She taps on her phone with the pad of her finger and holds it up to Estelle. I have no idea how she uses a touchscreen with nails that long.
“Is that Ash?” Estelle pinches the phone to make the image bigger.
“You don’t recognize the haircut you gave her?” Tia tears open two Equal packets and dumps them in her mug.
“Babe! Deets. Right now, girl.” Estelle gasps.
“Look, it’s not what you think!” I hiss, looking over the alpha in Estelle’s section, not wanting him to over hear. I step away from the counter, fighting the childish urge to wrap my arms around my stomach. I can already feel the heat in my cheeks, the way this kind of conversation always makes my skin prickle.
Tia leans over the counter, her elbows planted, cupping her coffee in both hands. Her nails tap-tap-tap against the mug. “Oh, so you are not banging a hot pro athlete,” she says, grinning like a cat who just found the cream.
“No. I mean, yes. I mean, no.” I fumble the words and immediately regret every life decision that led me to this moment.
“And his pack too?”
“Babe, I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me.” Estelle lets out a low whistle, her eyes wide and delighted.
“No, seriously, it’s not what you think,” I say again, more desperate this time. “It’s all just very… confusing.”
“Confusing? What part of it’s confusing? Are you dating or are you not?” Estelle cocks her head.
Tia gasps. “Maybe they’re not dating, maybe they’re just…”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Estelle swats her shoulder.
“Well, we went out, and then his pack, they just smell so good…” I trail off, realizing how ridiculous it sounds, but there it is. Truth in all its embarrassing glory. Well, half the truth. I can’t exactly blurt out that I’m only seeing them to get revenge.
Tia laughs and collapses into her seat, her coffee sloshing dangerously. “Oh, that omega thing. I wish my nose could tell me who I should and should not be dating.”
“I shouldn’t be dating them,” I mumble into my sleeve, but Tia is already spinning her phone around, the screen bright with a photo of Beckett. She zooms in on his stupidly handsome face, and I want to crawl into the display case and live among the croissants.
“Ooh, I am gonna need all the details,” Tia says. “Every single one from your next heat.”
Heat
Oh god.
I’m never going to have heat with Beckett.
Papa would never allow it. He has Rex lined up.
The first time, he sent me to a pack. The omega was pregnant with twins and couldn’t properly “take care of the pack,” he said. He didn’t know when I’d be ready, so I stayed with them for a month. They let me make my first nest under a desk. The alpha would check me every day, sit me on the counter and put his fingers in me. When it finally happened, I was so scared the omega had to hold me down.
By the third time, Papa knew the signs and had a pack ready.
But then I started to argue, and Papa would lock me in my room until the need and desperation got so bad I would beg. It was awful but better, because I’d be so caught up in need, I wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t remember.
Twice a year. Always a different pack.
“Babe? Are you alright?”
“Oh fuck, sit down, Ash.”
“Kai, get some ice.”
I hear their voices, but I can’t tell who says what. My rising panic disorients me.
“Good girl. Put your head between your knees.”
