Chapter 22
Life starts to feel bearable again in a surprisingly short amount of time. Astrid jokes that getting dicked down by three hot guys rebooted my brain and banged me out of depressed, anxious hermit mode, and I’m honestly not sure she’s wrong.
Sure, going into the office and seeing Lauren and friendly new coworkers most days of the week, getting back into client work after being unemployed for months, and generally having distractions from the specter of my social media infamy have helped tremendously.
But being an omega is weird, and I have a strong feeling that I wouldn’t have been able to embrace those things as fully as I have over the past few weeks if it weren’t for the heat spike and subsequent pheromone infusion.
I certainly wouldn’t be smiling as much, because I wouldn’t be getting a near-constant stream of texts from the men courting me.
It takes everything in me to fight the worry that it’ll all be snatched away as quickly as it was before.
I can’t imagine a scenario where Lauren would fire me out of the blue.
She’s already seen me at rock bottom, and I doubt I’ll become even more of a PR liability than I already am from the “old omega” nonsense.
Even if the pack suddenly decides they’ve changed their minds, or gets tired of waiting for me to take things at my glacial pace, I won’t be completely ruined again.
At least not financially. Emotionally, I’d probably need a full calendar year to recover.
Maybe more—one year for each of them, because I’m already thinking of the pack as mine again, despite my best efforts to go slow.
I’ve only seen them in person three times since my heat spike.
Once was a week ago when Jackson took me to get ice cream after the world’s most intense meeting about my potential case against Pulse.
Which I’m still on the fence about pursuing, and simultaneously guilty and terrified about.
The other two times were for medical reasons, because Ambrose wants to monitor my response to the increased suppressant dose I’m on.
The results of those quick meetups, where he was charmingly and frustratingly professional, weren’t promising.
Apparently, my body is so fucking determined to go into heat to make up for lost time that even the maximum dose of super potent, and frankly terrifying with its list of warnings, suppressants aren’t enough to keep my hormones stable.
I’ve kept communication with the pack to texts and calls to protect my heart, but it’s becoming clear how much of a lost cause that is.
The more we talk, the more I want to see them.
Not only because my omega is craving their touch and a higher dose of their pheromones than I can get via dirty laundry, but because I like them.
Before, when we were courting, things felt like a freight train barrelling down the tracks without me knowing much of anything about my fellow passengers, and forced onto it by my damn omega hormones instead of selecting the destination after careful consideration.
Now, I’m actually getting to know them. And it turns out, much to my logical, skeptical side’s chagrin, that they’re as amazing as my instincts told me. Maybe even better, because they’re not just nebulous hot guys who smell good, but real people with needs beyond “make Camille our omega.”
I’ll continue this charade of going slow a while longer, to satisfy the side of me that’s still scared of getting hurt. But it won’t matter. I can’t protect myself from getting hurt by these men, no matter what pace I set.
I’ve built up my defenses against any potential source of pain over the past forty years, and my omega came in and tore them down in a matter of months. I’m practically allergic to vulnerability, but it’s impossible now to live my life in a way that avoids it.
I hate it. I love the way these men make me feel, but I hate it.
Their overwhelming charm battering against my crumbling defenses is why I get called out for looking really happy during our end of the week “rest and chat” meeting that Lauren has put in place for everyone on our small team to decompress and get to know each other a little better.
It’s not mandatory fun like some places force on their employees, but everyone is in attendance because she’s creating an environment we’d actually enjoy.
Especially because we’re omegas and there are a bunch of puppies to snuggle in the cozy break area.
Yes, puppies. One of our new clients runs a non-profit in her spare time that trains therapy dogs for omegas that are touch-averse or otherwise dealing with trauma where they might need a dependable, snuggly canine companion.
It’s a good thing I found out about this after I started seeing the pack again, because I would’ve ended up with one of my own. I still might, because the little chocolate lab currently snoring in my lap is stealing my heart. I wonder if Dolly likes other dogs…
“So how are things going with that pack of yours?” Lauren asks, waggling her eyebrows at me as she scoops up the teeny chihuahua that’s currently trying to gnaw on her bright blue pump, and cradles it in her arms.
I flush, and the smile that’s been on my lips since reading Ambrose’s most recent message right before joining the hangout grows even bigger. “Pretty good so far.”
It would be even better if I accept their invitation to have lunch together tomorrow.
Not that it’s much of a decision to make.
As soon as they brought it up, telling me that it’s absolutely okay if I’m not ready for that, I knew I’d say yes.
I just had to pretend to consider it so I wouldn’t beat myself up for jumping to agree because my omega is craving them.
“Oh, you’re being courted?” Maya, the ultra-stylish, twenty-something omega Lauren hired as our head social media manager, asks, perking up, lifting her head from where she’s had her cheek buried against the basset hound puppy’s chunky belly. “That’s exciting. How did you meet? Is it new?”
“Oh, uh, well, we met in a few different places. And it’s newish.
We tried once before and things kinda got in the way, so we took a break, but we’ve decided to give it another go.
” I’m not about to tell all my coworkers the sordid details of my drama-filled dating life and unconventional heat clinic meeting, and I’m definitely not telling them that one of the alphas is my old boss.
Maya nods sagely. “Things can get so complicated. The pack I was seeing a few months back was so sexy, but as things progressed, they kept talking about how I’d need to stop working when we bonded.
So I broke things off, and now they won’t stop sending me ridiculously expensive jewelry and offering to fly me on their pack jet wherever I want to go.
” She sighs heavily, ignoring how I’m gawking at her casual mention of dating what sounds like a pack of billionaires.
“Are you nuts?” Kaiden, an omega in his early thirties with icy blond hair who is in charge of IT, scoffs, shaking his head at her. “Why do you care about working if they can fly you around on a private jet? Where did you even meet a pack like that?”
Maya’s golden brown cheeks burnish. “On a dating site…”
Kaiden’s eyes widen. “You mean the sugar omega one, don’t you?”
The young omega hides her face against the puppy and groans. “Don’t judge me! It’s better than going out to bars or using the regular apps. At least these packs don’t expect me to put out and bond with them after buying me a shitty chain-restaurant dinner.”
Lauren snorts. “See, this is why I’m glad I’m already bonded.”
I’m not bonded, but I silently agree. I’m more fortunate than I realized, if that’s what the dating landscape for an intelligent, gorgeous young omega looks like.
Amina, Lauren’s quiet and ruthlessly efficient assistant, frowns, but it’s directed at me, not Maya or Kaiden as they continue to chatter about dating escapades. “Is Holden Dobbs a member of the pack you’re dating?”
My eyes almost pop out of my head at her question. She asked it tentatively, with a hint of distaste that’s far more restrained than I’d have in saying that dick’s name aloud. “What? No!” I squeak.
The concern on Amina’s face fades. “Oh, good. I thought he was lying.”
My stomach clenches, alarm bells going off. “What do you mean?”
Amina shrugs slightly. “I was at a party with the alpha I’m dating last weekend, and this Holden guy was there.
When he heard I was working here, he started bragging about how he was sleeping with you.
That you were his omega. Which seemed wrong, given how cool you are and unpleasant he seemed, but attraction is weird, so… ”
Bile rises in my throat. What the fuck? “No, we have never, nor will we ever, sleep together.”
Lauren scowls at the thought. “Holden is an entitled nepo baby who can’t get laid despite his money and appearance. Not surprising at all that he’s resorted to lying. He’s such a fucking creep.”
The conversation moves on as everyone focuses back on the story Maya is telling about a different pack of uber-wealthy alphas who she dated, but I can’t focus on anything but the roiling nausea threatening to make me lose my lunch.
I can’t believe that disgusting alpha is saying things like that. And apparently being convincing enough that someone intelligent like Amina would even consider for a moment it might be true. Fuck, who else has he told that lie to? I thought I was done with his bullshit when I left Pulse.
Discomfort lingers in my mind as I leave the office once the puppy snuggle party ends, distracting me as I silently construct scathing insults and speeches that I’d give to cut Holden down if I ever have the misfortune of seeing him again.
That distraction is why I don’t notice until I’m a few blocks away from my apartment building that a man who walked out of the office building at the same time I did is still behind me.
The rage at Holden evaporates, replaced by a trickle of fear down my spine.
He’s not following me, is he? I try to keep my pace steady, but when I make a turn at the next intersection instead of heading straight toward my home, I catch his reflection in a shop window.
I take another random turn, looping back in the direction I came from. He follows.
Oh god.
He’s following me.
What do I do?
I can’t go home now. I’d go back to the office, but everyone has left for the day.
The sensation of eyes on my back makes my skin crawl and my heart race, and I want to break out into a run to get away from him, but there’s no way I’d be able to outpace him with his much longer limbs.
In the past, I might’ve stopped on a dime and turned to confront him, but my omega won’t let me do that.
She needs me to find somewhere to hide from this strange alpha before he barks and forces me to do what he wants.
The street I’ve turned down is less crowded than the main one we were on, because that’s just my shitty luck.
When it seems like he’s so close I can feel his breath on my neck, and I catch the noxious odor of his burnt rubber scent, I make the snap decision to turn into the shop beside me.
It doesn’t matter what kind of store, or restaurant, or office it is.
The door is open and the lights are on, and surely this alpha won’t attack me in front of whoever is working inside.
The bell on the door clatters as it swings open and shut as I rush inside. A petite blond beta sitting at a checkout counter startles at the noise, but I rush toward them. “Please, I need your help. Someone is following me, and I don’t—”
The bell on the door clatters, and my spine goes rigid, a whine of terror slipping from my lips.
The beta’s eyes go wide, and for a second I think they’re going to flee and leave me to my fate, but they smile at me.
“Of course, ma’am. Our attendant will be out in a moment to start your fitting.
” They turn to the hulking alpha looming in the entryway.
“I’m sorry, we don’t accept walk-ins. You’ll need to come back when you have an appointment,” they sigh in a haughty, cool tone.
They move out from behind the desk and put their body between me and the alpha, crossing their arms.
I’m trembling, terrified that I’ve endangered this poor beta because there’s no way they’ll be able to stop him if the alpha decides to ignore them.
Whatever humanity or shred of sanity the alpha has left inside him makes him blanch at the beta’s words. He mumbles something unintelligible about being in the wrong store, and leaves.
A sob of relief bursts out of me, and the beta walks over to lock the door behind him. I swipe away my tears and give them an apologetic frown. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I shouldn’t have—”
The beta holds a hand up. “Yes, you should have. Don’t apologize.” They peer out the front door, grimacing. “He’s still out there. I’ll call the cops.”
My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “N-no, that’s okay.
” If the cops get called, there’s no doubt that it’ll end up on the main page of that awful alpha news website.
Some bullshit about how I’m hysterical and making things up about innocent alphas because there’s no way to prove that alpha was following me or had ill intent.
The shop attendant’s brow furrows. “Do you have anyone else you can call? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need, but we were about to close for the day, so I’m the only other person here, and I don’t know if I can handle that alpha on my own…”
Jackson’s words from the other day at the ice cream parlor immediately pop into my mind.
“I’m so sorry. Yes, I’ll call them.”
My stomach sinks and fear starts to rise again as my attempts to call Ambrose and Jackson both go to voicemail. Shit, they’re both working. They can’t come right now.
My fingers tremble as I press the call button for the third time.
“Camille?” River answers after the second ring.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, voice wavering as relieved tears fill my eyes. “I know you’re probably working, but I need…I’m scared and—”
“Where are you?” he asks, voice rough.
“I don’t even really know,” I whisper as tears run down my cheeks. I glance around with blurry eyes and realize that I’m in a lingerie shop. A very high-end one that looks like somewhere Maya’s rich alpha dates would take her. “A fancy lingerie boutique a few blocks from my place.”
“I’m on my way.”