed and goes over to his, wrapping him in a fierce hug. "Someone call Jane Austen. We have a scandal in our midst."

Seth's just about to reply when Becky returns. "Sorry. Must have gone the wrong way. I told a nurse we were ready to go, and she's going to have the doctor come by to check Seth's neck before we leave." Then she grabs the keys from Sasha's purse. "He'll need a shirt, though. I'll go grab one. Be right back."

Sasha at least waits until Becky's gone to swear. "Maybe I should stop fucking both of you and then you'll come to your senses," she mutters, kissing Seth before going back to her bed and gathering her things and then Becky's.

SOMETHING has to stop, Seth thinks. Stop or start, one of the two, because it can't stay the way it is for much longer before someone in their little pack snaps.