Attempting to gain as much confidence as I can, I stare pointedly at the alpha, jutting my chin out. “I do not have a pack. And I’m here looking for someone.”
“Sure.” He draws the word out. He leans forward, steepling his hands as he levels me with the intensity of his gaze. A piece of blond hair falls forward, and it causes another wash of his scent to waft towards me.
I bury myself further into the couch and attempt to discretely cover my nose.
I thought the heat-blockers would help with this. Or do they need more time?
The alpha’s lips curl upward in amusement, but his attention is hyper-focused on my neck. On the mark Tony left.
“Who are you looking for?” The alpha cocks his head with the question.
His intensity has left me uneasy. I’m not sure that I want to answer. My fingers creep towards my stomach on their own. Landing on the overalls and digging into the material.
I made it this far. Ihaveto find my alpha. Tell him I’m pregnant. Get this over with.
My gaze flicks around the room. To the lack of family pictures, the absence of a TV, the obvious rustic lifestyle. Out the window it is completely dark now, but I can hear that it is still raining. The sound is harsh with a muted underbite as it lands. It doesn’texactlysound like rain.
I hope it’s not hailing.
Returning my attention forward, the alpha’s lips flatten into a line, and I realize I haven’t answered his question.
The name Serena gave me washes around my mind before finally slipping off my tongue. The father of my unborn child. The alpha who helped me through my darkest hours. Who worked through my grief with me. Who held me as I cried in his arms. As I begged for his knot. As I pled for forgiveness from my dead mate.
“Charles Bentley.”
It is the wrong thing to say. The alpha’s scent turns acrid, and his anger hits me directly in the face. It is hot, painful, terrifying, and it causes me to cower back further into the couch.
This was a mistake. I should have grabbed the mace. I should have brought Serena.
The alpha jerks out, snatching my forearm, his hold tight and bruising. “What is your name?” he barks at me.
I have very little choice other than to answer, but I would have either way.
“Xenia Rossi.”
The alpha snarls in response, his grip tightening as he drags me up out of the couch. “He doesn’t live here.”
Tears are forming in my eyes now, and I can’t help but to whimper.
The sound causes the alpha to pause, but then he shakes his head. “An omega? They sent a fucking omega?!”
His words don’t make any sense.
“I smell… I smell him here,” I sob softly as he physically drags me towards the front door.
He hesitates, but only for a singular instance before he rips the front door open and shoves me through it. “He’s dead. Don’t come back here or it will end up worse than this.”
And then he is pushing me as far as he can and slamming the door in my face.
I don’t think he exactly means for the force he uses to literally take me off the porch, but I land in mud just off the edge. Water is hitting me from above, except it isn’t rain.
It’s snow.
Snowing in Florida.
That is my last coherent thought before the realization hits me.
He’s dead. Charles is dead. My unborn child’s father isdead.
