Chapter 52 Mirabelle
Mirabelle
Something is wrong.
Very wrong.
I thought the feeling I was having in my lower belly would go away after Rage and I were together, but it’s honestly only gotten worse over the past few days.
I’m curled up in the massive bed, practically buried by the blankets, but I still feel cold. My skin is starting to buzz and anything other than the softest fabrics drives me insane.
“Hey, Sweetheart, Ash and I are going to go to our fight now,” Griffin murmurs from beside the bed.
I peek my head out and flash the two of them a smile. “Okay! Good luck. I’m sorry I’m not feeling well.”
“It’s okay,” Griffin reassures. “We’ll still put on a good show without you watching.”
“You probably got sick from being around all those fuckin’ people at the last fight,” Ash says, before climbing into the bed and pressing his lips against mine in a quick kiss.
“Then you shouldn’t be kissing me!” I gasp.
“You’d have to be puking your guts out for me to not want to kiss you,” Ash says, letting out a small chuckle. “You look tired, Shortcake. Get some rest.”
I curl back into the blankets, tugging them over my head and enveloping myself in a cocoon. I don’t know why I’m so tired. I’ve been sleeping a lot, but it never seems to be enough.
I don’t know how long I’m asleep for, but when I wake up, it’s almost like I’m underwater.
“Holy shit, did you guys hear that?” Rowan asks.
“Turn it up,” Rage growls, his voice low.
“The Northside Police are asking for the public’s help in locating a missing omega. She’s described to be in her early twenties with red hair, green eyes, and a strawberry scent. Anyone with information is urged to contact the Omega Center or the police non-emergency tip line.”
“Holy fucking shit,” Rowan mutters. “They’re looking for her? How? Why?”
Rage lets out a snarl.
“They were doing raids on the facilities that kept omegas like her,” Rowan suggests. “Maybe they got details from the other omegas there?”
“I don’t like it,” Rage mutters.
“Mira, did you hear that?” Rowan asks softly. I feel the mattress dip beside me as Rowan peels back the layers and layers of blankets I’m curled under.
“Holy shit, you’re burning up!” He says.
I blink my eyes open, wincing at the overhead lights hitting my face. It almost feels like my eyelids themselves are swollen and hot.
“Fuck, something’s wrong.”
“What?” Rage asks, climbing into the bed on my other side.
“It... hurts...” I croak out, my mouth dry.
“What hurts, Sugar?” Rowan asks, peeling back the cocoon of blankets.
A whimper leaves my throat as the cold air hits my skin. I’m freezing.
“Shit, she’s shivering,” Rowan curses.
Rage lifts me into his arms, pulling me into his chest.
“Your scent,” he growls, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
There’s something wrong with my perfume. It’s twisted and almost artificially sweet.
It makes my pulse race.
Because it reminds me of when Jett drugged me and forced me to go through the heat from hell.
Rowan stiffens beside me.
“Fuck, I think this is her heat, Rage. But it’s too soon! Heats are supposed to happen every three to four months, right?”
“It’s my heat?” I whimper, clinging to Rage as a wave of fear threatens to overwhelm me.
My scent turns so sour that I wouldn’t be surprised if it made their eyes water.
“Don’t worry, Mira,” Rowan says, reaching out and trying to brush some of my sweaty hair from my face. “We’ll figure this out.”
He tries to send a wave of reassurance through our bond, but it’s weak. Almost like he’s trying to send the feeling through mud.
Rowan’s phone starts ringing, the shrill noise making me wince.
Rage lets out a warning growl, grabbing my favorite blanket and wrapping it around my shivering shoulders.
“Sorry,” Rowan says, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “It’s Griffin.”
“Is he okay?” I whisper, my voice raspy.
“We’ll see,” Rowan mutters.
Rage shifts and grabs a bottle of water from the nightstand, opening it and pressing it to my lips. I gulp from it greedily as Rowan answers the call and puts it on speakerphone.
“What’s wrong?” Griffin asks through the phone. “I can feel something’s up through the bond.”
“We think... we think Mira’s going into heat.”
There’s some commotion on the other end of the line, like someone is wrestling the phone away from Griffin.
“The fuck?” Ash hisses.
“She was fine a few hours ago! Don’t omegas have heat spikes or something before their actual heat?” Griffin asks.
“I don’t know,” Rowan says with a shake of his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. But I do know it’s not a normal kinda heat, considering she just finished that fucked up one maybe a month and a half ago.”
“Yeah, that’s too soon,” Griffin mutters.
“Is she there?” Ash snaps. “Put her on the line.”
Rowan holds the phone out closer to me.
“I’m here,” I rasp.
“How’re you doing, Sweetheart?” Griffin says.
“What kinda fuck-ass question is that?” Ash huffs. “She probably feels like shit.”
“Yeah, I—I don’t feel great, right now,” I say. “Please—please, when are you getting back?”
My voice is small and shaky. The question floats through the air, like a delicate moth with a broken wing.
I don’t think I can take it if I don’t have them with me soon.
“We’ll head back right the fuck now,” Ash growls.
“Are you sure?” I whimper, curling into Rage’s lap.
“Of course, Sweetheart,” Griffin murmurs. “We’re heading out right now. We’ve already won the first round.”
“Screw this fighting ring, you’re more important, Shortcake,” Ash adds. “You two better take care of her while we head back. We’ll be there soon.”
His voice is decidedly more harsh when addressing Rowan and Rage, but I don’t have the energy to correct him and encourage him to be kinder.
“Of course,” Rowan answers, running a shaking hand through his hair.
“You’ve done this before, kid,” Griffin says over the line. “You’ve got this.”
There’s a slam of a car door in the background of the call. The noise makes a sigh of relief leave my lips.
I reach out towards Rowan, wiggling my arms from out of the blanket cocoon I’m wrapped in.
“Please, Rowan, it hurts,” I whine.
“What the fuck’re you still doing on the call? Go help her!” Ash snarls before he hangs up and the line goes dead.
Rowan quickly chucks his phone to the foot of the bed, crawling closer to me.
“Okay,” Rowan says, taking a deep breath. “We’re gonna take care of you, Sugar, you won’t have anything to worry about.”
“What... do we do?” Rage growls, tugging me into his arms and burying his face in the crook of his neck.
“Well, last time, a bond mark bite worked, so I assume that’s what we try this time.”
Rage lets out a satisfied growl, his large hands spanning across my hips.
Rowan leans down and brushes his lips against mine, his hands drifting to the hem of my t-shirt and lifting it up.
“Clothes off?” He murmurs against my lips.
“Please,” I whimper. Anything against my skin grates against me like sandpaper.
“You poor thing,” he murmurs, rubbing his chest as if he can feel an ache there. “We’ll fix this.”
“Will—will my heats always be like this?” I gasp, a hand drifting between my legs and grinding against my slick soaked, throbbing flesh. My entire body is starting to ache, but especially there. “It—it kind of sucks.”
Rowan flashes me a sad smile.
“It shouldn’t feel like this, no. I don’t know why your heats have been so messed up.”
My lower lip wobbles and tears sting at the backs of my eyes. I don’t know whether it’s the hormones flooding my system or something, but I feel so terribly overwhelmed with everything.
“Stop it,” Rage snarls. “You’re... upsetting her.”
“Sorry, Sugar. Rage is right. We’ve gotta keep you calm and comfortable.”
I can feel Rage harden through his sweatpants. The memories of his massive knot inside me the other day has slick gushing from me, leaving a stain on the gray fabric.
“Mine,” Rage growls, moving my hand that’s between my legs and replacing it with his own. I arch into his touch.
“Please—“
“We’ll make you feel good, Sugar,” Rowan murmurs, dancing kisses along my shoulder. “We’ll fix this. What do you want?”
“You. Inside. Now.” With a groan, I flip my aching body so I’m resting my arms on Rage’s massive, spread thighs. His sweatpants do nothing to hide the outline of his cock in the fabric. The sight makes my mouth water.
Oh wow, that’s new.
Even though the majority of my last heat was a blur, I remember the biggest urge was for a knot.
But now? I want to know the feel of Rage’s massive cock against my tongue.
“You don’t need to ask me twice,” Rowan groans. His clothes are flung onto the floor and I feel his trim hips pressed up against the back of mine.
His hands massage the flesh of my ass as he runs the head of his cock up and down my slick soaked folds.
“Please,” I whine, my head collapsing down onto Rage’s thigh. The flesh underneath my cheek throbs. It’s only then that I realize there’s only one layer of fabric separating his cock from my face.
With that obvious of an outline, he’s definitely not wearing boxers. And I certainly don’t blame him.
I blink up at Rage, trying to get my eyes to focus through the haze.
His eyes are wide, a storm of emotions swirling within their depths. Confusion. Hope. And a whole boatload of lust.
“We’re going to take care of you,” Rowan groans, letting out a soft curse as he lubes up his shaft with my slick, dragging his hand up and down his cock. “Are you—are you sure you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes,” I say, flicking my hair over my shoulder as I turn to meet Rowan’s gaze. The auburn strands fall in a waterfall down my back and side, accentuating my arch.
“If you need a knot—”
“I need you.” I’ve never been more certain about anything. I think my tone conveys that, if the spark I see in Rowan’s eyes is any indication.
His hands reach down and grip my hips. The touch builds delicious anticipation low in my gut.