7. Shiloh
Chapter 7
Shiloh
I smile at Jonah after he whispers his intentions. A date? He’s known me for five minutes and he’s thinking beyond this?
I know I’m short on time, that this medication is going to wear off, and as soon as it does, I’ll be nothing more than my baser Omega instincts. There won’t be meaningful conversations, getting to know each other…at least on an emotional level. Physically? There’s no doubt.
But Jonah doesn’t seem to only want physicality. I think Cole might want more too? Mack is the wild card.
The moderator opens the door to the room. It’s filled with rich deep blues and golden accents of moons, golden stars are peppered on the ceilings and walls.
It’s not what I would have chosen for myself, but it will more than do. It’s moody, sensual, and safe.
I’m safe.
“Shiloh,” a voice says and I shake my head and glance at the moderator.
“This is your emergency button, hit this and security will be in the room right away. You can also shout the word red and a moderator will intervene. The bathroom is there, and the kitchenette is here,” he says, pointing in opposite directions. “Are there any questions you have or anything you remembered regarding my earlier questions?”
“My Gran, she’ll probably be calling to make sure I’m safe.”
“We will assure her that you’re here safely and on your own volition. Is there anything else?”
I wrap my arms around myself, and he gives me a curt nod.
“Your moderator is right through there monitoring your safety,” he says, pointing to what looks to be a mirror.
“Thank you.”
He gives us a smile and leaves the room. There’s a moment of silence as I look at the three men. I have to say, I think I hit the lottery with the Alphas willing to help me in my heat.
Jonah might be a year or two younger than Cole, but still larger, with perfectly styled dirty blond hair, light blue eyes, and a jaw that could solve most of the world’s problems. He holds himself like a businessman and his suit screams wealth; I mean, I suppose Jonah himself has no issue talking about the things he has either. He’s the most eager as well, which I find endlessly attractive.
Mack is by far the youngest, closer to my age, and a carbon copy of Cole. His dark hair is messier, but perfectly placed, his eyes are a lighter green than Cole’s, and he doesn’t have any facial hair. He looks like he walked off the latest runway with the symmetry of his face and analyzing gaze. He seems the most unsure, but still willing to be here. I worry that I might not be what he’s looking for.
I know I’m attractive. There’s no way I could have been Smash Knot’s ‘Omega companion’ otherwise. But they were young, they were handsome. Maybe Mack’s more of the same.
“So…” I say with a self-deprecating laugh. “We just met and are all about to get naked.”
Mack’s dark brows furrow. Fuck, I was right. He doesn’t want to be here.
“I’m just…I’m going to go to the bathroom for a moment,” I say, not letting them speak as I rush to the bathroom.
The tiles are a deep navy and all the fixtures are gold. There’s a massive shower with a tub inside of it, as well as two sinks and a toilet with a door.
I stare at myself in the mirror.
Holy fuck, I’m a mess. I finger brush my messy brown hair and splash some water on my face. I can get through this. I have to.
I rest my hands on the blue tile and stare at myself, tears involuntarily welling in my eyes as I feel all rationality slowly slipping away.
The rejection from my previous Alphas is still so raw it’s like an open wound. How do I make it out of here without the cut getting deeper? It’s not like I didn’t have previous abandonment issues with my parents, and with their rejection I’m not sure how to come out of this unscathed.
Why didn’t they want me?
Why doesn’t anyone want me?
I slide down on the floor, the cool tiles cooling my feverish skin. I make myself as small as possible, wrapping my arms around my knees and resting my cheek on my knee.
What if this ends up being like all my other heats? Never truly satisfying. What if they only agreed because they want an Omega to knot? They don’t even know me, and while I needed this kindness, I can’t help but to feel like a thing, not a person. I suppose that’s the existence of an Omega sometimes. I’ve never hated my designation, but lately the resentment is building.
I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to be in pain anymore.
Cramps wreck my body, my skin feels hot to the touch, and I start to wonder if maybe I should have just been sedated.
Tears streak my face as I fall apart on the bathroom floor.
The door clicks open, and I wipe my face and look over. I expect Cole, but it’s Mack.
He approaches me cautiously, getting down on his haunches and looking me over.
“Did I upset you?” he asks and I quickly shake my head no.
The last thing I need is to be difficult and for him to back out of this agreement.
His brows furrow again as he slides on the floor, resting his back against the glass, his long legs bracketing mine.
“I’m not as good with people as Jonah, definitely not with Omegas. This is strange for me too, being here, getting ready to do this when we’re basically strangers. I think you’re beautiful, and Cole clearly likes you. Cole doesn’t like anyone. So, I know that it’s a lot and you’re probably scared. But I’m here willingly, and I can’t promise you anything outside of your heat, but I’m promising to take care of you and treat you right while we’re here.”
I blink at him and his honesty. It feels raw; it feels real. His peppermint scent is thick and reminds me of Christmas.
My body has a mind of its own as I unfold myself, crawling on the tiled floor and situating myself in between his legs.
His breathing hitches as I grab his arms and wrap them around me. I’m going to steal all the cuddles I can during this heat, if that’s all I get.
“Holy shit. Is it normal for your skin to be this hot?” he asks in a worried tone. “Jonah will know,” he starts and I spin around in his arms, my hands on his face.
His face should be studied for how beautiful he is. Maybe he was made in a lab. My hands explore, unfurrowing his brow, and running my hands through his soft hair. I wonder what brands of hair products he uses, and how it still smells so much like peppermint.
I trace a pattern over the crease of his brow and down the straight line of his nose. Absolutely perfectly even.
“Pretty,” I rasp out and his light-green eyes meet mine as he tenderly places my chin in between two fingers.
“You can let go. I’ve got you.”
So I do. I let it all go and just let my body take what it needs.