Mated To My Obsessive Foster Brother

Chapter 2

~•Olivia•~

I woke up lying on a white bed, the steady beep of a medical device near my head.

My eyes took in my surroundings—I was in the pack hospital. The thick smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils. As my vision cleared, I saw him.

Mark George.

He wore a yellow sportswear and blue shorts—his basketball uniform for the pack's match against a neighbouring pack.

"What is he doing here?" I wondered, trying to move my hand. I didn't know how long I'd been out. A nurse saw me stir and screamed, "She's awake, Doctor!"

That's when I noticed the bandages wrapped around my head. The last thing I remembered was my foster mother's brutal beating that morning, after Mark had defended me for the first time. Now he was here. What did he want? Who brought me to the hospital? Questions flooded my head, compounding the ache.

Thankfully, my foster mother and Emily weren't in this room. That was a relief. But sadness crept in—I wouldn't be able to further my education at the pack university.

"You're finally awake," Mark said, rushing to my bedside.

I recoiled, trying to sit up, but he frowned. Mark had always avoided me. Why was he acting like he cared now? I didn't want another beating. Best he kept his distance.

When I tried to speak, my throat was too sore—only croaked words escaped. Surprisingly, Mark brought his bottle of water to my lips. His earthy scent of pine filled my nostrils as he positioned the bottle. His right hand instinctively reached for my back, helping me sit up.

"Here, drink some water," he said.

I froze. But my throat was too dry. The nurse returned with a doctor, and they approached my bed. I realised I was the only patient in this room.

"Good morning, Miss Olivia. You're finally awake. Any headache?" asked the male doctor in a white coat, black trousers and shoes. He held a file, assessing the monitor.

"Yes. My head aches. Since when was I brought in?" I asked hoarsely, my throat still dry even after drinking. I couldn't drink much—I could taste Mark's lips on the bottle. And his eyes watched me intensely, with a look of worry that made me uncomfortable.

Why was Mark watching me like a predator? He didn't care about me, right? He just wanted to ensure his mother hadn't killed me—otherwise, she'd be sent to jail for murder, I guessed.

The doctor cleared his throat. "You were brought in three days ago and fell into a coma. Thankfully, you only suffered a wound. We feared memory loss or severe head injury from the level of your attack."

I scowled. He assured me, "Don't worry, you're improving fine. Even though you're an ordinary Omega."

The words "ordinary Omega" stung, but I forced a tight smile. "Thank you, Doctor."

"You can call me Dr. Sam," he said with a charming smile. He was a young man, but Mark—standing a few feet away—coughed, making his presence known.

"Doctor, how is Olivia's health? Will she be discharged today?" Mark asked, his eyes fixed on me.

I felt uncomfortable under his stare. I had so many questions for Dr. Sam—who had brought me here? I clearly remembered Mark driving off in his car.

Dr. Sam cleared his throat. "Your sister Olivia is improving well. She'll be discharged tomorrow. We need to keep a close watch to ensure no traumatic head injury. And kindly warn your mother to desist from hitting Olivia to that extent again. If this occurs, I will personally report her to Alpha Johnson and have her arrested."

Mark's gaze hardened. I met his eyes then lowered my head.

"She's not my sister, Doctor," he replied, his voice cold. My heart cringed.

"I know. That's why I'm warning you and your family to abstain from child abuse. The next time this happens, it won't end here. Excuse me—I have other patients." Dr. Sam walked out with the nurse.

The atmosphere grew tense. Mark strolled to my bed. I didn't want to raise my head. I could feel his eyes on me, making me nervous with my swollen face.

As he neared, I held my breath—his pine scent filled my nostrils. His hand reached for mine, and sparks shot through my skin. I quickly withdrew my hand like it burned, still refusing to look at him.

"I'm sorry about what my mother and sister did to you," Mark said, his voice soft.

I lowered my head and nodded. "You don't have to apologize. It's fine. Just stay away from me, and there'll be peace."

"Mm," he hummed. "What if I can't stay away? What if I want you?"

"Huh?" I raised my head and met his gaze—my eyes locking with his desirous stare.