Chapter 4: The Dissolution Request
1483 Words
The Roarke house had prepared the wrong room.
Vespera Morcant stood inside the main suite the next morning while Sable Wythe argued with a staff member in the hall. Fresh sheets covered the bed she had shared with Tavian. Two pillows had been stacked upright. A tray waited on the nightstand with tea, pain medication, and a vase of white flowers.
Someone had removed the small wooden cradle brochure Vespera had hidden in the bottom drawer.
She had bought it three days ago.
Sable entered carrying Vespera’s clinic bag. “I told them you need the ground-floor guest room.”
“I can manage the stairs.”
“You fainted while signing the discharge sheet.”
“I became light-headed.”
“You woke up on a nurse.”
Vespera took the bag from her. Sable did not release it.
“You are not working today,” Sable said.
“I am changing rooms.”
“Why?”
Vespera looked at the bed.
Sable released the bag.
“All right,” she said. “But you don’t carry anything heavier than that.”
The house was quiet. Tavian Roarke had returned before them, but his car had not been alone in the drive. Mirelle’s blue sedan stood near the side entrance.
“Where is he?” Vespera asked.
The staff member glanced down the corridor. “Alpha Roarke is in the east guest suite. Miss Dacre’s burn became painful overnight.”
Sable’s mouth compressed.
“Did you examine her?” Vespera asked.
“For four minutes. Superficial scent-gland irritation. I gave her a cooling gel and sent her to general care.”
“Tavian brought her here anyway.”
“He said she shouldn’t be alone.”
The ground-floor guest room had once been used for visiting elders who could not climb stairs. Vespera had chosen the mattress herself after Garran complained the old one hurt his back.
She took the clinic bag downstairs.
Halfway there, the pain in her abdomen forced her to stop. Sable put one hand beneath her elbow without commenting. They waited until Vespera could move again.
The guest room smelled unused. A folded blanket sat at the foot of the narrow bed. The curtains remained open to the front drive.
Vespera placed her phone on the bedside table, where she could reach it without twisting.
“Lie down,” Sable said.
“I need ten minutes.”
“For what?”
“The clinic supply approvals.”
“No.”
“The order closes at noon.”
“Then it closes.”
“People need those supplies.”
“Someone else can approve them.”
Vespera opened the clinic account on her phone. Her access code filled itself in.
A message from Tavian appeared over the screen.
We need to talk.
Sable read it from where she stood. “Do you want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
The answer came before Vespera could make it polite.
Sable pulled the only chair closer to the bed and sat.
Tavian entered several minutes later. He had changed clothes, but the shirt was creased. A strip of silver cooling cloth protruded from his pocket.
He stopped when he saw Sable.
“This is private.”
“No,” Vespera said.
Sable folded her arms.
Tavian closed the door behind him. His gaze moved over the narrow room. “Why are you down here?”
“It was available.”
“Our room is upstairs.”
“This one is mine now.”
He started to answer, then looked at the clinic bag on the floor. “You should still be under observation.”
“She should,” Sable said. “She refused.”
“I wanted to come home.”
Vespera did not explain that the clinic had contained the monitor, the procedure suite, and Mirelle in Tavian’s arms. Home had contained none of those things when she made the decision.
Now it contained Mirelle.
Tavian moved toward the bed. “I’m sorry about the pup.”
Sable rose, but Vespera lifted one hand.
The healer remained beside the chair.
Tavian sat on the edge of the mattress. Vespera moved her feet away before his weight shifted them.
“I should have answered sooner,” he said.
“You answered once.”
“I didn’t understand how bad it was.”
“Sable told you.”
“Mirelle was having trouble breathing.”
“Her airway was clear.”
“I didn’t know that then.”
“You knew the fetal rhythm was unstable.”
His gaze lowered to the blanket. “I thought you were stable enough to reach the clinic.”
Vespera picked up her phone. The clinic order remained open beneath his message. One press would complete the approval.
She locked the screen.
Tavian noticed.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You were working.”
“I stopped.”
The words disturbed him more than she expected. He looked toward the clinic bag as if it might contain an explanation.
“Vespera, yesterday was a disaster. I made the wrong judgment.”
“You made several.”
“I said I’m sorry.”
Sable shifted near the chair. Tavian did not look at her.
“I had Mirelle in my arms,” he continued. “She was shaking. You had Sable with you.”
“I called because I needed you.”
“You needed authorization.”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t the same as needing me physically.”
The provisional mark below Vespera’s collarbone ached beneath her blouse.
She had thought his presence might have saved the pup. She had thought his scent would settle her heat, his hand would hold hers, and his voice would give her something to follow through the pain.
Tavian had reduced it to a signature.
Even that, he had withheld.
“You still did not give it,” she said.
“I was coming to sign at the clinic.”
“After Mirelle could travel.”
“She could not stand.”
“She stood when Sable examined her.”
Tavian looked toward Sable.
The healer met his gaze. “She walked from your arms to the assessment chair.”
A faint sound came from the hall. A woman speaking to a staff member. Mirelle’s voice was low and strained enough to travel through the closed door.
Tavian turned his head.
Vespera watched him listen.
He caught himself before he rose.
“I’ll ask her to leave when she’s rested,” he said.
“That is not why I came downstairs.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Another late question.
Vespera opened her phone and called the pack registrar’s office. Tavian stared at the screen in her hand.
An automated message answered. Offices opened in nine minutes.
She ended the call.
“What was that?” he asked.
“The registrar.”
“For what?”
“The provisional mating claim.”
Tavian stood. “No.”
Sable moved between him and the head of the bed.
Vespera pushed the blanket aside. Pain crossed her abdomen when she sat upright, but she kept her feet on the floor.
“You are injured,” Tavian said. “You lost our pup yesterday. This is not the time to make decisions.”
“It is exactly the time.”
“You’re in shock.”
“I know where I am.”
“You came home.”
“Because my clothes and records are here.”
His scent sharpened. It pressed against the small room, familiar enough that Vespera’s body recognized it before her mind could reject it.
Tavian took one step toward her.
“We have been together four years.”
“And yesterday, you chose where to spend two of the hours that mattered.”
“I chose an injured pack member.”
“You chose Mirelle after you knew about the pup.”
“She was in front of me.”
“So was I when you entered the ward.”
The words stopped him.
Vespera reached for the tea on the nightstand. Her hand shook against the cup, and she set it down without drinking.
Tavian saw the tremor. “Rest. We’ll discuss this in a week.”
“No.”
“Vespera.”
“I will not spend a week repairing your comfort before I’m allowed to name what you did.”
His mouth opened.
A knock sounded at the door.
The staff member entered holding an office handset. “The registrar returned Miss Morcant’s call.”
Tavian looked at the phone.
Vespera held out her hand.
The staff member crossed the room and gave it to her.
“Vespera, don’t,” Tavian said.
She raised the handset to her ear.
“This is Vespera Morcant. Send me the forms to dissolve Tavian Roarke’s provisional mate claim.”
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