But as I shake the pills into my palm, something stops me cold.
I don't need them.
Oh shit!
My hand flies to my neck, fingers finding the tender spot where Logan's teeth broke skin last night. The bite mark throbs with a gentle pulse that seems to sync with my heartbeat, and I can feel something different in my body. Something settled. Regulated.
Bonded.
"Fuck," I whisper to my reflection, which looks like someone who just realized she accidentally signed a contract in permanent ink. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
My vanilla bourbon scent, usually kept in careful check by pharmaceuticals and sheer force of will, is now naturally balanced. Stable. The way it's supposed to be when an omega is properly claimed by an alpha who actually knows what he's doing.
Which Logan apparently does. Because of course he does. Because the universe has a sick sense of humor and probably keeps a running tally of how many ways it can complicate my life in a single week.
I drop the pills back into the bottle with shaking hands. But tomorrow morning, I'll probably reach for them anyway. It's like how you still reach for your phone even when the battery's dead. Muscle memory. Safety blanket. The pharmaceutical proof that I'm in control of my own body, even when I'm clearly not.
The small clicking sound they make feels like the closing of a door I hadn't meant to open. Independence, thy name was suppressants, and now I don't need them because Logan Pierce marked me like I'm his personal property.
The bite mark stares back at me in the mirror, a perfect crescent of broken skin that screams "someone's alpha has been here" to anyone with functioning eyes or a nose. It's not huge, but it might as well be a neon sign advertising exactly what happened in the back seat of that jeep.
I grab the first scarf I can find, a silk thing in deep burgundy that Emma insisted I pack "for versatility." Now, it's for hiding the evidence of questionable life choices involving the former love of my life. Or is he still the love of my life?
The black wrap dress still hangs perfectly, still makes me look like I stepped out of a magazine instead of a domestic disaster zone. But now it feels like costume armor for a role Inever auditioned for. The role of Logan Pierce's claimed omega, apparently.
My reflection looks put-together on the surface, but my eyes give me away. Wide with panic and something that might be excitement if I were the type of person who made good decisions. Which, clearly, I am not.
I grab my coat, purse and phone, moving like I'm fleeing a crime scene. Which, in a way, I suppose I am. The crime scene being my common sense, which was apparently murdered sometime between Logan climbing that tree and him sinking his teeth into my neck.
The stairs creak under my feet like they're trying to announce my escape attempt to the entire household. Every sound feels amplified, every footstep a potential betrayal. If Logan is awake, if he comes downstairs, if he sees me trying to sneak out like some kind of walk-of-shame refugee...
The front door opens without incident, cold mountain air hitting my face like a slap of reality. I pull out my phone and call the one taxi service Pine Hollow has managed to maintain despite its ongoing love affair with quaint small-town charm.
"Pine Hollow Taxi, this is Danny."
I don't give a fuck who it is! I need to get out of here now.
"Hi, I need a pickup at 1247 Maple Street. As soon as possible. Like, immediately."
"Savannah? You sound a little..."
Like I need you to pick me up now!
"I'm fine. How long?"
"Five minutes. You sure you're..."
Yes!
"I'm outside waiting."
That should speed him up a bit. In fact, I'm not waiting outside. I'm going to walk up the path so I can see him coming up the road. The scarf feels like it's choking me, but removingit isn't an option. Not when the alternative is explaining to the entire town why I'm sporting a fresh claiming bite from their local hero firefighter.
The taxi appears at the top of the street in less than five minutes. I nearly jump into it because I'm so panicked.
"Damn, Savannah. You have some energy today."
"Drive!" I spin my head around, thinking that I've been caught at some crime scene.
