Chapter 23
chapter
twenty-three
“What are you doing here?”
Great question, Professor.
I don’t know what I’m doing or why—I’m too busy trying not to throw up on your Oxfords.
This is not the first impression I wanted to make with the alpha Jonah described as “the most particular.”
For one, I’m still in this stupid bodysuit and Avery’s hoodie because there are no clothes in my room that fit me. I suspect the joggers and athletic shorts folded on the suite’s dresser are intended to get me through the day, but they’re all so large, they immediately fall off my body when I try to wear them.
I ditched my fishnets last night, but at the moment, that feels like a mistake. Sure, they didn’t exactly cover me. But having bare legs while I stand here, invading these alpha’s private spaces, somehow feels worse.
Silly little slut.
What was I thinking?
Spencer awaits an answer to that very question, raising one of his silvery-blond brows in a stern arch. It pairs nicely with the hard set of his chiseled lips and the sharp cut of his ticking jaw.
I try to tell him that Jonah left me a note, but my voice suddenly cuts off as my Omega snatches the controls from me.
His rain-soaked scent simmers, turning darker and more electric. It’s difficult to process what, exactly, he smells like. Lightning. O-zone. The way the air cracks when static splits it. Either way, it tingles in my nose, and my body reacts, releasing an embarrassing tidal wave of perfume while my entire core contracts.
Spencer’s features look just like Tristan’s—straight and aristocratic, if more severe. And more beautiful, too. His nostrils flare, inhaling me. A low, rumbling growl starts in his chest.
I flinch, my head turning to hide against my shoulder and the black hoodie bunched there. My body folds in on itself, cowering against the wall I’m using to keep myself upright.
But he doesn’t come at me.
Instead, he takes a measured step backward and locks every muscle into utter stillness. Until only the hard bulge at the back of his jaw twinges.
“I will not touch you.”
The way he snaps the words makes me peek at him. It sounds less like he’s trying to convince me and more like he’s reminding himself . Those dark eyes—a bottomless brown instead of Tristan’s deep blue—snap down my body and back up again. They zero in on the piece of paper crumpled in my left hand.
Since I can’t find my words, I force my arm to jerk out straight, offering him the note I found next to my bedroom door when I woke up.
There’s no doubt it was Jonah who slid the paper under the crack. His haphazard handwriting and crude drawings made me smile when I first saw them.
It’s a map. Their whole townhouse, laid out and labeled, with a dotted line for me to follow up to Avery’s room and a note reminding me that Jonah would be home at three.
Spencer studies the page, his shoulders unwinding a fraction. “I see.” He pins me in place with his dark eyes, brows crouching low. “You came up to find Avery?”
I try to force a swallow, but I feel like I might gag. Instead, I settle for a lightheaded nod. Spencer’s frown deepens.
“He typically sleeps well past noon.” The alpha’s tone is brusque, but matter-of-fact. His eyes skate over me again, a hint of uncertainty flaring in their depths. “Did you… need something?”
Can I admit the shameful fact that my body is wired and the only thing I can think of to quiet my mind is Avery’s cool eyes and inked fingers?
I really don’t think I can.
But, again, my Omega seems to have other ideas. She peers out of her hiding place, eyes wide on Spencer’s handsome face.
And a new gulf of perfume pours out of me. Along with enough slick for all four of these alphas.
Plus maybe like three of their friends, too.
Such a silly little slut.
Spencer looks like he would agree with Wally. His scowl pulls into a snarl. “ Miss Swanson .”
It isn’t a sexy snarl. Not a Serena-what-are-you-doing-to-me-you-gorgeous-creature sort of snarl. It’s pained .
Pissed.
Appalled .
I don’t blame him. I’m appalled .
Stupid, weird, silent Omega . It’s like she wants him to bite us, too.
Panic joins the tingly flood of heat in my middle. That gelling, jittery warmth settles between my hips once again. A sharp stab—more painful than any arousal I’ve ever experienced—impales my pussy.
I whine, the loud sound shattering the tension pulled taut between us. Spencer starts to lurch toward me, but he catches himself, backing off immediately.
“Your perfume,” he husks, teeth grinding. “It’s different. Stronger. Do you feel dizzy? Or warm?”
Warm and dizzy would be a blessing. At the moment, I feel hot. And delirious .
When I try to open my mouth to explain why my entire body is suddenly shaking violently, another pitiful whine escapes. Spencer growls out loud this time, fisting his hands at his sides.
A bark snaps out of him. “ Omega. Focus .”
An answering fission of fear cracks through my chest, but my eyes fly to his automatically.
“Focus on me,” he orders, quieter. “Nod your head—are you hot?”
Will he be angry at me? What’s happening ? Whimpering and shrinking down, I squeeze my eyes shut and nod.
But he only hums, clipping over another question. “Dizzy?”
I try to nod again, but it feels more like a loll. My eyes blink open, finding Spencer closer than before. His voice softens into a rasp. “You’re having a heat-spike,” he murmurs. “You need?—”
An alpha.
He doesn’t say the words, but I already know. The second he said heat, I knew. That’s what this is—this familiar feeling that I’ve done everything in my power to block out.
Only, it’s somehow worse than usual? Dr. Monroe tried to warn me; he said my heat symptoms would be “exaggerated” now that I’ve been claimed. I didn’t believe him, only because it didn’t seem possible for heats to be worse than the ones I’m used to .
Spencer frantically flicks his gaze over me like I’m a bomb that’s about to go off. One that he knows how to diffuse—he keeps looking at the place where Avery’s hoodie skims the tops of my thighs—but, for some reason, he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want me .
Instead of coming closer, he backs off again. His throat works on a swallow as my vision blurs, giving him two extremely pissed-off faces.
For a moment, everything wobbles and wavers. Then, a sharp slice of pain stabs my empty insides. I whimper, doubling over.
The strange, stern alpha mutters, “ Goddamn fucking hell .”
And then he lunges for me.