Carys shivers and whines as I pull into the parking spot she doesn’t use under her apartment building. Her eyes halfway open, unfocused and hazy. I twist in the seat so I can cup her face and dry the tracks of tears.
“Carys?” I ask in a whisper.
She shivers again, and then her scent flairs, orchids blanketing the entirety of the car. I swallow down a groan and force myself to stay focused. Clothes. Shower. Different clothes. Food. Then I can worry about just how insane this weekend is going to be.
“Baby girl, I need to grab something from the back. I’ll be right back, okay?”
She doesn’t respond, her glazed stare locked on me without really seeing anything at all. I ease my hand away, and she grabs it, her nails biting into my wrist.
“Stay,” she says. “Lemongrass. Warm.”
“I know, baby girl. I’ll get you warm, okay?” She whines, tears spilling over again as I break her hold on my wrist. With a sigh,I use that Alpha bark I keep tucked away for nasty nights on the ice. “Omega, stay.”
She freezes, her breath catching for several long seconds. I don’t waste a second, pulling my bag from the trunk and grabbing another shirt, tossing it on so I’m not bringing extra attention. Then, with a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that the stains will come out, I grab my hoodie. I don’t have any blankets, so I’m making do. I sling the bag over a shoulder and close the trunk’s hatch.
Carys is shaking again when I open her door and ease her into my arms. It takes me a minute to figure out the best way to cover her bare legs, and all the touching just makes her more sensitized.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
I keep her bleeding hip pressed against me. Carrying a practically naked woman through the halls where I don’t live is going to be memorable enough. Adding her bleeding to that will just make for a shitshow.
It feels wrong, but I dig through her purse until I find her keys. Fuck, all of this feels bad and invasive and like conversations we should have had after Thanksgiving. Keys in hand, I let her purse hang from my forearm then lock the car and head to the elevator, praying it’ll be empty like when I first came here. And, because the universe truly has it out for me today, it’s not. Four people walk toward the garage, their eyes widening as they see me.
I duck into the stairwell instead.
Four flights isn’t terrible all things considered. By the second flight, Carys is fully asleep, her scent no longer pulsing every few minutes. And by the time I enter her empty hallway on the fourth floor, her shaking has subsided, too. I take a deep breath for the first time in what feels like hours. Some of the panic recedes.
I drop both bags just inside the door before kicking it closed. Carys jolts in my arms. The purr is instinctual, rumbling through my chest. I don’t bother with the lock quite yet, crossing to the small bathroom and sitting on the edge of the tub. I test the water and then leave it to fill, slowly stripping Carys out of my shirt. I pull the hand towel from the ring beside the sink, wetting it before using it to clean her hip and her legs and her cunt. She gasps awake even as I try to be as gentle as possible, her scent flaring from her.
“Baby girl?” I ask, tossing the towel into the sink. “You need me, or can I wash your hair first?”
She turns into me, setting her teeth against my shoulder. Her scent surges again, and I groan. My scent explodes around us, answering her call as my dick hardens. She shivers, and then her hands are under my shirt, scratching down my stomach.
“Warm,” she says in that dazed, hoarse voice. “Need.”
She bites me through the shirt, almost hard enough to break the skin, and I hiss in a breath. Her mewl echoes in the room as she rubs against me, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.
“Need,” she says again. Her shivering breaks up the words. “Lemong-g-grass.”
Toweled off will have to be good enough for right now.
“Need me. Okay, Omega, you’ve got me.”
I turn the faucet off and drain the tub, carrying her into her room. It’s a complete disaster compared to when I’d first seen it a month ago. My shirts are strewn everywhere, covering nearly every inch of available space. Her bed has softer bedding than before, the delicate white lace comforter replaced with a high-thread count trio of quilts that glide against my arms as I lay her among her pillows. It’s so clearly a fully formed nest, it shocks me a bit.
If I’d seen the state of her room this last week, I would have realized she was in her pre-heat and not simply touch-sensitive.
She whines as I pull away from her, her nails scratching hard enough to pull blood.
“Hey, baby girl, it’s okay,” I say, my voice roughening as another wave of her orchid perfume rushes from her.
She shakes her head, more tears falling down her cheeks. My stomach clenches, but I don’t slow down my retreat, kicking my jeans and boxers off and tossing my bloodied shirt on the floor. It only takes me a minute, but her eyes are already unfocused and glassy by the time I’m crawling over her on the bed. I wedge my knees between hers, and she gasps, the sound way too excited given everything that’s happened today. Slick already covers her inner thighs. Her scent pulses, more potent than even a moment before, and she grabs my hips, trying to bring me closer.
I swallow a groan, holding on to control by my damn fingertips.
Jesus.Heats really aren’t anything to joke about.
“Warm,” she says. “Knot.”
