I stare at the glass in my hand.
My fingers are trembling.
"I'm fine."
The lie is automatic.
Drake pauses, then glances at me again. "You sure?"
I shrug.
"Yeah."
Drake exhales. He doesn't press.
He stuffs the snacks into his arms and turns back toward the hallway.
My omega twist painfully in my chest.
She’s fully awake again now—too awake. The last time I was at Finn's, something in me started to unfurl. It hasn't gone back to sleep.
And it wants.
It wants warmth. It wants comfort. It wants attention, reassurance.
I hate it.
The bitter thought creeps in: they're too busy taking care of their precious scent match to care about me. The same scent match that lied to hurt me.
I flinch, guilt flooding in immediately.
Stop. That's not fair.
Marie didn't choose to go into heat.
Drake steps close enough that the scent of Marie overwhelms the kitchen completely. My stomach heaves.
He leans in automatically, muscle memory guiding him, and presses a quick kiss to my temple.
The contact is brief.
The scent is not.
It crashes over me like a wave.
I jerk away violently, disgust and nausea crashing through me. "Don't," I choke.
Drake recoils, eyes wide. "Shit—Vee, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
My hands shake as I brace against the counter, breathing hard through my nose.
"Please," I whisper.
Drake's expression tightens with guilt. "I'm sorry. We'll spend time with you as soon as Marie's heat breaks. All of us. We'll focus on you for a while. We have to work through what happened with the zoo."
As soon as.
The promise is dust in the wind.
