At the mention of my scent match’s name, I tense, and my hands grip the steering wheel tightly.
Blair.
Omega.
Feeding the colonies is one of the few things that keep me sane.
I’m doing something productive instead of just being consumed with thoughts of my scent match.
It physically aches to not be with her.
The mysterious flu symptoms affect all three of us, and besides making me physically miserable, they also make me feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind.
My inner Alpha has destroyed his cage, and primal anguish pump through my bloodstream.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Mari says, patting my arm. “She’ll come back. She has to. She loves you.”
I grit my teeth.
Lovedoesn’t begin to describe the way I feel for Blair.
And I highly fucking doubt shelovesme.
“I’m not so sure about that, Mari,” I mutter.
But the older woman doesn’t take the hint. “Of course she does! She wouldn’t be so terrified if she didn’t. That girl has a huge heart filled with love but isn’t sure how to give it away yet. She’ll come around.”
I want to believe Mari. She’s witty with a wicked sense of humor and a strong opinion on everyone she knows.
That doesn’t mean her assessment of Blair is accurate, though.
“What makes you so sure of that?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
Mari’s confidence gives me something akin to hope, and I don’t want it.
Blair has rejected us. She’s rejectedme.
Any shred of hope will only make me go insane.
“That’s how our girl is. She’s scared of her feelings for you, honey. I have never seen her happier than with you and your packmates.”
I don’t believe Mari, as much as I would like to.
“You’re a good man, being patient with her,” she continues.
I scoff. “I’m a fucking coward. I should go after her,” I admit.
“Nope. It would only push her away. Giving her time to figure it out is exactly what she needs. She’s like a feral in that way. If you try to grab her she’ll just squirm away.”
“Are you comparing her to a cat?”
“She’s got a feral heart, after everything she’s been through. It takes time and patience, and you’re giving her that.”
Time and patience are eating me alive, though.
“If you say so,” I mutter.
“You have a feral heart, too,” Mari says fondly. “Just a different kind. But two feral cats make the best bonded pairs, honey.”
