“Nooooo,” I whine.
“Shh,” Eli hushes as my door opens. I feel his arms slipping around me. “I gotcha, Alley Cat. Let’s get you cooled down, yeah?”
I press my shivering hand low on my abdomen, hoping I can push the rising temperature away. Something is shifting inside of me, and quickly. I should still have some time, though. My heat isn’t due until next weekend.
This feels different than my other ARS heat swells.
And I’m not sure I’m ready for what that means.
Eli
Thank God for federal holidays.
I kick my front door shut behind me as Lia whimpers against the crook of my neck. Her cheek is pressed into my shoulder.
Every federal holiday, Gloria’s parents take Amber out for the day. They take her to movies and museums and out to eat. They run her to the bone at the park, or if it’s raining, they take her to this trampoline park she adores.
They do whatever they can find to burn her energy down to the bone before bringing her home, and I’m glad today is one of those days. Because Lia’s scent?
It’s ripe.
Overly sweet in a way that clings to the back of my throat and makes something deep in my chest tighten. Memories flood me. Memories of messy heats and messy nests and claiming marks.
This isn’t just a building preheat anymore. I’ve been around enough Omegas in my life to know the difference.
This is morphing into something else.
Something heavier.
Something that might end up sticking around.
“She okay?” I ask Knox as I carry her down the hallway toward my bedroom.
“Burning up,” he says from behind me. “She started leaking in the truck.”
A low whine escapes her as if she heard him, her fingers curling weakly into the front of my shirt.
“I hate this,” she murmurs.
“I know, Alley Cat,” I say quietly. “We’ll get you set up real good, okay?”
Knox’s footsteps veer toward my bathroom before I even reach the bedroom. By the time I get her settled into my bed, I can already hear the rush of water filling the tub.
“Bath’s running,” he says.
“Hot,” Lia whimpers, her head lolling back as she blinks up at the ceiling. “Need it hot.”
Knox and I exchange a look.
He crouches in front of her, his voice gentle. “Did you drink your tea this morning, Sunshine?”
Her brows knit together. “I… don’t remember. I’m sorry. This morning is such a blur… I’m usually not in a kitchen that early.”
“You’re okay. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just asking.”
“The bakery was busy,” she says, her voice barely more than breath. “I just— I don’t?—”
“If the whole morning’s a blur for you, then it’s safe to assume you most likely didn’t drink it.” I jam my hand into the pocket of my jeans. “Knox, keep an eye on her. I’m going to call Walker, see where he is.”
