Saving Isadore [MxM] (An Alpha's Fight Book 1)

Chapter 27

ISADORE ¤ POV

I fell asleep that night in Aaron's bed, with him plastered, naked, up against me. He'd insisted on sleeping skin to skin and was wrapped around me like a vine, restricting my movements and causing sweat to form between our smothered bodies. But I couldn't find it in me to deny the still vulnerable omega his desires.

Although Aaron's heat had subsided, his hormones were still amplified, causing his needy, dependent behaviour and as his alpha, I tried my best to satisfy him the best that I could. Eventually, I fell asleep in the dark room with Aaron's head tucked under my chin, his curly hair tickling my lips.

The dream I had had that night was vivid, much like my nightmares, but something was... off. 

I was back in my childhood bedroom and the familiar sight of the bloodied carpets and blankets between Tarlo and I's beds sent nausea rolling through my stomach. The familiar scene was already causing panic, but something was different.

I looked around, trying to find Tarlo or catch wind of his taunting giggles and haunting head injury, but he was nowhere to be found. I was paralysed with fear, my head whipping left and right as the room slowly faded to black. That continued to happen for what felt like hours, my surroundings fading in and out around me like the dramatic ending of a movie.

Eventually I began to hear it, the sniffles emanating from under one of the beds - my bed. The fear that had paralysed me had dwindled with the progression of time, so I timidly walked towards the bed and knelt, taking a deep breath of courage as I tilted forward to look beneath the frame.

Tarlo was under there, curled up in a tight ball, sniffling into his knees. He was lying in a pool of dark red, almost black looking blood and the sight of his brains spilling out of his caved skull made me want to wretch, but I managed to swallow it back, trembling as I did so.

"T-Tarlo?" I dared to whisper. What was wrong with him? This wasn't like anything I'd ever dreamt about before and I was almost too stunned to throw myself into a panicked seizure. My little brother shook his head, curling up tighter beneath the bed, out of reach.

I took a deep breath and did something I never thought I'd ever do. Instead of running from the bloodied corpse that was my little brother, I edged closer, lying flat on my back and shuffling under the bed after him. As long as I kept my eyes on his little face and not on his deformed head, I could clamp down the bile in my throat.

"Why are you crying?" I whispered the question, my eyes watering as the metallic, bitter scent of his blood overwhelmed me. Tarlo shook his head, but I reached out and offered him my shaking hand. Eventually he took it, uncurling his knees so that we could meet eyes. His large brown ones, forever innocent with the youth he possessed at the time of his death, were shimmering with tears when they met mine.

I curled my hand tighter around his own, holding it tightly. He was cold. "Talk to me."

"Are you going to forget about me, now that you have Aaron?" He asked, a sob tearing from the back of his throat. The sound rickashayed around my ears, causing tears of guilt to spring up in my own eyes.

"No," I whispered, feeling choked up myself as tears tumbled down my face to mix with the bloody pool atop the carpet. "I could never forget about you."

He shook his head vehemently and blood splattered across my cheek. "You have daddy and Maverick and Nana and now Aaron. You're going to forget everything and I'll have no one. That's not fair. That's not fair!"

"Y-You said Nana was coming here," I managed to force out, feeling confused and lost by the new turn our conversation had taken. What were these new emotions thrumming through me and what did they mean? The familiar guilt was ever present, but the fear and the terror and the exhaustion was missing. I felt oddly... okay.