I blink awake slowly, wrapped in the softest blanket I’ve ever felt, surrounded by approximately forty-seven pink cushions and one very judgmental body pillow I’m currently snuggling. The room and house are quiet. And the space beside me on the bed is empty.
Carter is gone. And so is my pain.
But I remember him staying, the weight of his arm around my waist, the steady rhythm of his breathing against my neck, the way his scent wrapped around me. I recall the pain fading whenever he touched me and returning like a knife whenever he pulled away.
It was the safest I’ve felt in a long time.
I sit up slowly, testing my body. The ache is barely there, a low simmer deep within me, but it’s manageable now. Nothing like the stabbing agony of last night. Maybe sleep helped. Or maybe the suppressants I didn’t take this morning could have made everything worse.
I stare at my bag across the room, where my pill bottle is tucked into the side pocket. Every morning for seven years,I’ve taken those little white tablets without question. Swallowed them down with water and went about my day, pretending to be something I’m not.
But last night changed things.
Last night, an Alpha’s touch eased pain that nothing else could. My body responded to Carter in ways that Betas simply don’t.
Face it, June. You know what this means.
I force myself to think it through.
If I take the suppressants, I can keep pretending. Keep the walls up, with everyone, including myself, convinced that I’m just a boring Beta with no designation drama. But the pills might be what’s making me sick. The cramping, the fever, the feeling like my insides are trying to claw their way out—what if years of suppressing my Omega have finally caught up with me?
My stomach twists. If I don’t take them, my scent will grow stronger around Alphas. The guys will notice. Questions will start. And I’ll have to face the truth I’ve been running from since I was eighteen years old.
That I’m an Omega who was told she’d never be enough.
My parents meant well. I know they did. When the doctors diagnosed me asdormant—unlikely to ever experience heats or form proper bonds—my mom and dad did what they felt was best for me so I didn’t suffer judgment.
And I believed them because the alternative was admitting that I was broken. Defective. An Omega who couldn’t do the one thing Omegas were supposed to do.
So I took the pills, buried my designation, and built an identity around being unremarkable.
But these three men don’t look at me like I’m unremarkable. They look at me like I’m everything.
And that terrifies me more than any pain ever could.
I let out a long exhale and make a decision. No suppressants today. If the pain comes back around the guys, I’ll know for certain what’s causing it. And if it doesn’t…
Well. I’ll figure that out when I get there.
First priority is keeping some distance. I need space to let my body settle without Alpha influence. Space to think without drowning in their scents and their smiles and the way they make me feel like I’m standing in sunlight after years of shade.
I grab my phone and pull up a new group chat, adding Carter’s and Kai’s numbers from when they gave them to me at the carnival.
June:Just heading into town for a bit. I’m sure you three can behave while I’m gone.
The response is almost immediate.
Carter:You feeling okay this morning?
Kai:She’s ALIVE!Was worried we’d have to send in a search party. Or a rescue kiss.
June:Interesting!
I smirk to myself.
Kai:It’s like a rescue breath but better. More tongue.
Carter: Please ignore him. He hasn’t had coffee yet.
