Hate, need, want… all of it has me wrapped up so tight there’s no escape.
Chapter 12
June
The next morning, my breasts are swollen.
I want to slip my hand between my legs, rub and rub until my back arches and my body shatters. More than that, I ache for a knot to stretch my pussy. Need it. Want it. Crave it.
I run my tongue along the inside of my mouth, and I taste my scent. Blueberry pie with a hint of brown sugar. It’s strong. Nearly overwhelmingly sweet.
My heat isn’t just coming; it’s here.
I stretch out my shower for nearly an hour, until the water turns cold, but I linger. I take thirty minutes to pick out an outfit, buying even more time.
Finally dressed, I drag myself down the stairs and hesitate in front of a closed door where male voices are barely audible from within.
I hold my breath for a second, release it, and knock firmly.
Yesterday morning, Archer dragged me up from the grass in the garden, pulled me into the library, fucked me against a bookcase, and walked away, leaving me aching and unfulfilled.
I haven’t seen any of my scent matches since then, and I don’t want to. They’re determined to hate me, and I’m determined to hate them right back. But saying nothing about my heat startingis not wise. An omega in heat in a house full of alphas will lead to an explosion that none of us would want.
Biting my lip, I knock again, hoping they weren’t waiting for me to leave by not answering my first knock.
The silence stretches out for two full seconds.
“Come in,” Callum calls out.
I twist the doorknob, push the door open, and walk inside.
Torin is on his back on a leather couch, flipping through a magazine. Archer is standing at the window, hands in his pockets, staring out. He doesn’t turn as I walk into the room.
Callum has his phone in his hand, one eyebrow raised, his expression as cold and disinterested as any I’ve ever seen.
I stiffen my spine as I meet his gaze, projecting the same disinterest as I say, “My heat is starting.”
They must have known it already. They’ve been avoiding me more than usual.
Callum taps on his phone's keypad. "Veronica will take you to a free heat clinic,” he says, bored.
For a second, I think I’m hearing things. The cold indifference I wrapped around myself starts to thaw. “What?”
Callum glances up at me from his phone. “We have stuff to do. Veronica will go with you, and Steven will drive. You’ll stay at the free heat clinic for the next four days, and she’ll collect you and bring you back.”
I never envisioned my scent matches would be so cold.
They are myalphas. They are supposed tohelpme through my heat, not shove me out of the door the second I need them.
I lick my lips. “But I’ve never been to a heat clinic be?—”
“That’s what the staff is there for. They’ll explain whatever needs to be explained.” Callum lowers his phone and looks at me when I don’t move, annoyance stamped across his face. “Was there anything else?”
“I wish I’d never met you,” I whisper.
“The feeling is mutual,” he says, his attention dropping back to the text message that he seems to regard as a better use of his time than talking to me for five minutes.
Tears prick my eyes, and I blink, willing them away.
