I didn’t laugh. “It’s part of my deal.”
There was a long, cold silence on the other end.
"You know I can't come to London," Maeve said finally, her voice tight. "It gives me anxiety."
"Please."
"What's so important that you need me right now? Can't you just tell me over the phone?"
"I've just finished my heat."
"Oh my God." Her voice shifted, went softer. "Are you okay? Did they—are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. Better than fine. They were..." I stopped, not sure how to explain it. How to put into words the way they'd taken care of me, the way they'd made me feel safe even when I was out of my mind with need. "They were perfect, Maeve."
"Then what's wrong?"
"I’ve been claimed." I didn’t even bother to sugar coat it.
Another silence, this one longer than the first.
"Who?" Maeve's voice had gone flat, dangerous. "What the hell? Who marked you? All of them?"
"Just Hastings." My fingers found the mark again, tracing the edges. "And now he's panicking. I can feel it through the bond. It's like he regrets it, and I have no clue what to do." My voice cracked. "Maeve, I'm scared. Does it always feel like this? Like your soul is being pulled in four different directions? Should I have let them all claim me?"
"I wouldn't know, Pres. I’ve never had a pack. You should have listened to me and not presented your neck at all, but–" Her voice had gone hard again, the usual Irish lilt replaced by something flat and protective. "It’s done now. But you know how I feel about packs. About alphas. They're selfish. Even the good ones. He saw something he wanted and he took it.”
"Maybe they really want me."
"He wants a baby. And being claimed in your heat and then being knotted is the best way to get an omega pregnant, Presley. Alphas don’t care who gets hurt as long as they get what they want."
My eyes shut tight as I breathed in hard. "I know that."
"Do you?" She exhaled, and I heard the rustle of movement on her end. "Listen, come here. Get on the helicopter and visit me for a few hours. I'll make you a sandwich. I suppose you eat fancy stuff now, but I can still manage a tuna sandwich or beans on toast if that’swhat you want."
My chest tightened. "You'd do that?"
"Of course I would. You're my best friend. You sound like you need someone who isn't an alpha telling you what to feel and what to eat."
"I do."
"Then come. Call me back once you know when."
"Okay." I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just get here safely."
She hung up, and I sat there on the cold bathroom floor, the phone still pressed to my ear, feeling more alone than I had in days.
The bond pulled at me, an insistent tug toward Hastings. He was close. Maybe in his room. Maybe lying awake feeling the same guilt in his veins that poured through the connection like fizzy wine.
I wanted to go to him. To tell him it was okay, that I'd wanted the claim, that I didn't regret it. But I should.
I also wanted to run. To get on that helicopter and fly back to North Yorkshire and hide in my caravan until I could make sense of what I was feeling.
The breakfast room was too quiet when I walked in.
All three of them were there, seated around the table like they'd been waiting. Their heads snapped up the momentI appeared in the doorway, and the weight of their stares made my steps falter.
