Chapter 18 Savannah
SAVANNAH
Luckily Xavier and Griff weren't at home when we got back last night. It was magical in the jeep, holding each other bringing back the past. I felt as if I was twenty again.
I reach for my usual morning routine, hand automatically going to the small white pill bottle on the bathroom counter.
Three little suppressants that keep my omega biology in check, that prevent the kind of scent spikes that would broadcast every embarrassing emotion to three alphas who already know too much about what makes me tick.
But as I shake the pills into my palm, something stops me cold.
I don't need them.
Oh shit!
My hand flies to my neck, fingers finding the tender spot where Logan's teeth broke skin last night. The bite mark throbs with a gentle pulse that seems to sync with my heartbeat, and I can feel something different in my body. Something settled. Regulated.
Bonded.
"Fuck," I whisper to my reflection, which looks like someone who just realized she accidentally signed a contract in permanent ink. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
My vanilla bourbon scent, usually kept in careful check by pharmaceuticals and sheer force of will, is now naturally balanced. Stable. The way it's supposed to be when an omega is properly claimed by an alpha who actually knows what he's doing.
Which Logan apparently does. Because of course he does. Because the universe has a sick sense of humor and probably keeps a running tally of how many ways it can complicate my life in a single week.
I drop the pills back into the bottle with shaking hands.
But tomorrow morning, I'll probably reach for them anyway.
It's like how you still reach for your phone even when the battery's dead.
Muscle memory. Safety blanket. The pharmaceutical proof that I'm in control of my own body, even when I'm clearly not.
The small clicking sound they make feels like the closing of a door I hadn't meant to open. Independence, thy name was suppressants, and now I don't need them because Logan Pierce marked me like I'm his personal property.
The bite mark stares back at me in the mirror, a perfect crescent of broken skin that screams "someone's alpha has been here" to anyone with functioning eyes or a nose. It's not huge, but it might as well be a neon sign advertising exactly what happened in the back seat of that jeep.
I grab the first scarf I can find, a silk thing in deep burgundy that Emma insisted I pack "for versatility." Now, it's for hiding the evidence of questionable life choices involving the former love of my life. Or is he still the love of my life?
The black wrap dress still hangs perfectly, still makes me look like I stepped out of a magazine instead of a domestic disaster zone. But now it feels like costume armor for a role I never auditioned for. The role of Logan Pierce's claimed omega, apparently.
My reflection looks put-together on the surface, but my eyes give me away. Wide with panic and something that might be excitement if I were the type of person who made good decisions. Which, clearly, I am not.
I grab my coat, purse and phone, moving like I'm fleeing a crime scene. Which, in a way, I suppose I am. The crime scene being my common sense, which was apparently murdered sometime between Logan climbing that tree and him sinking his teeth into my neck.
The stairs creak under my feet like they're trying to announce my escape attempt to the entire household. Every sound feels amplified, every footstep a potential betrayal. If Logan is awake, if he comes downstairs, if he sees me trying to sneak out like some kind of walk-of-shame refugee...
The front door opens without incident, cold mountain air hitting my face like a slap of reality. I pull out my phone and call the one taxi service Pine Hollow has managed to maintain despite its ongoing love affair with quaint small-town charm.
"Pine Hollow Taxi, this is Danny."
I don't give a fuck who it is! I need to get out of here now.
"Hi, I need a pickup at 1247 Maple Street. As soon as possible. Like, immediately."
"Savannah? You sound a little..."
Like I need you to pick me up now!
"I'm fine. How long?"
"Five minutes. You sure you're..."
Yes!
"I'm outside waiting."
That should speed him up a bit. In fact, I'm not waiting outside.
I'm going to walk up the path so I can see him coming up the road.
The scarf feels like it's choking me, but removing it isn't an option.
Not when the alternative is explaining to the entire town why I'm sporting a fresh claiming bite from their local hero firefighter.
The taxi appears at the top of the street in less than five minutes. I nearly jump into it because I'm so panicked.
"Damn, Savannah. You have some energy today."
"Drive!" I spin my head around, thinking that I've been caught at some crime scene.
"Where to?"
"Drive!" I repeat.
"But you need to shut the car door."
I shake my head, close my eyes and think that I really need to calm the fuck down.
“Sweet Dreams.”
"That fancy place?"
"That's the one."
Now I remember why Danny used to bug me back in high school. He's nosy and annoying. He could have simply said he'd get going, but he had to add in "that fancy place." I don't care what it is, as long as it's far away from Logan.
Thank you, universe, for turning one night of passion into a biology lesson I definitely didn't sign up for.
Emma's already at Sweet Dreams when I arrive, perched at a corner table like a goddamn fairy princess in cream silk that probably costs more than my monthly coffee budget.
Everything about her screams delicate perfection, from her sleek bob that never has a single hair out of place to her tiny waist that makes me want to hide behind decorative mason jars.
"Savannah!" Emma jumps up to hug me, then immediately steps back with a frown. "What's with the scarf? It's December in Colorado, not the Arctic tundra."
"It's called fashion, Emma. Some of us like accessories," I reply.
"Bullshit. You hate scarves. You said they make you feel like you're being slowly strangled by overpriced fabric." Emma's hands are already reaching for the burgundy silk before I can stop her. "This is gorgeous though. I told you it would look perfect with that dress."
"Emma, don't…"
Too late. The scarf slides away like silk betrayal, and Emma's jasmine scent immediately spikes with shock and something that might be glee.
"Holy shit, Savannah. Is that what I think it is?" Emma asks.
My hand flies to my neck, but the damage is done. The bite mark sits there like a neon sign advertising my complete lack of self-control, and Emma's eyes have gone wide with the kind of scandalized delight that means this conversation is about to get very uncomfortable very quickly.
"It's nothing. I ran into a door," I lie.
"A door with teeth? Savannah Marie Hale, you got bitten!
" Emma grabs my arm and practically shoves me into the chair, leaning across the table with predatory curiosity.
"Tell me everything. And I mean everything.
Was it good? Please tell me it was good because you've been celibate for so long I was starting to worry about your lady parts atrophying. "
"Emma!" I protest.
"Don't 'Emma' me. You have a claiming bite on your neck from one of the Pine Hollow pack, and I want details. Specifically, I want to know if the sex was worth eight years of pining and self-imposed celibacy," Emma demands.
I glance around the bakery, noting that Beatrice Montgomery is approaching with a tray of cake samples and several other customers are within eavesdropping distance. "Can we not discuss my sex life in public?"
"Fine, but you're answering the question. Scale of one to ten, how was it?" Emma insists.
"Worth waiting eight years for," I admit quietly.
Emma's screech could probably shatter windows in three counties. "I KNEW IT! I knew something happened! You're glowing, Sav. Like, literally glowing. And your scent is all... settled. Satisfied."
"Could you announce it to the entire town, please? I don't think Mrs. Patterson heard you from her house," I mutter.
"This is huge! This changes everything! Which one was it? Logan? Griff? Please tell me it was Griff, because I owe Dax twenty bucks if it was Logan first," Emma says, practically bouncing in her seat.
"You bet on my sex life?" I ask, incredulous.
"Dax said Logan would crack first since he's been mooning over you since you got back. I said Griff because he's more impulsive. So which one marked you?" she presses.
"Logan," I mutter.
Emma throws her arms in the air and does a ridiculous little victory dance right there in her chair. I want to crawl under the table. Or maybe relocate to another state.
“I lose!” she sighs. “But it doesn’t matter. I just want you to be happy. Now we need to strategize, because this bite changes everything. You’re bonded now, Sav. That’s serious pack stuff.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, eyeing her like she’s lost her mind.
“You can’t keep running from this. You’re marked by an alpha you used to belong to, and now you’re staying in their house for another two months. That’s not a coincidence. That’s fate handing you a neon sign with flashing arrows.”
"You really are a shitty best friend, Emma," I say quietly, but there's no real heat behind it. Just emotion sitting heavy in my chest.
Emma’s grin softens. She leans forward, her voice gentler now. "I know you haven’t been happy in a long time. I thought... maybe if I brought you here, things might shift. I mean, yeah, I want my happy ending too, but more than that? I want you to get yours, Sav. I’d do anything for that."
Beatrice Montgomery chooses that moment to arrive with her tray of cake samples, her knowing smile suggesting she heard enough of our conversation to fuel gossip for months.
"Well now," Beatrice says, arranging the plates with practiced efficiency. "I was wondering when one of those boys would finally work up the courage. Logan's been pacing Main Street since you got back to town."
"Mrs. Montgomery," I start, but she waves me off.
"Honey, I've been watching pack dynamics in this town for sixty years. That bite mark says more about your future than any wedding planning ever could," Beatrice continues.
Emma practically bounces in her seat. "See? Even Mrs. Montgomery knows this is huge. So what's the plan? Are you going to talk to him? To all of them? Because this affects the whole pack dynamic."
"There is no plan. Last night was..." I search for words that won't reveal how completely Logan wrecked me in the back seat of his jeep. "It was a moment of weakness. Temporary insanity brought on by cat rescue heroics and eight years of unresolved sexual tension."
"Bullshit. That bite mark says it was a lot more than temporary insanity," Emma counters.
I touch my neck reflexively, feeling the tender skin pulse with awareness. The mark feels different in daylight, more real somehow. More permanent.
"I don't know what it means," I admit. "I panicked this morning and ran because I don't know how to face him. Or Griff and Xavier. What am I supposed to say? 'Sorry I let your pack mate mark me in a moment of passion, please pass the coffee?'"
"You could start with 'good morning' and see where it goes from there," Emma suggests.
"Emma, this is serious. I'm supposed to be here planning your wedding, not getting tangled up with my ex-boyfriends who collectively broke my heart eight years ago," I point out. “We still need a venue. And that’s one big thing, that is messing everything up at the moment. Especially because you keep adding more people to the invites.”
"Maybe it's time to find out if they're ready to put it back together," Emma says softly.
"Don't change the subject, Emma. I mean it."
"Everything will be cool. It’s all in hand. Something will happen, I know it."
She crosses her fingers, and I hope this is a joke because she needs to do a lot more than that, the way the numbers are growing.
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with a text. Logan's name on the screen makes my stomach do acrobatics that should probably require a medical evaluation.
Logan: We need to talk. All of us. When you're ready.
Emma peers over my shoulder and grins. "Well, looks like the universe just made your decision for you."
Thank you, universe, for turning a simple cake tasting into a life-altering conversation about pack dynamics and my completely nonexistent ability to make rational decisions about men who bite first and ask questions later.