He was in for a world of hurt. When Belle looked this innocent heads rolled. Or wished they’d rolled. His eyes automatically scanned her hands, searching for the air horn she usually carried.
Rick glared at him before nodding. He remained standing, all of his attention centered on Ben and Belle. His shoulders were tensed as if…
Fuck. He thinks I’m going to hurt Belle. What the hell was going on?
“Ben?” Seemingly delicate fingers snapped in front of his face, but Ben knew better. Those fingers could grow into sharp claws in an instant. “Look at me, Benny.”
Ben turned his attention to his Luna. Belinda “Belle” Lowell was arguably the most dangerous member of the Pack, and she wasn’t even Wolf. She was a Puma, and a former member of the Halle Pride. She limped toward him, the tap-tap-tap of her cane loud in the otherwise silent room. “You’ve been a very naughty boy, Benny.”
Ben saw movement behind the Luna. Rick was handing everyone but him earplugs.
Oh, crap.
Belle patted his cheek, her claws out enough that he could feel the sharp tips. “Someone I care about is very sick, and you did this to him.”
He felt compelled to answer. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt the blame for someone else’s alcoholism. “He’s the only one who can stop drinking, Belle. I can’t force him to.”
Everyone in the room froze. From the stunned, even astonished looks on everyone’s faces, apparently they didn’t know Dave was an alcoholic.
“WHAT?” Rick roared. Ben’s eyes crossed. Damn, his Alpha was loud. “Dave is not a drunk!”
Denial. He’d seen it before in loved ones, but he knew better. “Rick, he’s hung over a lot.”
Belle’s eyes were narrowed. Fury rode her features. “Have you smelled alcohol on his breath?”
“No.” Because he never allowed himself to get close enough. If he did he was afraid he’d shake the man. God, how could Dave do that to himself? To Ben? It was better to just stay away.
“When was the last time you saw Dave with an alcoholic drink?” He opened his mouth to respond, but Belle stopped him. “And I mean you were one hundred percent, no way to confuse Coke for rum and Coke, positive.”
He realized he didn’t know for certain, other than the night of the Alpha pair’s mating celebration over a year ago. But as she’d said, it was so easy to hide alcohol in something much more innocuous looking. Hell, his father had been a master, a fucking virtuoso at hiding his drinking. “I don’t know.”
“Belle, hold on. Maybe it would help if I explained a few things to him.” Finally, the one person in the room he’d be able to relate to. Dr. Howard took a step forward, placing a hand on Belle’s shoulder. “If it comes from me he might be able to understand it a little bit better, especially if he’s been laboring under the delusion that Dave’s an alcoholic.”
Ben gaped at the doctor. He had the sinking feeling that the foundation of his world was about to be rocked to its core. “What’s going on?”
“David Maldonado does not suffer from alcoholism. In fact, his condition is exacerbated by the consumption of alcoholic beverages.”
Everything within Ben froze in horror. Condition.
Condition?
“What’s wrong with my mate?”
Belle laughed, the sound harsh. “Oh, so now he’s your mate.”
He closed his eyes. He deserved that. If Dave’s headaches were caused by something other than what he’d thought…if all the different ways he’d shoved the man away had actually made things worse, the way Rick had implied…he deserved a lot more than the Luna’s scorn. “Doc?”
“Do you know what a migraine is?”
“A migraine?” Ben frowned. Is that all that was wrong with Dave? “It’s a bad headache.”
The doctor sighed. “Yeah. That’s what most people think and, in typical cases, they’d be right.” He settled on the edge of Rick’s desk, his hands on either side of his hips. His blond hair gleamed in the light streaming in from the window behind him, giving him a halo effect. “Migraines are a lot more common in women than in men, and people who don’t suffer from them think they’re just headaches. Sometimes they even misdiagnose the problem and think they’re sinus headaches when they’re actually migraines. Those are the ones that are the most common. What Dave suffers from goes a lot deeper than that.”
Ben gestured toward the empty chair in front of Rick’s desk, relieved when his Alpha nodded his consent. It was either sit on the chair or collapse on the floor. “I’ve felt what Dave feels, and they’re more than ‘just’ headaches.”
“David suffers from unusually bad migraines, the kind you hear about and wonder how someone can live through them. Left untreated they can lead to much more serious problems.”
Ben felt the blood drain from his face. He’d felt the migraines, known the pain Dave was in. “You said I made them worse.”
Jamie nodded. “Yeah. Stress is one of Dave’s triggers.”
Triggers. Like Ben had shot him. “What other things trigger Dave’s migraines?”
“Sodium nitrates seem to be one of the main culprits. Hot dogs, lunchmeat, red wine—they all contain sodium nitrates. Dave can’t eat them at all or he runs the risk of getting sick.”
Ben nodded. He’d see to it that Dave never touched another fucking hot dog as long as he lived. “What else?”
“We’re not sure. Even eliminating most of the sodium nitrates from his diet doesn’t seem to have lessened the severity of the migraines. Common triggers can be controllable things, like reducing stress levels, avoiding certain foods like alcohol and aspartame. Or they can be uncontrollable, like weather changes. With the severity of Dave’s migraines the most we can hope for is to reduce their frequency and the intensity with which they strike. All I know for certain is he’s got to be under more stress than he’s letting on.”
Ben felt that right down to his soul. “Which means it’s my fault he’s in the hospital right now.” He’d done more than stress the Beta out. He’d essentially pointed the gun at Dave’s head and pulled that particular trigger.
“Damn straight,” Rick growled.
Ben accepted that. He closed his eyes, the pain of what he’d forced his mate to suffer washing through him. “This has been going on since he was fifteen?” When the doctor nodded again Ben damn near moaned like a wounded animal. “When can I see him?” He had a lot of making up to do. It would serve him right if Dave wanted nothing more to do with him. He’d treated the man like shit for all the wrong reasons, when he should have been trying to help him through his suffering.
Damn it. Once again the memory of his father had tainted something that was supposed to be good. How could he have been so stupid?
“Dave doesn’t want you at the hospital, and I agree with him.” Ben accepted the doctor’s words. He’d have to wait until Dave returned to begin making amends. “You could inadvertently add to the stress. Right now I’ve got him on tranquilizers, pain relievers and anti-nausea medication, and we’re monitoring him due to the increased risk of stroke. He’s been rehydrated intravenously.”
Thank God he was sitting down, because he was shaking so badly there was no way his legs could have held him. “What do you mean, stroke?” His voice was shaking. Holy hell, this was a lot more serious than Rick and Belle had let on.
“Dave’s official diagnosis is status migrainosus. The blood vessels in his brain are dilated, which increases the risk of stroke.”
He put his head between his knees. In about two seconds he’d be joining his mate in the hospital.