I jump at his voice, but I do step into the sacred space. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have?—”
“I grow weary of that word,” he says in his signature surly tone.
“Huh?”
“You keep apologizing. I’ve heard you utter the words ‘I’m sorry’ more times in the past sixteen hours than I have the entire time I’ve known you. I never want to hear those words leave your lips again. You’ve never had anything to apologize for.”
Have I really been saying it so often? I hadn’t noticed. He turns around and walks toward me, his expression burning. “I actually hate who you are here.”
The fuck? Back to asshole alpha.
“Believe me, I loathe being here.” I try to leave. I don’t need to deal with whatever shitty mood he’s in, but he grabs my arm. It’s not tight, I have the strength to rip myself out of his grasp, but he looks down at me with glossy eyes.
“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve been a ridiculously confident woman. You had me buy you a $12,000 painting within ten seconds of meeting you. You deserved everything in this world. You claimed it, demanded it. Being here with us hasturned you anxious and uncertain, extinguishing the luminous light within that drew me to you in the first place. You’re hiding from us, and not telling us what you need. The scent of your distress is burned into my bones. So yeah, I hate it. I miss the Madeline who wasn’t scared and timid, and I fucking hate myself for making you that way here. For the second time in my life, I feel like an absolute failure.”
He lets go of my arm, but he doesn’t step away. He towers over me, face full of regret. I want to tell him he’s right. That this turn of events has left me in turmoil.
“Yeah, because I’m fucking terrified.”
His handsome face twists with torment. “Of us? We would never ever hurt you in any way. We want to worship the ground you walk on and would beg at your feet for a moment of your affection. Alphas would do anything for their omegas. Including letting them walk away. So why are you terrified?”
“Because I’m trapped on an island I can’t escape. My entire future just got blown up. Because I swore to myself I’d never be in a pack, and yet here we are. I never wanted scent matches, but we’re immeasurably connected now. My heats will be more painful unless you are all there. I won’t be able to sugar baby anymore because the scent of other alphas will repulse me now, and we’re all going to need pharmaceutical intervention to keep us from going literally insane when I walk away.”
I expect him to demand my reasons for not wanting a pack. To rip open my broken heart and bleed my wounds all over him so he can finally understand why I’ll never see him again after this week.
Instead, he asks, “Why did you leave, Madeline? Why did you drive away on Friday?”
This was easier to explain. It doesn’t make me want to curl into a ball and cry.
“I told you when we were sitting at dinner, we wantdifferent things. You want me to be someone I can never be, or did you forget you paid for my time? I really did want you to go off and find the right omega for yourself. I didn’t want to stand in the way of your happiness.”
He moves even closer to me, my chest barely reaching the middle of his stomach.
“There has to be more than that. We’ve had a connection for the past year. One that could not be swept aside, unless there was a good reason. Even if you didn’t allow yourself to feel it like I did. You could have had your heat, lied that you didn’t have time to reach out to me, and we could have dated for longer.”
My frustration grows with every word he says. “You’re my client and I don’toweyou an explanation. You knew what you were getting into with this relationship. I told you on the first date we had, I hold all the cards. I see you if I want to, and if I don’t, I’m gone. Alphas don’t get to say how long a sugar baby relationship lasts; this was a business transaction.”
“Fine. What about as your scent match? Do I get an explanation for that? I know it has something to do with your past.”
This conversation is overwhelming. I don’t know how to make them understand I'm not the omega they need.
I’m suddenly seven years old again in my mother’s bathroom. Her heat has ended and she soaks in the large tub, the bubbles hiding most of the bruising and bite marks that never broke skin.
“Thank you,” she says. Her smile is tired as I scrub her hair with shampoo.
Charles, one of my dads, comes in dressed for work. My mom sits up, face a little brighter when he leans down and kisses her forehead. “You did great with your heat, I’m sure next year we will bond you. Just be a good omega until then.” He ruffles my hair when he walks by. If I had the ability to growl, I wouldhave. My mom collapses back in the tub so I can finish cleaning her hair.
“Are you hurt, Mama?” My voice trembles, scared for the answer.
She shakes her head, but the way she winces with any quick movement tells me something different.
“No, baby. You’ll understand when you’re older. Heats are a unique time for omegas. One sort of forgets themselves, especially alphas.”
“But you were screaming,” I whisper. “I could hear you, but the doors were locked.” My nanny, Sarah, had found me trying to break open the door. She dragged me away, claiming my mother was fine, but how could she be?
“That’s from knotting, I’ll explain it when you’re older. Your dads are very passionate.”
She says dads, but they don’t treat me like a daughter, just like they don’t treat her like she’s someone they even like.
