I dig through my purse again, pushing past my wallet, my keys, a handful of receipts. Looking for the orange prescription bottle I always keep with me.
It’s not there.
I dump the whole bag out on the bed. Lip balm. A pen. My emergency granola bar. Hand sanitizer. A tampon. A hair tie.
No suppressants.
My hands are shaking as I paw through the scattered contents, checking every pocket, every zippered compartment. It has to be here. It has to be. I never go anywhere without?—
The car.
The passenger seat. The water bottle. I left them on the passenger seat when I went into the meeting because my hands were shaking and I needed to take an extra dose and I meant to put them back in my bag but I was running late and I just left them there.
I left them in the car.
The car that’s buried in a snowbank somewhere on Ridge Road. Miles away. Completely unreachable.
“No.” The word comes out strangled. “No, no, no.”
I’m on my knees on the bed, surrounded by the contents of my purse, and I can feel the panic rising in my chest like a wave. My suppressants are gone. I’m stuck in a cabin with three alphas and my suppressants aregoneand my body is already responding to them and I can’t—I can’t?—
“Tessa?”
Ben’s voice. I look up and he’s standing in the doorway, brow furrowed, concern written all over his face.
“What’s wrong?”
I open my mouth to saynothing, I’m fine, the same lie I’ve told a thousand times. But the words won’t come. Because I’m not fine. I’m the opposite of fine. I’m kneeling on his bed in his clothes surrounded by the scattered contents of my life and I’m about to fall apart.
“Tessa.” He’s in the room now, crouching in front of me. His scent hits me full force and I have to close my eyes against the wave of want that crashes through me. Heat flares between my thighs. My hands curl into fists in the bedspread. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
“My suppressants.” It comes out like a confession. Like a crime. “I left them in the car.”
He goes still. “Left them...”
“On the passenger seat. I took an extra dose before my meeting and I meant to put them back in my bag but I forgot and now they’re in the car and the car is—” My voice cracks. “The car is buried.”
Footsteps in the hallway. Milo appears in the doorway, Elijah right behind him.
“Everything okay?” Milo’s smile fades when he sees my face. “What happened?”
“Her suppressants,” Ben says, voice low. “They’re in her car.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
I watch the understanding dawn on their faces. Three alphas, processing what this means. An omega going off suppressants. Trapped together in a cabin. For days.
We all saw the storm this morning. We all know what’s out there.
“Ben.” My voice is barely a whisper. “Is there any way?—”
“Tessa.” His voice is gentle, but firm. “You saw it. I can’t even see my truck, and it’s ten feet from the door. I’d never find the car. I’d get turned around in thirty seconds and freeze to death before I made it back.”
I know he’s right. I watched them walk through this storm last night, roped together so they wouldn’t lose each other. And it’s worse now. So much worse.
“It’s okay.” I force my voice to steady. “It’s fine. I can—heats usually take a few days to hit after stopping suppressants. Three days, maybe. The storm will clear by then and I can just?—”
Heat floods through me without warning. A wave of it, rolling up from my core, and between my legs I feel myself go slick.
