A soft wave of disappointment flows across the bond before it’s replaced with acceptance and love.
“I’ll make sure we get you to the Haven so you’re safe through it,” he promises. And then he kisses me, this one softer and briefer. “I have to get to work.”
“Love you,” I tell him as he quietly gets out of my bed, his hair still a mess from our knotting last night. It’s the only thing out of place, though, his slacks and shirt pristine, the hickey I’d left on his collarbone tactfully hidden.
His eyes gleam in the early morning light slowly filling my nest. His voice rumbles through me.
“I know, Omega.”
And then he’s gone, disappearing up the stairs and through the front door. I close my eyes and try to luxuriate in the feelof my bed, of the scent of him still fresh around me. I fall back asleep.
At some point, I wake up, my stomach twisting with hunger, reminding me I haven’t eaten since dinner, and Marcus fucked me to within an inch of my life last night. Twice.
My eyes ache from the sunlight now drenching my room. My muscles ache as I slowly sit up, but I ignore it.
One more day until I meet Dr. Faulks. One more day until I find out if the OBS is going into remission and I’ll finally be free of it. Anticipation settles in my chest. One more day. I can get through one more day of not telling them about it.
I grab my testing kit and medication bag from the bathroom and take it upstairs with me. I need to take my daily test, but food is more important right now. My stomach twists again, and a wave of need rushes through my body, all the way to my toes. I groan with the sudden force of it as recognition hits me. Marcus was right. It is my heat that he felt, that he smelled in my scent.
I set my phone on the counter and then my kit, pulling out a new strip and nicking my thumb in the practiced motion I’ve used for the last two years. Once it’s running the test, I turn toward the pantry to grab one of the granola bars. Easy and mess free. Another wave of need washes through me, and I groan. I need a knot. I need to be pushed over the counter and held there while my Alpha has his way with me.
The aching in my eyes gets worse as my vision blurs out and doesn’t immediately come back. I count the seconds until I can see again. Thirty-seven.
Ohshit.
I stumble back to the peninsula, the food forgotten, and grab my morning set of pills, quickly taking them dry. Had I remembered to take my night pills yesterday? I’m sure I did. I’m always careful to never miss a single dose. I haven’t had a flaresince the Councilmember handed me my match paperwork. I’ve been… I’ve been stable. Or at least, stable enough.
Dr. Wales’s voice cuts through me, so strong it’s like she’s here with me and not talking over the phone last week when she called with my last round of bloodwork from her office.
Your heat could still trigger a flare. You still need to have your emergency plans in place.
I grab the emergency booster pill, my hands shaking. Fuck, I cannot have a flare right now. Not when I’m here alone, when they don’t know I’m sick, when my heat is setting in. As if summoned by the thought, another wave of need courses through me, even stronger than the ones before. It pulls me all the way under for a long moment.
When I finally resurface and can remember where I am, my head feels like it’s been split open, and I can’t feel most of my legs. My knees give out. There’s an awful crack, and the pain in my head doubles.
And then there’s nothing at all.
Thirty-Six
CHARLOTTE
“How is everything going?” Kirsten asks as I run the scalp cleanser through the roots of my hair, trying to get the worst of the oils out before they can make my skin itch.
My cheeks flush, and she giggles.
“That good, huh?” She adjusts her low ponytail, slicking back the strawberry blonde strands until they lay flat against her head. “I mean, I suspected, but always nice to have it confirmed.”
“You suspected?” I ask dryly.
She nods. “Marcus hasn’t left a hickey on you in the two years you’ve been dating.”
Her eyebrow rises as she focuses on me, not even looking in the mirror as she twists her hair into the claw clip. It takes all my self-control to not put my palm over the dark bruise Cole left on my throat last night. I’d covered it before leaving for the gym, but the makeup’s obviously worn off throughout the workouts.
“Raelynn was curious about meeting him,” she says when I don’t offer more of a response. “We only have another week before the all day rehearsals start. She thought maybe we could go out for lunch before we’re all too tired most days.”
I swallow down the irrational urge to keep Cole hidden away, even from my own friends, and give a smile.
“Sure.” And then, to distract her, I ask, “Want to grab a coffee and bagel?”
