Felix wasn't lying about having clothes that fit. I'd half-expected to be drowning in oversized alpha clothes.
Which makes me wonder: do they have omega guests often? Cousins? A short alpha or beta friend?Maybe an ex?It would be weird to keep an ex's clothes, but what do I know? Not my business either way.
The clothes are clean and warm when I pull them on. And the bed looks… comfy. I turn back the covers and slide in, the sheets cool against skin still warm from the shower.
I look at the windows, where there's nothing but white.
Who knows, maybe it'll clear by tomorrow…
And if it doesn’t, well… maybe it'll give me time to figure out what December twenty-third means to them, why they won't play on that date. This is an opportunity to assess. Observe. Find ways to get them back on the ice where they belong.
The festival will go on. I'll make sure of it.
My eyes are getting heavy, the day catching up all at once. The early rise, the travel, the storm…
Felix…with his charming smile.
For a second, I picture a soft knock at the door. Him asking if I need anything. Sitting on the edge of the mattress while we talk…
His voice low. His face close.
I huff out a short laugh into the dark.
“Nope,” I tell myself. “Let's not even think about it.”
That would complicate things. Definitely. He's been so sweet, but I shouldn't read into it.
Even if a part of me wouldn't mind a little company right now...
Which is exactly why I need to stay ahead of this.
I reach blindly toward the nightstand, fingers finding the small pill case of DuoBlocks by touch. The plastic clicks when I open it. One pill presses into my palm and swallow it dry.
The last thing I need is for this to wear off and turn this situation into an accidental mating frenzy. I don't want tofind out whether their scent appeals to me, or mine to them, especially when I'm tired and scared and far too likely to seek comfort…
Boundaries are non-negotiable.
I set the case back, pull the duvet up to my chin, and curl on my side, facing away from the window.
Chapter nine
Naomi
The hiss of the radiator is the first thing I hear.
The second is the wind pressing against the glass.
I don’t have to open my eyes to know we’re still buried.
My phone on the nightstand confirms it: 7:03 a.m., no signal. A whole stack of missed responsibilities waiting somewhere on the other side of this storm.
I slide out of bed, feeling warm floorboards under my feet. I smooth a hand over the gray sweatshirt and black leggings, drag my fingers through my hair, and check my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Good enough.
The hallway is quiet when I step out, aside from faint plumbing noises. As I get closer to the open living area, something else joins the list of sounds.
Sizzle.
