Chapter 13
chapter
thirteen
Listen, I might be clueless, but I’m not stupid .
And when the nice doctor tells me that I can either wait at the police station while they “sort me out” or “go home with the Thorne Pack”…
Well .
Is it even really a choice?
If all of Wally’s jeers over the years are every bit as true as I feared, the only reason he isn’t already here is…
Him .
Tristan.
I’ m not sure how he’s managed to run this place so smoothly, but it seems like every time he says “jump,” people pull out their pogo sticks.
The doctor—Dr. Monroe—sees me blinking at the outline of the suited alpha through the door’s window and offers me a small smile. “Senator Thorne is a very nice alpha. I think, if you were to decide to give him a chance, you might be pleasantly surprised.”
Senator Thorne .
The name sounds familiar, but I’d have to borrow someone’s phone to look up why. Dr. Monroe also told me that the one with the white-blond hair who won’t stop glaring at me is Tristan’s brother, Spencer. He’s a professor, I guess.
A professor is one thing, but a senator ? And two pro-athletes?
Their pack is famous.
Highly inconvenient, given I’m an urchin.
I’m still inclined to believe the doctor, though. He’s been really nice so far, and since I can currently feel everything Tristan feels, I know he’s horrified by what just happened.
His scent has burned to ash . Every time a twinge of panic shudders through me, he flinches. And the emotions rolling through his side of this flimsy, pinched bond are… desolate .
He hates himself for doing this.
Is it because of what he’s done? Or who he did it to?
I’ve spent my whole life around alphas, so I know exactly how all of them think. And this? This should be my fault. For not covering my body, properly de-scenting, and keeping my guard up. For ever perfuming at all.
So, it’s hard for me to believe he’d feel like this because he bit me.
But maybe because he bit me .
After all, I can’t think of a less-suitable match for someone in the public eye than… whatever I am.
Oblivious to the terrible tangle inside of me, Avery and Jonah stand by my side, getting more agitated by the second. It takes me a moment to realize it’s my fault—I’m filling this place with my distressed scent, the one that makes the alphas at the club so wild.
These guys only seem angry, though. They each direct a pointed look at the blond man sneering at me.
Jonah’s big hand hesitates before it cups my shoulder, squeezing gently. “Don’t mind Spencer,” he murmurs. “We’ll talk to him.”
Tristan seems a bit beyond talking. He interrupts whatever his brother is muttering. The pack alpha’s bark is quiet but hard as diamond. “ Enough .”
I wish I could say that that burst of alpha dominance scared me as much as the thought of four grown men fighting because of me… but instead, a humiliating burst of wetness seeps out of my core, along with a wave of fresh, true perfume.
Behind me, Jonah grunts like a cannonball has just collided with his stomach. Avery bites out a vicious curse, sinking his teeth into his fist as he spins away.
I hang my head and manage to force one word around the lump in my throat. “S-sorry”
Such a sorry little slut, perfuming all the damn time. You must love these alphas all over you. Bet you’re slick for them, too.
Wally’s voice prickles down my spine as Dr. Monroe offers me a kind look, conspicuously devoid of any judgment or second-hand embarrassment.
“That will happen,” he informs, calm and collected. “Now that Tristan is your alpha, his barks may have that effect. In fact, you will generally experience more potent physical cravings and heat-spikes because of the half-bond. It’s natural. Nothing to be ashamed of. But it’s also no reason for you ever to feel pressured into anything. Ultimately, you’ll have to decide what feels best for you.”
He really is nice. Whoever bonded him knew what was up. Unlike my looney Omega, who clearly wants us to get ripped to shreds like beef jerky.
I can tell the second my fresh perfume slips under the door, because the Thorne brothers are suddenly very quiet. Avery turns back to me, jaw flexing, eyes wild.
And I should be afraid. That would make sense .
But the second we look at one another, I just feel my nipples pebble harder.
He cuts a clean path to the table, going back to his knees and cupping his rough palms over my fishnet-covered knees. “You don’t have to come with us,” he growls, low and fervent. “Fuck those assholes. I’ll wrestle them out of here right now.”
I try to picture that—Avery, rolling Tristan and Spencer out of here. The image is almost enough to make me huff a laugh, but then I remember: If they go without me, I’ll have to wait here for Wally. Or take my chances on the streets.
A frantic whine whips up my throat before I can stop it. Avery’s beatific face creases. His fingers twitch against the sensitive skin on the insides of my knees.
“Okay, kitten, we won’t leave without you,” he husks. “You sure you want to hitch your wagon to all this crazy?”
My Omega is numbly terrified, half-gripping my reins in a frozen fist. She can’t speak or think or really even breathe. Nothing scares her like Wally does. She wants me to get the hell out of here and hide where he’ll never think to look for us.
I wish I could reason with her.
Then again, how would I do that? I know, logically, that I should be safe at a police station, but…
Well, I wasn’t, was I?
Being here didn’t stop an alpha— Tristan ; and, no, we are not thinking about how hot that name is—from taking what he wanted from me.
Who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? These guys are still oozing pheromones, but at least they’ve been shot up with God-knows-how-many rut-blockers. Any other alpha who walks in here won’t be as safe as these four.
And, Lord, what would Wally do with me now that he wouldn’t have to worry about making sure no one bites me ?
I look into Avery's eyes and try to breathe. It’s hard, and I don’t quite manage it—but the baby blue streaks carved into the ice of his irises help my lungs expand a tiny bit.
I nod. My hand falls on his, squeezing.
Please don’t throw me to the wolves, dude .
His gaze glints, understanding. “I’ll be there,” he vows, answering the question I couldn’t scrape out. “No one will touch you.” He looks down at his own hands and gives me that one-quarter-smirk. “Much.”