Rogue lets out a gruff bark of amusement.
ChapterEleven
Harper
The scent wakes me first. It’s mouthwatering. Woodsmoke and leather, warm and comforting. It wraps around me like a blanket.
Whose scentisthat?
I blink my eyes open and take in my surroundings. Holy shit. I jack-knife into a sitting position and yelp as the Director looks up from his desk. Panicking, I throw myself off the sofa. My limbs aren’t working properly, though, and I stagger a few steps before my legs collapse altogether and I end up in an ungainly heap on the Director’s carpet.
Oh gods. I’m so fucking dead.
I can’t hear anything over my panic, and I flinch back with a whine when firm hands grab hold of my arm. The Director hauls me upright, his grip strong but not bruising as he lifts me easily and braces me until I’m able to stand alone. He meets my eyes steadily, no hint of his feelings creeping through. Ice cold.
“My apologies, Harper,” he says politely. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I…” I’m floundering. I mean, what do I say? What am I supposed to be doing? I should be kneeling, but he’s just pulled me up. Confused, I settle for dropping my head and tilting it slightly to the side to show off my throat.
“I’m sorry, alpha,” I whisper. I’m not entirely sure what I’m apologizing for, but it seems like a safe bet.
The Director sighs and touches my arm again. I stiffen as he guides me to a chair in the corner of the room and pushes my shoulder gently in a silent demand for me to take a seat.
Handing me a glass of water, he perches at the end of the desk and stares at me while I try not to chug the whole amount in one. I can’t remember the last time I had a drink. My mouth feels like I’ve been chewing on chalk.
I’m too scared to say anything else, so I sit there in silence, staring at the carpet. The Director sighs.
“I know this won’t make any sense to you now,” he starts. His voice sounds slightly warmer, and I straighten slightly, cocking my head so he knows I’m listening.
“But I hope that in time I’ll be able to explain everything. For now, I have pulled you from the Phoenix project. I apologize for the experience you had.”
If I was standing, I’m pretty sure I would have collapsed with the rush of relief that comes over me. There’s a hint of shock there too. Why is the Director apologizing to me? I mean, he fucking should apologize, but still.
I chance a glance up, and he reads the expression on my face.
“You can speak,” he offers. I lick my lips.
“I…,” my voice is rusty, my lip splitting slightly. “I can go back to my room?”
I need to see Ava. She must be worried sick. I doubt anyone told her anything, so as far as she knows, I just disappeared from the compound after the fight in the food hall with Jason. I hope she’s alright.
The Director taps a finger on the desk. “Ah, no. You won’t be going back to your room.”
My whole body locks up in sheer terror as my perfume explodes out of me, metallic and sharp with anxiety. The Director inhales sharply and coughs.
“Good god,” he chokes out. “Your scent.”
I ignore his words and stare at him intently, waiting for more information.
“Yes, so,” he moves abruptly away from me, distancing himself from the spice rolling from my skin in waves, and opens a window, staying close to the fresh air.
“Jason will not give up on the project so easily, I’m afraid. Nor will other members of the board. Therefore, I think it would be safest if you were placed with a pack as quickly as possible.”
I just stare at him blankly. A pack?
Heats,my mind whispers.Children.
That’s a firm ‘fuck no’ from me.
