Chapter 19
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up.”
I groan into the pillow, eyes unwilling to open, even as arms scoop underneath me and haul me up. Another feeble groan of protest escapes me as I sink into my alpha’s hold, his dusting of chest hair and soft stomach perfect for cuddling, and bright citrus scent making my mouth water.
“You can stay like this,” he murmurs against my hair. “Just rest and we’ll take care of you.”
I nod against his shoulder. Even if I wanted to be set down, my body is so limp and noodly that I doubt I’d be able to stay upright. But why would I ever want to stop having him hold me? I could live in Ambrose’s arms.
He carries me into his bathroom, or at least I assume that from the sound of a shower running since I still can’t open my eyes. The thought of washing off all the perfect scents coating my body makes me whine, and a low chuckle reverberates against me.
“I know. I don’t want you to wash it off either, but you’ll be uncomfortable if you go to bed all sticky with cum and sweat.”
I sigh dejectedly, and he chuckles again, stepping us into the shower and under the blissfully warm stream of water. “I promise we’ll get our scents all over you again. Whenever you want.”
“We’re yours, angel,” River’s voice rumbles as he joins us in the shower.
Something tense in my chest that I hadn’t even noticed was hurting eases a fraction knowing he’s in here, too.
“Where’s Jackson?” I ask, my voice a raspy croak.
“Changing the sheets and checking on Dolly,” Ambrose replies, soothing a hand down my back.
I whine again at the thought of the pheromone-soaked bedding not being there when I return.
River steps in behind us and presses a kiss to my shoulder, soapy hands running down my arms. “He’s also getting lots of our laundry to make it smell good for you, omega.”
“Oh…okay,” I sigh, relaxing again. I guess it wouldn’t make sense to get clean and then go back into a soiled bed…
Drifting in and out as my alphas wash me, I barely register when we get out of the shower and dry off.
The next thing I know, I’m back in bed, and there’s something wet snuffling against my cheek.
A smile curls my lips as I crack my heavy eyelids open to find a little dachshund right in front of my face.
“Dolly, no honey, let her rest,” Jackson huffs, his hands wrapping around her long torso to move her away.
I shake my head and reach out to pet her.
Unexpected tears well in my eyes. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” I croak to the dog as she circles on the bed and then settles right on the pillow next to my head.
Her subtle, sunshiny smell mingles with the warm, soothing scent of Jackson’s t-shirt balled up next to me, and my eyes fall shut again.
As the bed dips and everyone finds a spot to snuggle close to me, and the comforting blend of pack washes over me, I drift off to sleep.
Too hot.
I stir awake, sweaty and overheated, trying to kick off the blanket, but it’s stuck under something. I tug, and there’s a corresponding groan from beside me that makes my eyes flash open.
Oh god. I’m not at home. In my sleepy stupor, I’d forgotten but…
I roll over and come face-to-face with River, suppressing a gasp so I don’t wake him up. It’s still mostly dark in the room, with only a hint of the rising sun coming in through the window, but it’s enough for me to drink in his features while he’s not watching.
My chest aches at how beautiful he is when he’s not frowning. He looks so much younger in this relaxed state, like the version of who he’d be if he didn’t have the weight of his past and anxieties constantly on his shoulders.
The urge to stroke his hair from his brow rises, but I don’t want to disturb him.
Something shifts beside him, and River’s lips curve into a sleepy smile.
Ambrose lets out a contented sigh, and the blanket tugs as he pulls his mate in closer to his chest.
I wait until they both settle again, Ambrose’s soft snoring filling the air. With each moment that passes, panic settles deeper into my chest.
My heat spike, or whatever it was, has clearly ended, because my anxiety is back in full-force. Sure, my omega protests a little when I realize I can slip out of the bed on the other side, but the need to get the hell out of here and process what happened is too strong.
Guilt swells inside me to match the urge to run as I look down at the pair of sleeping alphas. They’re so happy and relaxed right now. If I leave without saying goodbye, I’ll ruin that.
Fuck, I don’t know what to do. Last night, it all made sense. It was simple to let go of my worries when my omega’s needs were at the forefront and they were saying all the right things. Now…
I don’t know how to feel. I resigned myself to being on my own when I cut them out of my life.
I’ve been alone for so long that, as much as it hurts, it’s easier than opening my heart again.
Relying on myself is safe, or it was before I became an omega.
Decades of life experience that’ve proved it’s better for me to go it alone war with my omega’s needs.
This would be so much easier if those damn suppressants did their job. I don’t want to be beholden to my body and instincts, with the looming specter of heats and touch starvation forcing my hand.
How can I know if being a part of this pack is really what I want like this?
How can they know they really want me?
After all, I hurt them. I made terrible assumptions and cut them out of my life. If I were in their shoes, I don’t know if I’d be able to forgive so easily. Are they doing this only because they know I need them? Or because their own instincts are telling them to take care of me?
The bedroom becomes claustrophobic as my worries press in on me.
My dress and underwear are nowhere to be found, and I doubt that they’re in a state for me to wear again anyway, so I grab one of Ambrose’s shirts from the foot of the bed and slip it on.
His scent envelops me and takes some of the edge off of my stress, but at the same time, it agitates me more knowing how easily I’m influenced by my omega’s instincts.
After spending a lifetime without these kinds of reactions, it feels like I’m being hijacked. Even if the reaction makes me feel better. Even if every cell in my body wants to climb back in the bed with the alphas and stop worrying.
What’s instinct, and what’s real?
I tiptoe out of the bedroom, not allowing myself to look back for fear of caving to the tug in my stomach begging me to go back to them.
I only make it to the base of the stairs before I’m caught by a tiny dog with ridiculously good hearing. She barks from down the hall, alerting the humming beta in the kitchen and ruining any chance I have at sneaking away.
Jackson appears in the hallway with Dolly in his arms and an apron covering his bare chest, his mouth splitting into a brilliant smile when he sees me.
“What are you doing up?” he asks, moving to my side to kiss my cheek.
I stiffen at the question, then curse myself as his smile falls.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…” Shit, I’m not good at lying. A pit opens up in my stomach as I grasp for any excuse other than that I’m freaking out and wanted to run away.
“Ah.” Jackson nods, like I confessed everything with a single word. He shifts Dolly onto one arm, holding her like a football, and reaches out to take my hand. “Come on, I’m making breakfast. Let’s get some food and coffee into you before we try to tackle that ‘nothing’.”
I let him lead me into the kitchen, guilt thrumming through me, but he squeezes my hand and smiles.
“You feel up to cutting some strawberries?” Jackson inclines his head toward the colander full of them by the sink. “Or should I not give you a knife right now?”
His joke disarms some of my guilt, and I snort. “Don’t worry, this isn’t a stabbing kind of ‘nothing.’”
He shrugs and places a cutting board and knife on the island. “I wouldn’t blame you. River acted pretty damn stabbable. Might teach him a lesson for running out on his pack.”
My chest tightens at his reference to what River did.
Jackson sighs melodramatically at my grimace. “You’re right. Stabbing isn’t the right punishment. The dude is covered in tattoos and he’s a kinky freak, so he’d probably like that.”
A laugh bursts out of me, and Jackson winks, then goes over to the coffee pot to pour me a cup.
He goes to the fridge and gets out hazelnut oatmilk creamer, pouring in the perfect amount like he’s made me morning coffee for years rather than the one time he saw me make it when he stayed at my place.
My eyes burn, and I look away, focusing on the strawberries and willing myself not to cry at how much he cares. The memory of the look he gave me last night swells inside me as he sets the mug on the island and steps in behind me, placing a hand on my hip and pressing his chest to my back.
“It’s okay to be scared,” he murmurs. “It’s okay not to know what you want to do yet.”
The tears spill down my cheek as he rests his chin on my shoulder and I set the knife down. “I know what I want to do, but how do I know that’s not just my omega talking?” I whisper.
He sighs and guides me to turn around and look at him.
I expect to see disappointment or pain on his face, but the sheer affection and acceptance in his eyes knocks the breath out of me.
“Cami, you and your omega are the same person. There’s no way to know because there’s no way to separate the two. ”
“I hate it.” My voice sounds fragile and bitter. “I hate not knowing if I’m making the wrong choice because my instincts want me to have a pack…”
Jackson cups my cheek, his touch warm and reassuring.
I fight back a sob. “Not knowing if you only want to be with me because of instinct and obligation.”
His brow furrows into deep lines. “You know how I feel. I’m not saying it because I don’t want to pressure you, but Cami, you fucking know. I’m a beta. It’s not instinct for me. It’s because you see me, and I see you.”