Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
I should pull away.
I should put my hands on his chest and shove him to the floor for his impropriety.
Except.
I don’t.
I should, but I don’t.
I have fantasized about my first kiss for a long time. I always assumed it would be with Sax. I couldn’t picture myself meeting anyone else and wanting to be intimate with them.
But Sax?
Yeah, I’ve had that daydream a time or two hundred.
It was the man Grant told me is actually named Derrick that I pictured, not him, but still.
My first kiss is Sax, even if he’s not what I expected.
I’m kissing Sax.
Or, a part of him. A piece of the man I have loved since before I knew what love was. I don’t know yet what piece Grant is of the Sax I have fallen for, but he is Sax.
His tongue strokes the seam of my lips, and I part them hesitantly, tripping over the movements in my inexperience. He gently probes into my mouth, his tongue sweetly stroking mine as I gasp at the sensation.
After a painfully short kiss that still manages to weaken my knees, Grant pulls his soft lips from mine and swears under his breath.
“Derrick is going to kill me.”
It takes a moment for my brain to come back online. Kissing Sax was nothing like I dreamed it would be, and yet it was everything I could have hoped for.
Until this moment.
Until I see the regret that paints over Grant’s delicate, elven features.
“Why would he kill you?” My voice is small, but at least it escapes past the lump in my throat.
“He wanted your first kiss. He’s going to be so pissed I stole it from him.”
His words crash down around me, ruining every good feeling that kiss provoked.
“Stole it from him? As if it was his to give, and not mine?”
Grant realizes his mistake, and he starts to stumble over his words. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just because you have known him the longest, and he’s the face you know, so it made the most sense…” His words trail off once he locks eyes with me.
“You all made a plan. And you deviated from it.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds kind of gross.” He ruffles the hair on the back of his head.
“It is gross. So tell me. What else is on this plan? Who is on deck to take my virginity? Just so that I don’t ruin it more than I already have.”
I’m more hurt than angry. They came onto this show, knowing they lied to me about so many things, knowing how much I didn’t want to be around Alphas, and yet they made plans about who would kiss me first?
Like it was a foregone conclusion that I was going to forgive them?
When a few moments have passed, and Grant hasn’t answered me, I deflate. My hurt and anger have given way to resignation.
“Just leave, Grant. Go.”
He shakes his head and his soft, floral scent, bitter from my rejection, almost slaps me in the face.
“No.”
“I’m not going to argue with you. Leave me alone.”
“And then what? What happens after I leave?”
“I get a moment to myself to grieve!” As soon as the words leave my lips, my chest starts to ache.
I was barely holding back before, but now that I’ve said it, my heartbreak has flooded to the forefront.
“Give me some time to fall apart. To mourn the relationship I came here expecting to find. My life has changed forever. Not only is my best friend, the man I was in love with, three men, but they’re my scent matches.
I will have to be around your pack for the rest of my life. ”
I dash the tears off my cheeks with my hands. “So, you’ll have to forgive me for wanting to fall apart on my own. The Ariana I was before I walked into this house has died, and she deserves a funeral.”
Grant’s face is stricken as he processes what I’ve said, and I don’t give him time to respond. I close myself in the en-suite bathroom, knowing that here I am free from the all-seeing eye of the producers.
I slide to the floor, my back against the door, and cry.
I cry for sixteen-year-old Ariana, who has just lost her brother.
I cry for eighteen-year-old Ariana, who realized she was in love with her best friend and never told him.
I cry for twenty-year-old Ariana, who couldn’t leave her home without extreme panic attacks.
And I cry for twenty-six-year-old Ariana, who shoved her fears down to put herself out there and meet her best friend, and found three men in his place.
I want to talk to Marlie. I wish I could tell her what has happened, curse her out for putting me on this show to begin with.
If I had my computer, I’d be searching up Forsaken Omega Syndrome, as if I haven’t read every research paper on the subject already, trying to figure out how long I have.
Until the sickness kicks in.
Until my choices are taken from me.
Can a brief exposure be enough to trigger the disease if it isn’t repeated? Could I leave now and be okay without seeing them again?
There was a small study done on people who presented with symptoms of FOS who, to their knowledge, had never met their scent matches. All of them had been on heavy suppressants for a while, though, so that was more than likely the cause of their suffering.
It’s not that FOS is always a death sentence, but it’s hard to see it as anything but after what happened to Calvin.
It can be treated with pheromone infusions from scent-matched Alphas, if they’re available.
While that may sound like an impossible task for someone who has never met their scent match or lost them, there is a pheromone donation system, similar to blood donation, that can help with some milder cases, provided they are compatible enough.
Not that they helped Calvin.
We tried everything—even experimental research trials.
None of it worked.
I never told my mom this, but he didn’t want to live anymore. He lost his entire pack. The men he loved. Why would he want to continue living without them?
He gave up on his body, so it gave up on him.
Maybe I could get the guys to regularly donate pheromones so I could get infusions without having to see them. That’s the best-case scenario at this point.
Of course, my hindbrain is reeling, telling me that they’re my Alphas, and I should give them a chance. That I already love Sax, so it would be easy to love them, too.
And maybe, if they had told me the truth over video call, I could have given them a chance. I could have at least heard them out.
But they knew my biggest fear, my deepest hurt, the event that shaped my entire life, and decided that it would be a good idea to have me face it on television. In front of however many people are on the Expected crew supervising, and the entire fucking country when this episode airs.
How can I ever forgive them for that?
There is no moving past this.
Sax knows me. Or should know me. It couldn’t be a shock to them that this has broken me.
I was holding onto the fact that I would be in Sax’s arms right now as a way of ignoring that I was being exposed to Alphas on set, that I was away from my home, from my things, my comfort, and now I don’t even get that.
I can’t let Sax hold me, because how can I be held by someone who doesn’t exist? By three men who lied to me?
How can I let myself be vulnerable to people who have heard my darkest secrets while concealing everything about themselves?
No, there is no moving past this.
I can’t afford to break the contract, so I’ll stay here for the week. I’ll stay as far away from them as I can, then we’ll go our separate ways.
And I won’t get sick.
I won’t.
I’ll reduce my contact with them so much that there will hardly be any Alpha pheromones for my body to cling to.
I’ll be okay.
I’ll be okay.
I can do this.
This won’t be the biggest mistake of my life. This won’t ruin my life.
One week won’t kill me.