CHAPTER 6 ~ BEAU'S POV

Rhett's fingers easily manipulate the remaining buttons on my tailored shirt, and I desperately want to push his hands away to preserve my dignity, but my heavy arms absolutely refuse to lift from my sides. The massive dose of experimental suppressants is currently surging through my bloodstream, and the violent chemical reaction is creating a severe wave of dizziness inside my head. Seth remains standing perfectly still beside the bathroom door, and his hazel eyes closely monitor my erratic breathing while he keeps his broad shoulders squared in a highly protective stance.

"You can analyze my story later," I whisper weakly, and I let my head drop forward slightly because my neck muscles can no longer support the weight. "My core temperature is rising too fast, and I just need to get into the cold water before my body completely shuts down on your floor. You promised you would help me lower my fever, Rhett, so please stop interrogating me for five minutes."

Rhett nods slowly, and his expression softens just a fraction as he recognizes the genuine physical pain in my voice. He firmly grips the edges of my open shirt to slide the expensive fabric off my shoulders, and he tosses the ruined garment onto the marble counter. The cool air of the bathroom hits my bare chest, and an involuntary shiver travels down my spine, yet the internal heat completely overpowers the external chill.

The bathroom door opens wider, and Dean walks into the room carrying a large glass pitcher filled with ice cubes and water. He also holds several thick white towels under his left arm, and he sets the heavy pitcher down on the marble vanity next to the sink. The ice clinks loudly against the glass, and the sound is incredibly sharp in the quiet room.

"I brought the coldest water I could find in the kitchen, and I instructed the private chef to prepare a clear broth for later," Dean says calmly, and he reaches into the wooden cabinet to retrieve a clean drinking glass. He pours the freezing liquid into the cup and walks directly over to me, while Rhett steps back slightly to give him full access. The seamless way the three men shift around each other highlights their deep familiarity, and they operate as a completely unified team without needing to speak any verbal commands.

Dean presses the cold rim of the glass against my lower lip, and I open my mouth to greedily swallow the freezing water. The liquid soothes my painfully dry throat, and I drink the entire glass before Dean finally pulls the cup away to refill it.

"You need to drink another glass immediately, Beau, because your lips are incredibly dry and your skin is practically burning the air around us. You are severely dehydrated, and your pulse is hammering against your neck."

I drink the second glass of water just as quickly as the first, and a small drop escapes my mouth to trail down my chin. Seth immediately steps forward and uses his thumb to wipe the water away from my jaw, and the rough texture of his skin against my face sends a sudden jolt of electricity straight to my stomach. I carefully pull my head back to break the physical contact, and Seth drops his hand to his side, though he does not look offended by my rejection.

"We need to get him under the shower spray right now," Seth states with deep urgency, and he grips my right bicep with his large, heavily tattooed hand. Rhett mirrors his exact movement and takes hold of my left arm, and they easily lift me off the closed toilet lid together. I lean heavily against their combined strength, and I hate the fact that I am entirely reliant on rival syndicate bosses to remain standing.

I manage to kick off my expensive leather shoes, and I awkwardly reach down to unbuckle my belt, but my trembling fingers cannot manipulate the metal clasp. Rhett notices my struggle instantly, and he smoothly brushes my hands away to unfasten the leather belt himself. He unzips my trousers and pushes the heavy fabric down my legs, and I step out of the pants while wearing only my dark boxer briefs. The sheer vulnerability of standing almost entirely naked in front of three dominant Alphas sends a powerful ache directly to my lower abdomen, and I stubbornly force my jaw to remain clenched so I do not let out a submissive sound.

Rhett guides me into the large glass enclosure, and he reaches past me to turn the silver shower knob to the coldest setting. The freezing water immediately hits my overheated skin, and the sudden shock of the temperature makes me gasp loudly. I lean my hands against the wet tile wall to support my unstable weight, and I bow my head to let the heavy spray wash over my neck and my shoulders. The water successfully lowers my external temperature, but the intense cramping in my stomach continues to twist painfully as the suppressants fight an active war against my natural slick production.

Seth leans against the open glass door of the shower, and he completely ignores the fact that the cold water is splashing onto his dark t-shirt and soaking his jeans. "Keep your head under the spray, Beau, and focus on taking very slow breaths so your heart rate can finally stabilize. You are entirely safe in this house, and nobody is going to attack you while you are recovering."

I follow his instruction and step directly under the showerhead, and I close my eyes while the water rushes over my dark hair and flows down my back. I strongly dislike feeling this incredibly weak and exposed, yet a deeply buried part of my biology actually feels very secure under their intense supervision. They are not treating me with disgust or anger, and they are actively working together to care for me without demanding any immediate answers to their previous questions. The contrast between their ruthless public reputations and their current gentle behavior is extremely confusing to my mind.

While I remain under the freezing water, I hear the rustling sound of thick fabric moving outside the glass enclosure. I open my eyes and wipe the water from my face, and I look through the clear shower door to see Dean carefully picking up my discarded suit jacket and my trousers from the wet marble floor. He folds the trousers neatly over his arm to prevent them from wrinkling further, and then he picks up the charcoal jacket to do the exact same thing, but a small plastic object falls out of the inner pocket and hits the hard tile floor with a sharp, hollow sound.

The small amber pill bottle rolls rapidly across the bathroom tiles and stops directly against Dean's leather shoe. The entire room becomes completely silent except for the continuous sound of the running shower water, and my heart completely stops beating inside my chest. I know the bottle is entirely empty because I swallowed the last four pills while sitting on the bedroom floor, but the customized medical label from Dr. Evans is still firmly attached to the plastic side.

Dean slowly bends down and picks up the empty container, and he reads the printed text on the label while pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. He rotates the bottle in his fingers, and his facial expression shifts from calm observation to intense, calculated understanding. He looks up from the plastic container, and his sharp green eyes meet mine directly through the wet glass door.

"You told us you inhaled a synthetic hormone disruptor during a street fight, Beau," Dean says in a dangerously quiet voice that carries perfectly over the sound of the running water, "so why exactly does your personal doctor prescribe you the highest legally banned dosage of Omega heat suppressants?"