23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mira
I surface slowly from sleep, morning light from the bedroom outside filtering into the closet. I'm tangled in my blankets, but they're infused with a mixture of scents that makes me sigh with contentment. Smoked cedar and spiced vanilla, dark amber and citrus, leather and pine all wrapped around me in a cocoon of safety. I rolled myself burrito-style in them while I slept.
I sniff the blankets. There’s another scent not normally there. Fabric softener, which merges in with their scents. The blankets are clean. The stains I’ve never been able to get out are gone. The holes that were worn into the threadbare weave are mended. Who did that?
Memory filters back. I'd whimpered for their shirts, their sweaters, anything carrying their scents. Even Cole's shirt is wrapped around me, and something in my chest aches at the way his scent soothes me despite his absence. What kind of omega am I, to want an alpha who clearly doesn't want me? To find comfort in the scent of someone who can't stand to be near me?
The stress fractures barely holding me together begin to crackle and scratch. I need to hold them together. Need to bring them back into place. I close my eyes and clench my fists.
The sound of voices and clinking cutlery drifts through the closed bedroom door from the kitchen, accompanied by the rich aroma of coffee and something sweet. Breakfast time. I’m hungry yet again, but I can't face them. Not after last night's revelations about scents and mates and things I don't understand. No thanks. I'll hide here in my nest like the coward I am. Like the pathetic omega I try not to be.
I’m better physically. The intense exhaustion has lifted somewhat, replaced by a clarity of thought I'd forgotten was possible, but a strange sensation still scratches under my skin. Like heated pins and needles trying to break free. And worse, I'm aroused. Their scents surrounding me all night have left me wet, needy in a way that has nothing to do with heat and everything to do with them. With how right they smell. With how safe I feel.
Could Adrian be right? Am I their mate? My body is down with that idea, but my mind rebels.
Either way, it will end the same way. Me being bonded and living in real and metaphysical chains for the rest of my pathetic life. Thank you, fucked up biology.
Disgusted with wanting everything my omega heart makes me desire, I peel their clothes off my body, trying not to whimper at the loss of their scents. I need a shower to wash away these confusing emotions and dangerous wants. I need to remember who I am and why I don’t want this .
When I step into the bedroom, I freeze. Shopping bags line the wall, dozens of them, from expensive stores at which I've only ever window-shopped. Nordstrom, Bloomingdale's. Most are from specialty omega boutiques I would never have stepped foot inside. My stomach drops as I remember Zane's “joke” shopping yesterday; how he'd made me laugh with ridiculous selections.
Except, apparently, it wasn't a joke at all. He noted everything I actually liked.
I tiptoe to the bags, unable to resist peeking inside. My stomach clenches at the sight of soft sweaters, leggings that look warm and comfortable, practical boots but also delicate slip-ons. Everything is high quality but understated, exactly what I would choose if I could afford to choose anything at all.
Another bag reveals fluffy blankets in the sage green I'd lingered over during our “joke” shopping, satin pillows edged with pearl beading that had caught my eye, nesting materials that make me keen with want. Zane noticed everything… every pause, every lingering look, every small sign of appreciation I thought I'd hidden.
My fingers itch to dive into the bags, to pull everything out and surround myself with this thoughtful bounty. My omega side is salivating at the gifts, at the care they represent, at the way these alphas want to provide for me. The throbbing between my legs intensifies, and that's dangerous. I can't even blame it on heat anymore. This is pure want, pure omega response to caring alphas.
But everything comes with a price, and these gifts come with the highest price of all. Bonding rights. The more I accept, the more they'll expect in return. The more they'll presume entitlement to my submission, my body, my freedom.
And I’m a bomb that will detonate and blast us all apart with the secrets I keep.
It can’t happen. I have to remember that fact, no matter how much my biology wants to roll over and bare her belly. I turn tail and rush into the bathroom, away from temptation.
The hot water cascades over me, but instead of washing their scents away, the steam intensifies them. Their combined scents rise from my skin making my head foggy with arousal. They have become part of me in some fundamental way .
The strange warmth that never quite went away after my heat builds, transforming from uncomfortable pins and needles to molten desire. Every drop of water is a caress, sending shivers through my oversensitive body. My nipples tighten, sensitive against the spray of water, and I have to bite back a whimper. I'm swollen and aching between my legs, slick gathering despite the shower's flow.
I can't go out there like this, desperate and wanting. They'll smell it on me, scent my arousal. I have to take care of this first. Have to get myself under control. My hand slides down my stomach, finding my clit already swollen and sensitive. The first touch makes me gasp. I'm more aroused than I've ever been outside of heat. I try to keep my mind blank as I touch myself, try to maintain some semblance of control, but their scents surround me, making resistance impossible.
Images flood my mind… Adrian's strong hands that touch with such gentleness, Zane's bright smile that makes my heart flutter, and even Cole's brooding presence that stirs that something deep inside me. I imagine their touches, careful but claiming, tender but possessive. The way Adrian's fingers might feel against my skin, how Zane's lips might taste, what Cole's growl might sound like in my ear.
My fingers move faster, circles tightening around my clit as fantasy overtakes reality. Their scents grow stronger, or maybe I'm just more attuned to them now.
I shouldn't want this. Shouldn't imagine their hands instead of my own, shouldn't picture their bodies pressing against mine, shouldn't dream of how it would be to have all three of them touching me, claiming me, making me come.
The fantasy is too much, too real, too dangerous to contemplate.
But I can't stop.
Don't want to stop.
My fractured soul scatters, shattering into ever-smaller pieces as my climax draws close.
My other hand moves to my breast, fingers rolling my nipple as pleasure builds. Every touch sends sparks through my oversensitive body, making me arch. I'm so wet, slick coating my thighs despite the shower's spray. My scent blooms around me, mixing with the lingering traces of their scents on my skin to create something intoxicating.
I should stop. Need to stop. But my fingers slide lower, circling my entrance before dipping inside. The emptiness is unbearable, my body clenching around my fingers, wanting more. Needing more. It's not enough. Nothing is enough when my mind is filled with images of them, when their scents surround me, when my body screams for their cocks, their knots and everything I can't have.
Against my will, Cole appears in my fantasy… his dark head between my thighs, his leather and pine scent wrapping around me. I shouldn't think of him, not when he rejected me during my heat, not when he can barely stand to be near me, but the strange fire under my skin demands his presence.
In my fantasy, he wants me.
In my fantasy, he's not disgusted by me.
I picture his tongue replacing my fingers, Adrian's hands on my breasts, Zane's lips on my neck. And Cole…Cole is between my thighs lapping my slicked center. Teasing my clit. Drinking me. All three want me, claim me. The fantasy is so vivid I whimper, my fingers moving faster, deeper, chasing release. In my mind, they whisper praise against my skin, telling me I'm good, I'm theirs.
The pleasure builds higher, tighter, more intense than anything has a right to be. And still their scents surround me, still their imagined touches drive me wild, still my body begs for more.
“Adrian. Zane.” The pleasure crests suddenly, violently. “ Cole !” His name tears from my throat as my climax crashes through me. My legs buckle, and I have to brace against the shower wall with my free hand to keep from collapsing. Wave after wave of pleasure pulses through me, my inner walls clenching rhythmically around my fingers, my clit throbbing under my touch.
The sensation is more intense than anything I've experienced outside of heat. My vision whites out, my breath coming in gasping sobs, my whole body trembling with the force of my release. Their scents intensify around me, wrapping me in a cocoon of cedar, vanilla and leather until I’m saturated by them .
As the aftershocks fade, horror creeps in to replace the pleasure. My legs are still shaking, barely holding me up, and I slide down the shower wall to sit under the spray. What have I done? What is happening to me?
This isn't heat. This is just me, wanting things I can't have. Fantasizing about alphas who can never be mine. Calling out names I have no right to speak.
The water continues to fall, but it can't wash away my shame.
Or my lingering desire.
The bathroom door crashes inward with enough force to make me scream. Three alphas burst into the space, pushing against each other to be the first through. Before I can process what's happening, Cole rips open the shower door, reaching for me with urgent movements. Water soaks his expensive clothing, but he doesn't seem to notice.
“Where are you hurt?” His voice is rough as his hands run over my arms, my shoulders. “Did you fall? You called my name.”
Oh Gods. Had I called for Cole too? In the height of my pleasure, did I?
I didn’t just call his name.
I screamed it.
I try to push him away, but it's like trying to move a mountain. He's so big, so solid, and I'm naked and wet and mortified. My arms cross over my breasts as I try to maintain some dignity. “I'm fine! Stop touching me!”
But Cole isn't listening, his hands checking me for injuries, his shirt and tie plastered to his skin by the spray. “Where are you hurt? Tell me!”
“I'm not hurt!” I yell back, frustration and embarrassment making my voice sharp. “Stop touching me. You're not listening!”
I swipe at his hands that keep coming for me. A low chuckle draws my attention to Zane, who's leaning against the shower screen with a smirk. His nostrils flare as he scents the air. “Cole, brother, I don't think she's hurting at all. In fact...” His smirk widens. “I think she was feeling pretty good just now. Very good, considering there were mates named.”
Horror floods through me as I realize they can smell my arousal, my release, my desire for them, all trapped in the steamy air .
Adrian’s nostrils flare as he tips his head back and when he looks down at me, the pupils have swallowed the color out of his eyes. Cole isn’t so obvious, but as he stares at me, his scent grows thicker with his own desire before he freezes. His hands still on my shoulders and water drips from his dark hair. Cole's not pulling away in disgust.
“Oh,” he says softly, and the word contains volumes. I want to die. Right here. Right now. Drown in this shower and never face them again.
Maybe Haven was right about hiding our scents after all.
“Can I have some privacy?” I manage to whisper, wrapping my arms tighter around myself, although the action does nothing to cover up all my private bits.
If Cole doesn't stop touching me soon, they're all going to scent another wave of desire. Heat already pools at my core, my body responding to their proximity… and what is it about their scents magnified in the steam that makes me want to pull them all in here with me? I’m not even experiencing my heat anymore and I’m responding to them. My clit begins to throb. I need to get them the hell away from me.
“Of course. Wouldn't want to interrupt your... alone time.” Zane winks at me, and my face burns.
Adrian looks amused, a satisfied smile playing at his lips. They both seem... pleased. Content. Like catching their omega pleasuring herself while thinking of them is exactly what they want. Their scents carry notes of satisfaction, of possessive pleasure, of aroused interest.
They should be disgusted. Should be angry at my wanton behavior. Should be putting me in my place.
Instead, they look like cats who got into the cream, and I don't understand any of it.
“Cole,” Adrian says softly, and something passes between them in that single word.
Cole's hands finally drop from my shoulders, though he’s reluctant to step back. Water drips from his ruined clothes, but he doesn't notice or care .
“Breakfast is ready when you are, Little One,” Adrian says, and then they're gone, leaving me alone with my confusion and lingering arousal.