Chapter 9
chapter
nine
Okay, seriously.
Why the fuck am I here?
I know I ask myself that question way too often, but come on .
This is like some sort of bad lineup. The four of us, bare-chested, sporting band-aids on our biceps, leaning against the wall of the local police station.
Except for Spencer, who refuses to touch the wall. Or, you know, anything.
I put joggers on before we left, so at least I have pockets now. My fingers clutch at their seams while we wait, listening to Spencer’s foot tapping and Tristan’s heavy breathing and Jonah’s bullshit positivity.
I could bail .
The thought is way too familiar. I estimate it pops into my head at least once a day. Whenever I look around and wonder how the hell I wound up in a pack when I swore I never would.
I could leave. We aren’t bonded. And I’m the last-minute addition no one asked for. I lift right out. No one would miss me much, aside from Jonah, and he’s famous for his Zen resilience.
My gaze only makes it halfway to the exit before the door across from us swings open. Dr. Monroe stands there, holding up a tattered scrap of black.
My tank top.
Oh fuck no.
A panicked laugh leaps out of Jonah. “Uh, Arch, I don’t know if that’s a great idea. Our little thundercloud here tends to?—”
Holy.
Fucking.
GOD.
What is that ?
All of us snap to attention, four sets of focus locking on the open door behind the doctor.
We can all sense the scent swirling around in there. With the neutralizers in the air, it’s just a bit. Just a tease. But more than any of us should be able to catch.
It doesn’t even matter how I’m scenting it, only that I am . I drag more into my lungs and feel everything in me lurch .
Lush and bright and smooth and sweet.
It has the others in an absolute chokehold.
But me?
I’m dead .
Or maybe I was dead, and now I’m alive .
Because I feel everything .
My chest cramps, caving in and staying that way. The fists in my pockets tear through the seams. My cock springs up, hardening along with all of my muscles. They bulge out as my feet carry me closer.
“ Move .”
The word cracks out of me without connecting to any of my thoughts. I’m not sure who’s in charge here—my Alpha and I both feel equally determined to find the omega who smells like that .
Jonah’s doctor must value his life because he steps out of my path—only pausing long enough to remind me, “Careful. She’s very upset.”
Noted .
I think.
Can’t really stop long enough to be sure.
The door falls closed behind me, hanging just a little ajar. I’m lucky I notice it at all.
Because the girl in front of me is unholy gorgeous .
Fuck me hard.
Her black hair looks like a waterfall of ink. Shining, perfect darkness that flows over her back and shoulders like liquid night. Her skin is ashy but golden. Whatever true shade lurks underneath has been leached out by fear or something else. When she hears me, her head snaps up, revealing an oval face and big, scared eyes.
Both of my hands float up automatically.
In surrender .
I’ve never surrendered to anyone. They have to knock me unconscious or die trying. But in this moment? It comes as naturally as breathing.
And then I’m on my knees.
You bow to her , my Alpha says. Only, always her .
I don’t understand it.
Until I breathe, inhaling for the first time since I stepped over the threshold.
Creamy, fragrant coconut. Sticky-sweet fruit, tropical and fresh. Pineapples and mangos. Juicy, with an acid edge to balance the succulence. A top note of sunshine—warmth and depth and gold .
My lungs spasm. Pain and pleasure rip through my body, exploding, imploding. So good and so sharp .
It cuts. And I bleed. And I love it .
I can feel the oxygen carrying her scent, track its path through my blood. Every cell it touches sparks and smolders. Flames. Burns .
Am I ash? Or am I a phoenix?
Panting, my head falls forward. Waiting for her to let me come closer. Wanting to crawl on my hands and knees. Praying to a god I don’t even believe in.
Then I remember—she can’t talk.
As slowly as I can, I lift my chin and find her gaze. It’s green, woven with threads of gold. Like an emerald.
Striking eyes, rimmed by kohl lines, upturned slightly. She looks sort of like a black cat—all sleek and mysterious with those wide, gorgeous eyes.
I’ve spent my entire life asking myself why I’m here. Because wherever I was felt wrong .
But the second our gazes lock, my soul snaps forward.
Oh.
That’s why.