Chapter 10 Delilah
TEN
Delilah
ONE YEAR EARLIER
I smile as a glimpse of sunlight shines through a gap in the wispy curtains. My heat is finally over. Along with the dull, satisfying ache between my legs, I’m left with the feeling of utter completeness.
I quickly check my cell phone on the bedside table, realizing that aside from sending a few cryptic messages, I haven’t been in touch with my friends for a few days. With the mountains as a backdrop, I send proof of life via a selfie of me lying in bed with a croissant and a goofy smile.
My daily horoscope alert pops onto the screen: “Be careful, danger lies ahead.”
I roll my eyes. The only danger I’m at risk of right now is collapsing from multiple orgasms, and that’s a risk I’m willing to take.
Jagger’s scent still lingers in the air, coating all the blankets and sheets. If I could bottle it up and wear it, I would. It doesn’t matter that he’s a rockstar. I pop the last bite of pastry into my mouth, knowing we’ll make it work. That’s just what you do when you’re scent matches.
My parents are scent matches. From being around them, I’ve seen what true happiness looks like, the total acceptance that comes with finding “your” people. Mom has always taught me that true love can conquer anything, so whatever we’ve got to face, I know Jagger and I will do it together.
I sigh happily, collapsing back onto the cushions. This weekend has been a total dream, from being whisked away by a hot knight in shining armor to the breathtaking location. Not to mention the mind blowing sex. And this is just the start of our fairy tale.
The adjoining bathroom door opens, and Jagger steps out, wearing an oversized tee and pants.
“Clothes?” I pout. “You look better with them off.” My eyes stray to his ear. “Nice earring.”
He smiles at me, tugging on his earlobe. “I love it.”
He’s wearing one of my smiley-face studs. He commented on how much he loved them, despite them being a little nerdy, so I gave him one. Now we’re both matching. It’s only a small, silly token, but the way he smiled when I gave it to him made my heart soar.
“I just need to make a few work calls.” Nibbling on his lip sheepishly, he holds up his cell phone. “I’ll be right back.”
I slide one leg out of the covers, tantalizingly exposing my thigh while rubbing it over the blanket. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in longing, like he’s fighting the desire to return to bed.
The way he looks at me is all I’ve ever wanted, like I’m his everything. Our connection is more than just a primal attraction; our scents drew us together, our hearts, minds, and bodies instantly intermixing to prove that we are simply perfect for each other… Destined.
“Are you sure I can’t tempt you back into bed?”
“Fuck, you’re not making it easy for me.” Sighing, he drags a hand down his face. “But I really do have to take these calls.”
“Okay, rockstar.” I pull the sheets back up again, understanding that he must have a lot to catch up on after being AWOL all weekend. “Don’t be too long, though, okay?”
He smiles, a different kind of smile than the one I’ve become accustomed to. It’s strained, a tightness around his eyes. But before I can say any more, he slips out of the room.
I scroll through my social media, stumbling upon a video on The Valley Voice feed from the Pack Fire concert. An elated giggle escapes my mouth. The incredible vocalist on this track is as gifted in singing as he is in giving head. Who knew?
I spring up, sauntering through the suite while taking a bite of the delicious shortbread. I had a major craving for them so Jagger made sure I’m well-stocked. The buttery goodness melts on my tongue as I dance along to the shower to clean up.
I hum as I wash my hair, sniffing at my skin in disapproval when the lavish shower gels washes away Jagger’s scent. As soon as he comes back, he’ll have to change that. I love his smell on me.
After I’m done, I return to the bedroom, expecting to find Jagger waiting.
There’s still no sign of him. My poor alpha.
He’s probably overwhelmed with work. It’s my fault, and he’s been so attentive.
He’s catered to my every whim—not just physically, but making sure I’m fed, watered, and cleaned. I’ve never been treated so well.
How could I have gotten so lucky?
Looking down at my robe, I frown at the knock coming from the door. It’s probably one of the staff here. They’ve popped up intermittently over the last few days. That or maybe Jagger has forgotten his room key.
When I open it, I’m greeted by a rather stern looking woman with glasses whose lips are pursed into a thin, judgmental line. She gives off the aura of someone who thinks she’s better than everyone else.
“You’re the omega with Jagger Knight?” She looks down her nose at me in blatant disapproval, like I’m just some groupie. “Correct?”
I only smile. She doesn’t understand. What Jagger and I share is special.
And she’s probably never met a rockstar like him before.
He’s told me about his faux playboy persona and how his record label forces him to play this role to make more money.
Everything they’ve written about him in the media is untrue.
“Yes?” I pull the robe tighter around my body. “Can I help you?”
“Mr. Knight checked out one hour ago.” She draws her shoulders back.
“He says that you are free to stay as long as you’d like.
” Despite the words coming from her mouth, her expression says I’m about as welcome as a cockroach in a pantry.
“He’ll cover your expenses and will pay for a car to drive you wherever you’d like when you’re ready to check out.
” She sighs. “Although I do have another booking in two days, an omega who requires this nest, so if you want to stay any longer than that, you’ll need to move to an alternative room. ”
Struggling to process what she’s telling me, I steady myself on the door frame. There must be some mistake.
“S-s-orry?” I rub my temples. “Did you say he’s gone?”
“Yes.” She clicks her tongue impatiently, as if she hasn’t just shattered my world. “Like I said, he checked out. From what I understand from his social media, he’s off to a show.” She smirks. “I take it that he didn’t mention he was leaving?”
I silently pray I won’t cry, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break down. “I… Uh… I’ll pack my things.” Swallowing is difficult as it feels like a golf ball of grief is stuck in my throat. “I’ll be gone by the afternoon.”
“If you need any help packing, call the front desk to request the butler.” Her expression instantly brightens. “I’ll order a car. It’ll be waiting for whenever you’re ready.”
The moment she turns, I slam the door closed, heart thumping painfully as I rush over to the closet and tear it open.
All of Jagger’s clothes are gone, only empty hangers remain.
There’s no trace of him anywhere. It feels like a twenty-pound weight plunges to the bottom of my stomach when I realized that he must have packed while I was asleep or showering.
I rush over to my cell phone. With the speed of my heat coming on, we never exchanged numbers, so I go straight to his social media profile. My eyes immediately land on a photo of him posted less than an hour ago, grinning at the camera in sunglasses with the caption: “SVU - over and out!”
Over and out?!
What…?
The phone slips from my fingers onto the plush carpet.
We’re scent matches! He was the first to say so.
Fear tugs at my heart. It feels like I’m free falling. My chest heaves as I struggle to catch my breath, the panic creeping through me leaving my palms clammy. I want to run, yet I can’t move. I’m stuck. Paralyzed as an icy sensation wraps around my limbs, like a snake slithering over my skin.
As soon as I regain control of my rubbery legs, I race to the bathroom, vomit rising up my throat. I drop to the floor. The cold tiles slam against my knees, sending a chill through my body. My stomach tightens, battling not to throw up as I hug the toilet, uncontrollable shakes consuming me.
This can’t be happening…
After everything he confided in me—how he longed for a normal life, to be seen as more than just a product, to fall in love with music again and be able to create what inspires him without all the extra obligations that come from fame.
Why did he open up to me if he was planning on leaving all along?
I force myself to my feet, stumbling out to retrieve my phone so I can message Jagger.
Perhaps someone else is managing his account for him, and they used an old photo for his most recent update?
A sliver of relief swims through me. Yes, I reason, that must be it.
He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. There has to be a valid reason.
I send him a direct message:
ME
Where are you?
A tick appears a few seconds later to show it’s been seen.
I watch the few dots flicker on the screen as he types.
I stare, mesmerized by them, heart rate slowing.
Everything’s fine; he’s going to explain his abrupt departure, and I’ll realize how stupid I’ve been for ever thinking he’d just drop me like that.
JAGGER
Glad I could help this weekend.
The icy message slices through my heart like a knife rupturing a perfect mirror glazed cake. It’s a generic text he’d send to anyone—not your scent match after going through a heat together and sharing the most intimate details of your life!
This isn’t the alpha I got to know… and fell for.
ME
James? What’s going on?
I clutch the phone, waiting with bated breath as three dots appear on the screen again. Moments later, they vanish, my heart fracturing into tiny pieces along with all my hopes of a future together.
A message suddenly flashes:
“You have been blocked from contacting this user. All communication attempts to this profile are strictly prohibited.”
My lips tremble, reading over the digital rejection until my vision blurs, and all I see are squiggles. My phone slips from my fingers, hitting the floor with a crash.
He blocked me.
I crawl across the nest floor, dragging my limbs until my back is up against the wall.
I pull my knees to my chest, hugging them while rocking back-and-forth.
Tears stream down my cheeks as my entire body is wracked with uncontrollable sobs that echo around the spotless suite.
I sound like some kind of injured animal.
I bring the robe up to wipe my face, catching a dash of his scent.
Like an addict, I burrow my face into it, sniffing deeply.
It’s enough to remind me that this wasn’t a dream, that he was real.
Although his scent provides some relief, my stomach still twists painfully.
Is this the last time I’ll ever scent him?
Closing my eyes, I can still feel his touch, how his calloused hands gripped my thighs and tenderly stroked my face.
How his arms felt like a safe harbor when he held me close.
After experiencing so much elation this weekend, the memories of it now feel…
sordid. Dirty. Everything he promised me, the future we talked about.
.. In an instant, all of it has been decimated, and I have no idea why.
How could he do this? How could he leave without an explanation?
After crying for what feels like hours, I have no more tears left to shed. My eyelids are heavy, weighed down with burden as a crippling realization hits.
I type his name into a search engine, scanning the slew of articles about the countless omegas he’s allegedly seduced and been seen with. Maybe all these stories were true. It’s possible that everything he told me was a lie. After all, he performs for a living.
I groan, pressing my palms to my swollen eyes. How could I have been stupid enough to fall for his act? Am I that bad a judge of character?
Somehow, I manage to dress myself in the same clothes I wore when Jager and I first met.
I listlessly search the suite for my stupid pink hat, but don’t put much effort into it; I’m too drained.
Good fucking riddance. That misshapen monstrosity is what got me into this mess in the first place.
If I hadn’t chased it down the street, none of this would have happened.
I stagger out of the hotel, ushered into the waiting car by staff who treat me like a piece of trash they want to discard before anyone else sees. To them, I’m just another groupie. Someone who spread her legs just because he’s a rockstar. Only good for one thing.
I started this day believing I’d found my scent match. How can it end like this?
I never knew it was possible for intense emotions to cause such physical pain. I feel like I’m being crushed from the inside out, like a car has parked over my lungs, and every breath is a battle for oxygen.
I don’t think I can physically or mentally take an ounce more, so I don’t look back at Grand Point Lodge as we pull away.
Was I too na?ve? Too trusting? Kady would say I’m too nice. But he seemed so sincere, so genuine. I’d believed him. Fuck, I’d really believed him.
I bite my inner cheek so hard that it bleeds, holding back more tears to avoid having a mental breakdown in the back of the car.
Jagger used me. He left me. And he lied.
And what’s worse, a small part of me is still clinging to the hope that he’s going to come back, that there’s been some mix-up. It’s pathetic, but it still feels like he’s mine. I can’t describe it any other way. He’s my match. My person… Yet now he’s gone.
How am I ever going to feel whole again without him?