But she was mine.
She was ours.
And I'd just complicated everything.
23
Presley
The steam from theshower had long since dissipated, but the humming in my chest remained as I stood in the bathroom, wrapped in an impossibly soft towel. My legs still trembled from the aftermath of my heat, from being knotted and filled and claimed in ways I'd never imagined.
But it was the mark on my neck that held my attention.
Hastings had claimed me.
I swiped my hand across the steamed mirror, clearing a circle in the condensation. The bite mark stared back at me, angry and red and all too real.
My fingers lifted, trembling as they touched the raised skin.
I hissed. It was tender, swollen, and when I pressed down even slightly, a jolt of sensation shot straight through the bond to Hastings. The bond hummed between us, like a living thing and somewhere in this house, Hastings would feel that. He'd know I was touching it.
I could feel him. Not his thoughts, not exactly, but his emotions. And right now, those emotions were a tangled mess of terror and guilt and regret.
Was it regret for claiming me?
Or something else?
My hand dropped from the mark, and I stared at my reflection. My hair was still damp, plastered to my cheeks. My eyes were too bright, my pupils still slightly blown. I looked like someone who'd been thoroughly used.
I looked like an omega who belonged to an alpha or a pack.
Did I now belong to Hastings?
But what about Fritz and Etienne?
Why the hell did I raise my chin and offer my life to him?
My pussy throbbed, a dull ache that reminded me of everything that had happened. The heat had burned through me for days, leaving me raw and wrung out.
I'd begged for them. All of them. And they'd given me everything I'd asked for.
Until Hastings had taken me into that shower and bitten down.
My head pounded, the remnants of the heat haze making everything feel slightly surreal. Like I was watching my life happen to someone else. Like the woman in the mirror with the claiming mark wasn't really me.
My heart did a strange fluttering thing, like it didn't know if it shouldsoar or sink.
I needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn't an alpha. Someone who didn't smell like mine.
I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and dialed Maeve.
She answered on the second ring.
"Presley?" Her voice was sharp, instantly alert. "You sound different."
"Can you come here?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. I slid down the bathroom wall, the cold marble biting into my bare skin through the towel. "I can send the helicopter for you."
“Look at you, Miss Fancy Pants and her helicopter.”
