Chapter 28
Boone
Twenty Minutes Earlier
Traffic is crawling like a wounded animal, every red brake light in front of me another knife in my gut. My hands are gripping the wheel too tight, knuckles pale against the leather, pulse racing like I can will the line of cars to move faster.
She needs me. I left her, and I’ve regretted it every mile since. I tried calling her back but the network coverage is horrid.
I can’t believe she is in heat and all alone.
Up ahead, I spot Elias straddling his motorbike at the shoulder, helmet tucked under one arm. I slam the truck into park and I’m out before I think.
“Elias,” I bark, running toward him, chest heaving. “Trade me. Please. Take my truck, I’ll take the bike.”
He blinks at me, startled. “Boone—what the hell—”
“Please,” I cut him off, desperation cracking through my voice. “I need to get home. I need to get to Sadie.”
Something in my face convinces him. He tosses me the keys without another word, and in seconds I’m straddling the bike, engine snarling to life beneath me.
The air is a whip against my face as I weave through the standstill traffic, heart hammering harder with every mile closer to the apartment building,
By the time I skid into the parking lot, I’m shaking with adrenaline. I take the stairs two at a time, lungs burning.
And then—
The door cracks open, and the smell slams me.
Not just Sadie. Not just her sweet, citrus-threaded paint scent that’s been driving me half mad since the day she landed in this town. No. This is heavier. Richer. The unmistakable musk of sex, laced thick into the air like it’s seeped into the walls.
My chest seizes.
I push the door open harder, my boots hitting the floor like thunder.
And there he is.
Gabe.
On the couch.
Hand wrapped around his cock, stroking hard, chest heaving like an animal caught in the act.
The world narrows to a pinpoint of red.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I roar.
His head snaps up, eyes wide, hand freezing mid-stroke. Shame flashes across his face before he masks it, jaw clenching.
“Boone—”
I don’t let him finish. I lunge, fist flying, and the crack of my knuckles against his jaw is the sweetest, ugliest sound I’ve ever heard. He grunts, staggers, then swings back, his punch slamming into my ribs hard enough to knock the breath from me.
“You fucked her?”
“I didn’t,” he replies, quickly getting dressed.
“You sick bastard,” I snarl, shoving him into the wall, plaster cracking behind his shoulders. “She’s in heat and you’re getting yourself off in the next fucking room?”
“She needed help,” Gabe snaps, shoving me back. His eyes are wild, feral. “You weren’t here. You left her. What the hell did you expect me to do?”
“Not that!” I bellow, fists slamming into his chest again. “You don’t touch her. You don’t even fucking think about her like that. She’s mine!”
“She’s not yours,” he fires back, rage twisting his features. “She’s not anyone’s. She’s hers. You think your claim means shit when she’s falling apart in front of us?”
We crash into the coffee table, wood splintering under our weight. Gus is barking, frantic, nails scrabbling against the floorboards as he circles us. Shepard’s voice cuts through the haze, panicked.
“Stop! Both of you—stop this now!”
Neither of us listens.
I’ve got Gabe by the collar, hauling him up, ready to drive my fist into his face again when the softest voice slices through the chaos.
“What’s going on?”
Everything stops.
I whip my head toward the bedroom doorway.
Sadie.
She’s standing there wrapped in a sheet, hair tangled and damp, eyes glassy and wide. The fabric clings to her curves, slipping at her shoulder. She looks small, fragile, but her scent hits me like a freight train—sweet and sharp, laced with the unmistakable pulse of heat.
I drop Gabe like he’s nothing and stumble toward her. “Are you okay?” My hands hover at her arms, not touching, terrified to spook her.
She nods, but her voice trembles. “I… I don’t know.”
Behind me, Gabe mutters, “I should go.”
“No,” Shepard says quickly, stepping between us. “Wait. Don’t—”
“Can we all just… talk?” Sadie’s voice cracks, pleading. Her gray-blue eyes dart between the three of us, desperate, vulnerable. “Please.”
The silence that follows is brutal.
Finally, I swallow hard and force the words out. “You should get dressed. We’ll go up to my place. You’ll be safer there.”
Her shoulders sag in relief. She nods. “Okay.”
She disappears into the bedroom, sheet trailing behind her, and the second she’s out of sight, I round on Gabe again. “You crossed a line. Don’t think I didn’t see it. You took advantage—”
“I didn’t,” he cuts me off, voice sharp, jaw tight. “You think I wanted that? You think this isn’t tearing me in half?”
I shove a hand through my hair, fighting the urge to swing again. “I don’t care. You should’ve stopped it.”
“She begged,” Gabe growls, low, dark. “She begged, Boone. And you weren’t here.”
“Enough,” Shepard snaps, voice like a whip. His eyes are hard behind his glasses. “Not in front of her. Not now.”
I turn away, chest heaving, rage boiling under my skin. He’s right. This isn’t the time. But Christ, it’s all I can do not to tear the room apart.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door creaks.
Sadie steps back out, swallowed in one of Shepard’s T-shirts, the hem brushing her thighs. Her bare legs make my throat close. She’s holding her arms tight around herself, cheeks flushed.
“I can’t find my clothes,” she says softly.
Shepard offers a gentle smile. “It’s okay. Wear mine for now.”
She crosses to him, hugging him tight. My stomach twists as I watch her bury her face against his chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
Shepard cups the back of her head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Her eyes lift to me, searching. “Do I have everything I need?”
I clear my throat, forcing myself to soften. “Yeah. Let’s go upstairs.”
She nods, and in that moment I know nothing will ever be the same.
Not after this.
“Bye, Gabe,” she says softly, her voice frayed but steady enough to cut through the silence.
I don’t say anything. I don’t even look back. I keep my hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the hallway and up the steps, every muscle in me buzzing with tension. My jaw is clenched so tight it aches.
By the time I shove the key into the lock and get the door open, my pulse is pounding in my throat. She walks in ahead of me, bare legs flashing under Shepard’s oversized T-shirt.
The scent of her heat follows her like a cloud, wrapping around me, needling at every raw edge I’ve been holding together since I first heard Scott’s name.
The door clicks shut behind us, and finally, it’s just the two of us. No Gabe. No Shepard. No excuses.
I study her. Really look.
Her lips are swollen. Bruised from kissing. And I don’t need to ask whose mouth left them that way—I can smell it on her. Gabe. Shepard. Their scent is threaded in with hers, marking her skin like fingerprints I can’t scrub off.
My gut twists.
She lifts her chin, meeting my stare. Gray-blue eyes stormy, unflinching. “Say something, Boone.”
I drag in a breath, but it sticks. My throat is thick with words I can’t force out.
I don’t even know which truth to start with—the jealousy burning a hole through my chest, the hunger that’s been eating me alive since she walked into my life, or the bone-deep fury that I wasn’t here when she needed me.
“I don’t know what to say.” My voice is rough, low, breaking at the edges.
She swallows. Her fingers twitch at her sides like she’s holding herself together by sheer force. “I asked them. It was me. I begged them for help.”
Her words lance through me, sharper than a blade.
My chest tightens, breath sawing in and out. “Do you want them?” The question scrapes out of me before I can stop it, raw and bitter.
Her eyes flicker. She steps closer, until her hand brushes against my wrist. The heat of her skin is a brand. “I want you.”
But the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen.
“You didn’t answer me,” I say.
Her hands lift, burying into her hair. She looks wrecked—flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, damp strands clinging to her temples.
“Boone, I’m an Omega. I’m in heat. I’m needy, and I’ve been shared before. You know the question isn’t fair.”
“Do you want them?” I repeat, every syllable a nail driven into me.
Her lips part. The pause is brutal. “Maybe.”
The word is quiet. Small. But it detonates in my chest like dynamite.
I stagger back a step, raking a hand through my hair. Jealousy claws up my throat, hot and sour. I’ve never shared a woman in my life. Not once. Not in high school, not in college, not in the years since. I’ve never had to. Because when I’m with someone, she’s mine.
And now—Sadie. This Omega with pink-streaked hair and storm eyes. This woman who makes me want things I’ve never dared to want. She’s standing here telling me she might want more than me.
The thought guts me.
I grip the wall behind me, trying to ground myself, but my body doesn’t care about reason or fairness. All it cares about is her. Her scent. Her heat. The way her pupils are blown wide, her chest rising and falling too fast.
“I can’t—” I choke on the words, shaking my head. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Her fingers catch mine, tugging, anchoring. “Then don’t think. Just… be here. With me.”
It breaks me.
I grab her, yanking her flush against me, my mouth crashing down on hers. The kiss is brutal, teeth and tongue and desperation. She moans into me, and the sound tears through my restraint like paper.
I spin her, pinning her against the wall. The picture frame rattles. My hands are everywhere at once—cupping her jaw, sliding under Shepard’s T-shirt, gripping her bare hip. Her skin is hot, fevered, searing me through my palms.
“Fuck,” I mutter against her lips, biting back the words I want to say.
Mine. You’re mine.
The claim burns on my tongue, but I swallow it down, hard enough to hurt. Because it’s not true. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Her nails rake down my back as I shove the shirt up, baring her breasts. Her nipples are tight peaks, flushed and aching, and I lower my head, sucking one into my mouth. She gasps, arching against me.
“Boone—” Her voice is wrecked, needy, and it undoes me.
I drag her leg up around my hip, grinding against her slick heat through the thin cotton of my pants. The scent of her arousal is thick, clinging, making my cock throb so hard it’s painful.
“I shouldn’t—” My forehead presses to hers, breath ragged. “But I can’t stop.”
“Don’t stop,” she whispers, desperate. “Please, don’t stop.”
That’s all it takes.
I yank my belt open, shove my pants down just enough, and fist my cock, lining up with her drenched slit. She’s soaked, slick coating my length before I even push in.
And then—I do.
I thrust up into her, hard, burying myself to the hilt. She cries out, head falling back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut.
“Jesus Christ,” I grit out, every muscle in me trembling. She’s tight, wet, gripping me like she was made for me.
I fuck her against the wall, each thrust driving her higher, the sound of her breathless moans mixing with the slap of skin. My teeth sink into my tongue, holding back the claim that wants to rip free.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Her hands claw at my shoulders, her legs tight around my waist. “Yes, Boone. Yes—”
I pound into her harder, jaw locked, sweat dripping down my temple. The picture frame finally falls, crashing to the floor, but I don’t stop. Can’t stop.
Her nails dig in, her body bowing against me. She’s trembling, clenching, so close I can feel it in the way her cunt flutters around my cock.
“Come for me,” I growl against her throat. “Come, Sadie.”
Her cry tears through the room, raw and broken, as she shatters around me. Her body convulses, her slick drenching me, her walls gripping tight as her orgasm rips her apart.
I slam into her once, twice more before the dam inside me breaks. I curse, groaning against her neck as I spill deep, filling her with hot, pulsing release.
There’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breaths, the scent of sex and sweat, the weight of her body clinging to mine.
And then reality crashes back in.
She’s still in heat. I can smell it, taste it. She’s still vulnerable, still marked with other men’s scents, and I’m standing here shaking with jealousy and relief all at once.
I hold her tighter, pressing my forehead to hers, forcing my voice steady. “I don’t know how to share you.”
Her fingers brush my jaw, soft even as she trembles. “Then don’t think about tomorrow. Just… be here with me now.”
And I do. God help me, I do.