2. Chapter 2 - Dahlia
" N o, I didn't throw the damn report at his head, but I wanted to." I cradle my phone between my ear and shoulder while chopping vegetables. "You should have seen his smug face when he told me I work for him now."
Emily laughs on the other end of the line. "So instead of throwing things, you made out with him on his desk?"
"I did not…" I stop myself because technically that's exactly what I did. "It wasn't like that. I don't know what happened."
"Uh-huh." I can practically hear her smirk through the phone. "You’ve met Evan twice at a research conference, and both times you have wanted to poke your fingers in his eyes, and now you've just’ accidentally fallen on his lips."
"I'm serious, Em." I put down the knife before I hurt myself. "Something weird happened. It was like... my body took over. I couldn't think straight."
"That's called attraction, Dahlia. Some of us experience it regularly."
I roll my eyes. "I know what attraction feels like. This was different. More... intense."
"How intense are we talking?"
I hesitate, glancing around my empty apartment as if someone might overhear. "I had to cum three times before I could get myself back under control."
The silence on the other end stretches out so long that I check to see if the call dropped.
"Emily?"
"I'm sorry… did you just say THREE TIMES?"
"Yes." I press my forehead against the cool refrigerator door. "I couldn't stop... You know."
"Dripping?" Emily supplies helpfully.
"Yes. That." My face burns. "I've never been that turned on in my life. From just a kiss! It doesn't make sense."
"Dahlia, are you okay? That doesn't sound normal, even for someone who's been in a dry spell as long as yours."
"Thanks for the reminder," I mutter, returning to my chopping. "And no, I don't think I am okay. Something's wrong with my body."
"What do you mean?"
I pause, trying to find the words. "I've been feeling off for weeks now. Hot flashes, heightened sense of smell, weird cravings. And now this... uncontrollable arousal. It's like my hormones are completely out of whack."
"Maybe you should see a doctor? Or run some tests on yourself, since that's what you do anyway."
"Maybe," I admit. "I've been so focused on the Crimson Plague research; I haven't had time to…"
I hear something drop from somewhere in my apartment, and it cuts me off mid-sentence. I freeze with my knife suspended in mid-air.
"What was that?" Emily asks.
"I don't know." I keep my voice low, straining to hear any other sounds. "I think someone's in my apartment."
"Dahlia, call the police!"
"I'll call you back," I whisper, ending the call before she can protest.
I set my phone down silently and grab the knife, holding it in front of me. My heart pounds against my ribs as I edge toward the doorway of my kitchen. The layout of my apartment means anyone coming in would have to pass by to reach me, giving me at least a chance to see them first.
The hallway is dark, just as I left it. I strain my ears and catch the faintest sound of breathing that isn't mine.
"I have a weapon," I announce, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "And I've already called the police."
No response...
I take another step forward. "You picked the wrong apartment to…"
A hand clamps around my wrist with lightning speed, twisting until the knife clatters to the floor. Before I can scream, another hand covers my mouth, and my face is pressed against the wall, my cheek smashed against the cool plaster.
"Don't scream," a deep voice says against my ear. "I'm not here to hurt you. If I let go, will you stay quiet?"
Like hell I will. I kick backward, aiming for his shin, his knee, anything, but he shifts, and catches my leg with his own, effectively trapping me.
"Please," he says, his voice dropping lower. "I just need to talk to you. My name is Onyx. I don't want to hurt you."
Something in his tone makes me pause. I stop struggling, my chest heaving against the wall.
"I'm going to let you go now," he says. "Don't scream."
The hand over my mouth slowly releases, and he backs away, giving me space to turn around.
I whirl to face him, pressing my back against the wall for support.
The man, Onyx, is huge, towering over me with broad shoulders that block out the light from the kitchen.
In the dimness, I can make out his features.
He has long, dark hair that is pulled back into a ponytail, and his eyes seem to reflect light like an animal. Plus, he's fine as fuck.
"What the hell?" I spit out, my voice shaking with anger. "Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?"
"I'm sorry," he says, and he sounds like he means it. "This was the only way I could meet you alone."
"There's this thing called a phone. Or email. Or literally any other method that doesn't involve breaking and entering." I snap. My eyes dart to the knife on the floor. He notices and kicks it away with his boot.
He shakes his head. "It's too risky. People are watching you."
"Yeah, apparently!" I gesture wildly at him. "What do you want from me?"
His expression hardens. "I want your cure."
"My what?"
"The cure for the Crimson Plague." He takes a step closer, and I press myself harder against the wall. "I know you're working on it."
"How do you…"
"I'm the Alpha of the Stonefang pack," he interrupts. "We've lost twenty people to the virus already."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Well, you're about twelve hours too late. My funding was just cut, and I've been strong-armed to work for Blackthorn Biotech. So, if you want to talk about my research, you'll have to take it up with Evan Blackthorn."
"My cousin Mara is infected," he continues. "She doesn't have much time. I need to put an end to the transmission before I lose anyone else."
The desperation in his voice catches me off guard. I've been so wrapped up in the science, in the molecules and mutations, that sometimes I forget there are actual lives at stake.
I sigh, suddenly exhausted. "Look, I haven't found a cure. I was making progress, but then my funding was cut, my lab was ransacked, and now you're in my apartment giving me a mini heart attack. Nothing has gone right since I started researching this virus."
"You're my only hope," he says quietly.
Something inside me bristles at his words. "I hate that phrase. 'Only hope.' It's melodramatic and puts unfair pressure on people."
"It's the truth." His eyes flash with anger, and he suddenly slams his fist into the wall beside me, making me jump. "You think I want to be here? Begging a human for help? My people are dying!"
The impact leaves a dent in my drywall, and I should be terrified, but something else is happening to me. A musky, wild scent like sand after rain floods my senses, and it overwhelms everything else.
Heat crawls up my spine, spreading through my body like wildfire. My skin prickles, and suddenly I'm burning up from the inside out.
"Are you…" I gasp, doubling over as a cramp seizes my abdomen. "What's happening to me?"
Onyx's anger vanishes, replaced by shock. He stares at me as his nostrils flare. "No," he whispers. "It can't be."
"Don't come near me," I manage to say, pressing a hand against the wall to steady myself. My legs feel wobbly, and there's a pulsing ache building between my thighs. "Don't come near me."
But he does the opposite. He walks closer to me; his eyes never leave mine. "When did this start?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I pant. Sweat beads on my forehead, and my clothes feel too tight, too rough against my hypersensitive skin.
He reaches out slowly, and I should slap his hand away, but when his palm touches my cheek, I can't help leaning into it. His skin is blissfully cool against my burning face.
"Fuck," he swears softly. Then he leans in, his nose skimming the side of my neck, inhaling deeply.
A growl like an actual growl rumble from his chest, vibrating against me where our bodies nearly touch. The sound sends a jolt of pure need straight to my core, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning.
"Impossible," he whispers against my skin. "After all this time..."
"What?" I ask, my voice barely audible. "What's happening to me?"
"You're an Omega," he says, his voice thick with disbelief. "A dormant Omega who's just woken up."