Page 26 of The Omega’s Nest

At least he’s polite enough to turn it into a question.

Cammie, who’d been giving me troubled looks, gasps. “He’s your mate?”

All I can do is nod and drop my head into my hands.

Erasmus doesn’t miss a beat. “I know this. It changes nothing.”

“What do you mean it changes nothing?” Cammie asks, outraged. “If he’s his mate, then they have to let him go.”

Erasmus snorts. “No, this has happened before. And trust me, it’s better not to tell anyone he’s your mate. You can’t confirm it without a knot, no?” It’s a rhetorical question and it’s also true. Our scents give us a pretty good indication that we’re fated—always have—but until Leo knots me in heat, we won’t know for sure.

“Don’t confirm it. If you do, then the criminal charges of trying to court a contracted omega might turn into a body taking a swim with the fishes.”

I drop my hands and look at Erasmus, mouth hanging open.

He shrugs. “It’s happened before.”

Fear claws up my throat so fast I can’t breathe. I double over, and Tristan and Cammie are beside me. I hear them as if from a distance, rubbing my back, soothing me, trying to bring me back. But how could I have been so fucking stupid? To keep letting Leo come back. I’m drowning in guilt.

A hand is under my chin, lifting my head up. I blink, and Erasmus’s otherworldly beautiful face swims in my vision. He holds up his fist, side on, white powder on the flat of skin between his knuckle and clenched thumb.

“Sniff,” he says and presses my nose down with a hand on the back of my head.

I snort and the cocaine burns my nostrils, makes my tear-filled eyes fill more.

“Drink,” he says and presses a glass to my lips.

I swallow the vodka when he tips it back.

The shaking recedes, replaced by euphoria and warmth, but the fear doesn’t abate.

Erasmus crouches in front of me. “None of the omegas here will betray you, you know this. But if you want to protect your mate, you must let him go now.”

I blink rapidly. Why had I hoped? Why had I let Leo in? Let him keep coming back?

Erasmus stares up at me, waiting for an answer.

I nod, a shaky jerk of my head.

“Good,” he says and stands. “Take the night off, I’ll cover for you.”

And with that, he marches for the door, his smell of a garden in spring bloom trailing after him.

Just before he leaves, he turns back, an uncharacteristic look of regret sweeping over his features. “You need to stop your suppressants.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me with another blow. It’s not unexpected. It was always going to be in a week or two. And short of forcing someone else onto the schedule ahead of me—something I’d never let him do—Erasmus is just doing what we have to do here.

“Adrian, fuck,” Tristan says, pulling me against his chest.

Cammie sits on my other side and rubs my back. His breathing is rough and I can smell the anger, the incredulousness pouring off him. Cammie is not going to make it here if he keeps thinking his rage will change anything. I need to get it together, for him.

I sit up, scrub my hands over my face, and try to smile.

“I’m okay,” I say. At least the coke makes me sound more solid than I feel.

But Cammie looks at me like I’ve gone insane. “You’re not okay! It’s not okay!”

His anger pummels me, and I wish I could get angry too. Anger would be preferable to this debilitating sadness. The coke and alcohol have numbed me, but I’d need a coma to escape the way my heart is cracking in my chest. If I didn’t know it was an emotional response, I’d think my heart was literally breaking.