She is pack.
I grit my jaw, ignoring my Alpha. I know sheispack. But that’s not what I’m worried about. It’s been only twenty-four hours since we’ve met. I haven’t even been able to tell her my favorite color yet. But hopefully I can rectify it soon along with everything I’ve done wrong, including acting like an Alpha-hole. Not to mention, I think I’m the one who threw her into heat. My near rut and the way I manhandled her most likely set her off, or helped the process.
There’s also the fact she mentioned she’s touch starved. Even though she couldn’t scent us, nor could we at the beginning, our Alpha’s and Beta recognized her and her Omega recognized us. She needed to be taken care of, and her Omega took over and did it in the best way she knew how.
I turn off the water, my skin red from the heat of the water. I grab a towel and dry off before wrapping it around my waist. Iris didn’t leave the wash closet yet, and while part of me wants to leave her in peace, my Alpha stops me.
She needs you.
Anxiety builds in my chest, and I step closer to the door she’s behind. She’s been in there for a while and in my mind all I can picture is her in another wave of heat, suffering on the floor, begging for me.
“Iris?” I call out.
There’s no answer, which does nothing but put the fear of the gods in me. I place my hand on the handle and use my other to knock.
“Iris?” I yell louder. “Are you alright?”
I press my ear to the door after another second and that’s when I hear it, a sniffle and the low keen of an Omega whine.
“Omega, can you open the door?” I don’t lace it with a bark, even if my Alpha wants to. I don’t know what’s upsetting her and I don’t want to make it worse. There’s a pause after my question, followed by what sounds like a hiccup.
“Iris,” I coax. “I’m going to open the door so I can help you.”
I wait a few seconds for her to protest, but when the only answer is another hiccup followed by a sob, my heart breaks and I turn the handle. The sight that greets me is one I both expected to find but hate that I did.
Iris is seated on the floor in front of the toilet, legs hugged to her chest as she cries. I slowly walk in, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. Which is hard to do when you look like me, but I manage it by holding my Alpha back and relaxing my muscles.
“Little Omega,” I say quietly. “What’s wrong?”
My question only makes her cry harder, and I’ll admit I’m out of my element here. I fix problems every day on set and in our business, but Mateo and Augie—even Jett—are much better at handling emotions. But I’m here now, and my Alpha wants me to help our Omega.
Iwant to help her.
My nostrils flare to scent her, see if she’s in a heat wave again. But while it smells of her in here, it’s not sweet and syrupy like before, instead it’s sour. Her distress has changed her scent.
“I’m fine,” she whimpers. “You can go.”
“I can’t do that, Iris. I need to know what’s wrong.”
She pries her face from her knees and glares at me with her watery eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The anger in it surprises me.
“You don’t want me, so you can go.”
I cock my head, brow knitting in confusion. “That’s not true.”
Fat tears trail down her cheeks and I cautiously take a step forward. Her lip quivers and her nose scrunches. Several emotions I can’t read without a bond in place flash through her grey eyes before she blinks, swallowing hard. When she opens her eyes they’re clearer, and a pink flush rises in her cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
“Because it’s how you feel.”
She shakes her head. “My Omega, she’s—she’s unhinged.”
I smile despite the situation. “I can relate to that. My Alpha is the same.”
Iris wipes at her cheeks and smiles back at me, the sight healing a bit of my cracked heart. There isn’t space for me to join her on the floor so I squat instead, the towel around my waist hardly covering me. “Can you tell me why your Omega feels that way?”
Iris fights to keep her eyes on my face and I’d smile wider if this wasn’t a serious conversation.
