Chapter 15
Elliot
I’m halfway through the Monday meeting with my lab managers when Ms. Peters bursts into my office. She’s flustered in a way I’ve never seen from Gabriel’s usually unflappable secretary.
“Dr. Stanton, I’m so sorry. Your housekeeper left the message on Mr. Stanton’s private line first, and I just found it when checking his messages. You see, he’s at the architect’s office in—”
“What message?”
“Miss Carmichael called this morning. Hours ago. She said she needed help. According to the housekeeper, she sounded…distressed.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises. “Define hours ago.”
“Around nine.” She wrings her hands. “I only found it at two when—”
Seven pairs of eyes are on me, but I’m already moving, grabbing my jacket. “Call Tanner and Leo. Tell them to meet me at Waffles.”
My own assistant speaks up. “But sir, your three o’clock—”
“Cancel everything.”
The drive is a few minutes but feels like forever, even with my lead foot. Kimmie wouldn’t ask for help. She’s too proud, too independent. If she’s reaching out…and to us of all people. It must be bad.
Tanner is parking his motorcycle in front of the restaurant when I arrive, and Leo’s pulling up in his Range Rover. The “CLOSED” sign hangs in the window since lunch service is already over.
“You smell that?” Tanner asks as we approach the side entrance leading up the stairway to her apartment.
I do. Something sweet and warm, like freshly baked confections. But there’s more. Whatever it is makes my mouth water and my hands clench.
“Maybe someone’s baking?” Leo suggests, but his voice is rough. “But they’re already closed…”
Tanner shakes his head. “This is different. More…fuck, I don’t know. But it’s doing something to my head.”
We don’t bother talking about it further. Instead, we take the stairs two at a time, jostling each other for position. The scent gets stronger with each step until my head swims with it. When we reach her door, I have to grip the doorframe to steady myself.
“Kimmie?” Tanner’s voice is gentle despite his white knuckled grip on the railing. “It’s us. Can we come in?”
A whimper comes from inside, followed by rustling. “Go away.”
“You called for help,” Leo reminds her.
“That was before—” Her voice breaks. “I can’t…you should leave. Please.”
I press my forehead against the door, breathing through my mouth to maintain some semblance of control. There’s something familiar about this scent. It’s tugging at my memory…or my instincts, but I can’t think straight enough to analyze it. “We’re not leaving until we know you’re okay.”
“I have…medication.”
“Like hell you’re handling whatever this is alone,” Tanner growls.
Silence. Then, quietly, “The door’s unlocked.”
We exchange glances. This is crossing a line. Gabriel will be furious. But, as Tanner would say, who gives a shit?
The apartment looks like a luxury catalog exploded. Plush throws are artfully arranged over furniture that looks brand new. Candles fill every surface, their flames making the space glow. And in the middle of it all is Kimmie, curled into a ball on a velvet couch.
She looks up at us with feverish eyes. Her curls are a wild tangle around her flushed face. She’s wearing terrycloth shorts and an oversized t-shirt that’s damp with sweat, and—
The scent hits me full force, and suddenly I understand. My brain catches up with my body’s reaction, with the way my alpha instincts have been screaming since we drove up.
“Oh shit,” Leo breathes. “She’s…”
“Omega,” Tanner finishes. “How…?”
“The flu.” The scientist in me finally makes the connection. “Dr. Hilliard said it was variant 469-O. The one that can trigger…” I trail off as Kimmie makes a small, desperate sound.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she whispers.
“The omega flu isn’t known for asking permission.” I approach slowly, hands raised like I’m dealing with a spooked animal. “Can I touch you?”
She nods. When I touch her forehead, we both gasp. Her skin burns against my palm. The omega scent surges, and she whimpers.
“You’re burning up.” I force myself to focus on medical facts instead of the way she’s looking at me. “You said you’d taken medicine?”
Her eyes dart between us. “Dr. Hilliard gave them to me. Birth control, some sedatives—b-but they’re not doing much.”
“What else can we do?” Tanner’s voice has dropped an octave. He’s hanging back, probably aware his size might be intimidating right now. Maybe just trying to control himself. God knows it’s hard enough for me with the sight and smell of Kimmie in heat.
She makes a sound that’s half laugh, half sob. “I don’t know why I called. You should go. I can handle this by myself.”
“You don’t have to.” Leo moves closer. “We want to help.”
“Why?” Her eyes are glassy but sharp. “You’re trying to destroy my restaurant.”
“Gabriel’s changing the plans,” I say. “We want to court you. All of us. We had planned to come ask you when he had them in hand.”
Her laugh this time is definitely hysterical. “Court me? I’m a waffle cook!”
“You’re perfect.” Tanner toward her, then stops when she tenses. “And what’s happening to you doesn’t change that.”
Another wave must hit because she curls into a fetal position, face contorting. The omega scent spikes, and all three of us move instinctively closer.
“Let us help,” Leo pleads. “Even if it’s just holding you through it.”
She looks up at him with liquid copper eyes. “Gabriel—”
“Will get over it. Or he won’t.” I kneel beside the couch, close enough to touch but not touching. “This is about what you need.”
She looks at each of us, and I see the moment her resistance weakens. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispers.
“You’re not.” Tanner’s voice is fierce. “You won’t be.”
“But I don’t know how to…I’ve never…”
“We’ll figure it out together.” Leo sits next to her. “May I touch your hair?”
She nods. When his fingers soothingly run over her tangled strands, she makes a sound that shoots straight to my groin. Her scent changes, growing sweeter, headier.
“What do you need?” I ask, though my body is already telling me. The omega scent is unmistakable now.
“I don’t know.” But her body does. She’s starting to squirm, pressing her thighs together. “Everything hurts.”
“Can I hold you?” Tanner asks. When she nods, he scoops her up like she weighs nothing and settles her back against his chest.
“You smell so…,” she mumbles. “All of you. Like…like…”
“Like we’re yours?” Leo suggests softly.
She studies us with those liquid brown eyes, and I see the moment she accepts it. Accepts us.
“Stay,” she whispers. “Please stay.”