I drop my head into my arms and weep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CARYS
Rhett’s silent as I slowly brush out my hair, letting the curls relax into softer waves, and then unplug the curling iron. Nerves flash under my sternum at his unwavering gaze from where he stands in the doorway, a hand on the top of the threshold. His grip makes the veins in his arm stand out, and his stomach muscles ripple with each small adjustment of his body. His skin is littered with small bites, a few of them in the perfect shape of my teeth. Despite having just survived a five day sex fest that has left me incredibly sore in places I didn’t know could be, I perfume. The orchid scent is muted, that telltale edge of my heat gone entirely.
“Really, baby girl?” he asks.
I flush, so dark it extends onto my neck and chest. His chuckle is equal parts disbelieving and exultant as he closes the few feet between us, pulling my back into his chest. I lean back against him, letting him take most of my weight. Even after the shower, my legs aren’t all that sure how to support my body anymore. He kisses the crook of my shoulder before locking eyes with me in the mirror, his own lemongrass scent curling around us both.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs. Then, quieter, more cautious, he asks, “You feeling okay?”
I blush again, my chest flushing dark red. My scent changes, edged with my embarrassment. “If by okay, you mean out of the heat haze, yes.”
He tightens his hold around my waist before trailing his hand over my hip, tracing the bite mark through my skirt and tights. His fingers don’t miss a single indentation of the new mark, like he’s traced it more than once since it happened Friday.
Nerves tighten around my ribs, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
His voice is even more gentle. “And about everything else?”
“As good as it all could be, I guess.” I lean forward, and he loosens his hold without dropping his arms. I put on a bit of mascara and lip gloss to keep myself distracted. There’s a faint thread of melancholy in the center of my chest that isn’t my own that’s been there since I woke up a few hours ago entirely out of my heat.
“You’re sure?” He runs his lips across my shoulder and up my neck. “You don’t need to sugarcoat it for my sake, baby girl. I can handle your truth.”
“Does everybody know?”
“About us? Yes. Only Ashton knows about this.” He traces the marks again.
I breathe carefully through my nose. I roll my lips together, trying to sort through everything roiling just under the surface. There’s worry and fear and embarrassment and unease. So many emotions, all nearly too much to handle. The new tether to Paxton doesn’t make the process any easier, either.
“I’m scared,” I admit, my voice trembling. He nods and kisses just under my ear. His touch makes it easier to ask the question haunting me, filling me with dread. “Are you upset with me?”
I can survive Dad finding out about Rhett and me in what is possibly the worst way. Probably. But there’s no way I can do it if Rhett’s angry with me. And everything else? Definitely not.
“Absolutely not,” he says vehemently, his eyes locking with mine in the mirror. “I’m not even angry with him. It’s not something I would ever hold against either of you. Ruts are… well, you know.”
Yes, I do. I’d known for a long time in theory, in the abstract, just how powerful an Alpha’s rut could be. How completely mindless they can become if an Omega’s heat triggers it to take over. Now I have a much more visceral experience of what happens when all of the stars align for a complete catastrophe.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
I feel so incredibly young and naïve admitting that to him. It’s been weeks since I felt so inexperienced, unsure what to do, around Rhett. Not even the night I gave him my virginity did I feel so out of my depth. His hand tightens on my hip before twisting a piece of my hair around his finger.
“None of us do,” he whispers against my skin. He presses another line of kisses down my throat. I can’t help but tilt my head, giving him more room, my scent joining his and filling my tiny bathroom. My knees wobble, and he takes all of my weight. His voice is softer than before. “None of this comes with a rulebook. Whatever you decide you want to do, I’m here with you, all right?”
Trying to figure out what I want to do about it all is overwhelming. I don’t know the best way forward, the way that leaves all four of us in the best ending position with each other.
“He’s my scent match.”
It feels like a relief to say the words. That bit of cypress I’d smelled on Halloween, that had made my stomach clench, had been him. No wonder I’d been a mess on that dance flooreven before the bodies crowded in around me. Rhett doesn’t say anything at all, letting me process it all without pressure.
“Will I get touch-sensitive with him, too?”
“I don’t know, baby girl. That last week you weren’t touch-sensitive with me. It was your pre-heat. The weeks before that?” He shrugs. “Maybe. It’s not something we’ll know for sure until the end of this week at the earliest.”
I lace my hand with his, running my thumb over the back of his hand and wrist. His chest vibrates with a low purr. The last of my nervous tension drips away from me.
“Okay.” I blow out a breath. “Okay. I think I want to talk to Billie first if I can. Just to… I don’t know. Have the weirdest ‘Hey Girlie’ moment in the universe, I guess.”
