The instant the call connects, Johanna’s desperate voice calls across the distance.
“Nathan’s going into rut!”
Chapter 35
Alpha Rut
JOHANNA
“Mate. Mine.”
As with many afficionados of iconic romantic plays and films, I’d thrilled to uncounted alpha heroes and heroines pledging their affection for their omega counterparts. Beatrice allowing Pack Benedick to claim her with a kiss. Pack Johnny freeing Baby from the corner. Hephaestion being courted by Alexander the Great and his pack.
Hearing these directed at me in person, though, provides nowhere near the thrill. I like Nathan on so many levels, have every intention of exploring our attraction and building it to be pack-worthy, and am definitely teetering on the brink of love—but we’re not there yet. Alphas may be creatures of instinct, but not betas, or not most of us, or notme.
I want to be in love and loved. Gods, so much. I can practically taste my dream of being part of a pack turning into a reality—as though each breath carries a hint of three different scents melding into one.
But not yet. As ready as I am to move fast, my heart thumps in my chest at an almost painful rate. A bitter copper tang floods my mouth. My hands shake.
Even were I ready to hear these words, this is the wrong place. It’s Max’s bedroom whichwasmine, but isn’t anymore. I can still imagine him strolling through the empty space, dropping wet towels in the bathroom, flipping through his closet in search of some specific piece of clothing that invariably turns out to be at the bottom of his hamper, or sifting through my hamper for something with my scent, before heading off on an overnight trip.
True, something between Nathan and me changed when he shared Max’s last message. We came so close to being part of a pack, but Nathan courted Max and not me. I don’t blame him for that—Max was the sticking point in any negotiations—but that leaves me catching up, while Nathan has clearly zoomed to the end of the trail.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, no doubt Caity and Bebe and Corin responding to Anamaria’s group text announcing her coming heat and consequent retreat to the Omega Center.
I’m alone in the house with Nathan.
No, not Nathan—his alpha. His every aspect shifts, movements are looser and less controlled. His walk becomes a stalk, back arched and head angled forward. His pupils expand, almost completely obliterating his irises.
His nostrils flare and twitch as I shift and inch toward the door, his movements adjusting as though he’s guided by scent rather than by sight.
The changes rouse vague memories of reading the warning signs of an alpha lost to rut, when instincts completely overwhelm rational thought. The need to possess and claim rules alphas in rut. Everyone gets training in how to identify and deal with rutting alphas, but that was way back in high school!I don’t remember anything, not even from movies with rutting characters, about what to do in real life.
I take a slow, cautious step back, then another, through the doorway and into the hall. Nathan’s alpha grabs hold of the door, preventing me from closing it between us. He prowls forward, but slowly.
“Mate,” he repeats, though his eyelids flicker and for a moment, his pupils retreat and his irises reemerge, only to vanish again.
Fingers fumbling at my pocket, I grab my phone and speed dial Corin. “Nathan’s going into rut!”
“Are you sure?”
Of all the times for Corin to second-guess me, sounding flustered in the bargain.
“Corin!”
Nathan steps through the doorway, swaying, his shoulders brushing the sides. The movement shifts the air flow so that I get a full-face flush of his scent. Hot wax, freshly snuffed candle, and heavy alpha musk, all merge to hit me with a rush of lust. My nipples pebble, poking at the front of my shirt. Blood rushes to my groin, so each movement rubs my clit. My breaths grow shallow.
I match his forward momentum with backward steps, carefully, cautiously. I don’t want to get into a not-game of chase or accidentally tumble down the stairs.
“Mate.” This time Nathan lingers on theabefore closing the word with a choppedt.
“I don’t . . .” Corin stutters through the phone. “Are you alone? Is Caity anywhere near?”
“No, it’s just me.” Anamaria’s not far, but I’m not calling her back with her heat close. Bad enough to have Nathan focused on me; worse, if he were to shift to her.
Nathan reaches for me as I slip back. His fingers brush my arm, sending ripples of unwanted pleasure along my nerves. Despite my body’s physical response to Nathan, I don’t want him likethis. To hell with biological imperatives to mate—especially for those of us no longer young.
Much as I long for a pack, to be bound in spirit with bites and bonds, I want us to do it with deliberation, surrounded by the rest of whatever pack we make around us. To choose each other with both our rational and instinctive selves. This is far from that, yet it happened so fast, I have no idea how we got here.
