Chapter 20
“You stupid bitch!” Rich roars, the back of his hand hitting my cheek and sending me sprawling towards the floor. “I can’t fucking smell you! What the fuck did you do?”
I knew he would take it badly, but this isn’t what I expected.
“I just went on stronger suppressants,” I say, struggling to sit up.
“I was told it was best working in emergency medicine to be on the heaviest doses I can stand, since I never know what type of Alphas are going to come in. If one is feral, I could throw them into rut with my pheromones.” I wipe the back of my hand over my face, and it comes away with blood on it. “I was just trying to be safe.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make, Omega,” Greg chastises, ‘accidentally’ stepping on my fingers as he walks by. “As your pack, we need to be consulted on matters like this. We have a stake in this, too, you know. If you don’t go into heat, how are we supposed to get pups?”
Luckily, we haven’t bonded, something my Omega and I are on the same page about.
The last thing I want now is kids, especially with these three, and it’s nearly impossible to get pregnant without a bond. And the idea of going into heat around them, being that vulnerable? It makes me want to vomit.
This isn’t what I thought my life would end up like. I could see a happy future with Rich for years, but everything changed on our anniversary when he introduced me to Tripp and Greg.
How did I miss what was going to happen?
He tricked me. And I ignored the blaring red flags until it was too late.
And now I am paying for my naivety.
When Tripp and Greg first moved in, it really wasn’t all bad. I wasn’t attracted to them like I was with Rich, but I could deal with their touches and attention as long as he was in the room. But the more intertwined I got with the three of them, the rougher things got.
By the time Rich convinced me to register as a pack with them officially, I should have known that I wasn’t safe.
But I was a fucking fool. I should’ve paid attention to the warning signs. I know them well, considering the fact that I have a checklist I go through with Omegas that we think may be at risk in the ER.
I never would’ve thought that the Omega at risk was going to be me. But none of us ever do.
An Italian leather loafer connects with my ribs, and I curl up in a ball and weep. Tripp just laughs, like my pain is the funniest thing he’s ever fucking seen.
He likes my tears.
Says they taste sweet when he licks them off my cheeks.
The only saving grace is that they can’t force a bond on me. Even if it means biting my tongue the entire time they are near me, I refuse to open my mouth on the off chance they can figure out how to force it.
I have to get out of here before they do.
As they yell at me, kick me, and spit on me, I close my eyes and open the gate to the paddock I have created in my mind. I stretch out in the wildflowers and stare up at the warm sun, the sound of fresh water in my ears .
I luxuriate in the texture of the soft grass, ignoring the horrors of what my body is going through on the other side of the gate.
I will deal with the side effects of that later. Clean myself up. Treat my wounds.
When the gate to my paddock opens again, and I pull myself out of the wildflowers, finding myself in bed, bloody and sore, my throat aching and probably bruised with fingerprints, I know that one day soon, the gate won’t open, and I won’t make it out of my paddock.
So I climb out of the scene of the crime, throw myself in the shower, and nurse my wounds.
And I start to make my plan to get out and never look back.
Memories assault me the same way the scents swirling around the room do, and I struggle to calm my rapidly pounding heartbeat. My body aches, and I squeeze my knees to my chest, struggling to breathe out of my mouth.
My traitorous body wants to take them in. Wants to luxuriate in the scents that surround me.
But I can’t. I can’t let myself fall down that path again. I know that it leads to the paddock in my mind, and I won’t allow myself to be vulnerable like that again.
And yet I can’t help it.
The trailer is small, and there are so many of them. It’s all around me, soaking into my skin, trying to rewrite my DNA so I can never be alone again. My traitorous Omega instinct screams bite, claim, with every breath I take.
Matteo is the closest to me, and I’m wearing his shirt, so I know he’s the owner of the sweet kettle corn scent that is making my mouth water.
But also swirling in the room are the irresistible aromas of caramel and candy apples.
That’s probably the twins, since their pheromone profiles are going to be remarkably similar.
It’s so sweet and yet has that tart apple undertone that is so sharp that I can almost hear the crunch beneath my teeth.
A sugary, salty fragrance with hints of vanilla and fruit makes my teeth ache, and I am immediately thrown into memories of the boardwalk as a kid, chewing saltwater taffy on the Ferris wheel.
Underneath it all is the sweet, doughy fragrance of funnel cakes, dusted in powdered sugar.
It’s fainter than the others, but I would recognize it anywhere.
I would laugh at the irony of a group of men smelling like carnival foods ending up in a circus if I weren’t so fucking scared of what this means.
I can’t do this again. I won’t.
I won’t survive it.
Dexter’s blue eyes are locked on mine, and for some reason, since I know he, above all the others, doesn’t want a scent match either, I find it easiest to tell him my story.
Because I owe them that much.
It’s not fair of me to write them off and not tell them why. I can see the hope, the longing in the eyes of the others, and if I am going to crush their spirits and pull their dream out from underneath them, they deserve the truth.
“Rich was wonderful. We met during our residency at Portland Hospital and dated throughout our time there. When it came to getting our full-time positions, I moved to Florida with him to work at his top choice of a hospital. I didn’t see anything wrong with that at the time.
On our fourth anniversary, he took me to this incredible restaurant, and I thought, this is it.
He’s going to propose, and my Omega will want to mark him.
But that’s not what happened. At that dinner, he introduced me to his pack.
His pack, which I didn’t know he had. Apparently, they were a pack in college, and they were getting back together.
I didn’t like the guys, and they smelled awful, and they made me nervous, but Rich was my scent match.
I knew he would never put me in danger.”
I was a fucking fool, believing all of the romantic notions about scent matches being everything you could ever possibly need. About how they’ll protect you from everything and are your perfect match. I fell into the propaganda that biology doesn’t get it wrong, that we were made for each other.
How could I fall for that as a physician? I’m smarter than that. And yet I let my romantic ideals and notions, the things a young Omega dreams about, guide my decisions.
Fucking bullshit.
“Despite all of my misgivings, I stayed when they moved in, and eventually let them strong-arm me into registering as a pack.” Dexter continues to stare me down, but it doesn’t deter me.
It doesn’t even make me uncomfortable. All I hope is that he can read my truth in my eyes.
“I’m a smart woman, but that Alpha made me fucking stupid.
It was like, because he smelled like sweet cream and berries, I thought he could do no wrong.
I should have taken my Omega instincts refusing to bond him, as the warning it was.
But after we registered, and I was all but stuck with them legally and emotionally, they started to want more from me. ”
I trail my fingers up my calves, trying to dispel the phantom touches that linger on my skin. The indelible impression they carved into my flesh.
“More than I was willing to give.”
Rumbling growls fill the air at my words, and I can’t stop the whine that escapes me. I try to tuck myself deeper into the corner I’ve taken up residence in as if it could protect me from the wrath of four angry Alphas.
It never has before.
“Just because he was your scent match doesn’t mean he’s not a person,” Matteo says quietly. “And people can be shitty. They can be corrupt. It doesn’t stop them from being an awful person.”
“It certainly does not. Those three said it was my duty as an Omega, that I was irresistible. They were only Alphas; they weren’t responsible for their actions.
It was my fault for not doing my duty as their Omega.
I couldn’t live that way anymore. Every night, their hands…
” A loud, feral sound escapes from Jude as he shoves himself to his feet and starts to pace the small space, making me shiver and not in an entirely bad way.
“Anyway, things got worse, way worse, when I went on heavy-duty suppressants to hide my pheromones entirely. I’m pretty sure they were close to killing me that night. That’s when I began making a plan to escape. I knew I had my out when I saw the job posting for Cirque de Mordu.”
“And so you fled,” Jude says tightly. I break eye contact with Dexter for the first time and nod at the big showrunner.
“Yeah. I managed to gather as much cash as I could without it raising red flags during the time we negotiated my contract, packed up clothes that I was going to donate, and left as soon as we set my start date. A pro bono lawyer reviewed the contract, as I couldn’t risk you kicking me out, but it only took her a day to get back to me. I was able to hold on that extra day.”
“So you lied. About your parents, then.” I can’t tell if he’s mad or not, but it seems like he is. I shudder and drag my gaze back to Dexter, pleading with him to understand my choice to withhold the truth from Jude .
“Yes. Can you blame me for lying? I come with drama and baggage that would have caused you to kick me out immediately.”
“We’d never throw an abused woman out,” Quinton says quietly. He’s calmed down since he first woke up, and his coloring is better. “None of us.”
“Not like it’s much safer here,” I mutter before I can stop myself. I think my fever is coming back because I usually can hold my tongue better.
Jude stops his pacing and turns the full force of his Alpha attention on me.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Just when I thought I couldn’t curl up any tighter, I manage to, attempting to hide from his anger.
The big guy takes a few deep breaths and speaks again.
“Did someone hurt you? That night that I found you in the tub?”
“Yes,” Matteo and Quinton chorus. The two exchange a look, and Matteo continues, “We saw her with a massive bump on her forehead.”
“In the tub?” Dario asks, face scrunched up. “What tub?”
“Your ice tubs,” Jude tells him, wringing his hands as he paces the short length of the trailer.
“I came out at three in the morning, and she was standing in it fully clothed, looking rattled as hell, but she never told me what happened. I didn’t want to push, and she wasn’t talking, so I just assumed… ”
“Alphas will always try to take what isn’t offered to them,” I whisper, looking down at my feet. “You scared them off, though, so thanks for that.”
The trailer goes deadly silent.
For what feels like minutes but is probably only a few heartbeats, no one speaks.
Pheromones press in on me from every side, heavy weights that drag me deeper into my fear, and I start to whine as their scents shift from delectable to disgusting. Burnt, bitter, rotten, and greasy notes have me wrinkling my nose and holding back a sneeze.
There’s no telling who moves first, who reacts first, because one moment they’re all frozen and the next they’re talking at once, five voices bombarding me with questions.
“What did they do?”
“Did you recognize their voices?”
“How many were there?”
“Did they try to rape you?”
“How did you get that bump on your head?”
I can’t think straight, can’t function, and they’re all shouting. At each other. At me. Trying to get answers, trying to make a plan for how to find out who attacked me.
I can’t take it anymore. There’s no way I can be in this small space with so many angry voices. I’m overstimulated and under-rested, and the stomach flu I’m still fighting is making my gut churn.
I have to get out of here.
As they’re distracted plotting revenge for a crime they weren’t privy to, I slip against the wall of the trailer. When I make it to the door, Dexter’s eyes whip to mine.
I expect him to call attention to me, to let everyone know that I’m trying to escape, to ensure that I am a prisoner of my scent matches once again.
Except he looks at me with a surprisingly gentle expression and nods tightly, turning back to the conversation, and keeping the attention off of me, allowing me to leave undetected.
It only takes me a minute or so to make it to my trailer when I’m at a full run. Fears of Alphas jumping out of their beds, chasing me down, overlay reality as I try to keep my wits about me .
I close and lock the door to my home, shoving a chair underneath the handle in a makeshift barricade.
It may not be enough to keep out all Alphas, but at least it gives me an early warning system. I think I can fit out of one of the windows in a pinch.
Immediately, I dig through my bag and find my suppressants and pop three in my mouth. I’m not supposed to take so many, but I need them to work fast. I can stay locked in here for forty-eight hours until they kick in again.
Never again will I allow myself to be trapped by something as insignificant as the way someone smells.
I refuse to let scent control me again..
But it’s not like ignoring my instincts is easy.
Every part of my body revolts at the idea that I may not smell them again. That these sweet, carnival-scented men are mine, and I can’t deny it.
There is no choice for me but to move forward without this albatross over my head.
As I prepare to rinse the lingering scents of these men off of me, knowing I will never smell them again, I give in and allow myself one minute.
Sixty seconds.
To smell them on my shirt, to remember what it was like to be surrounded by them.
To imagine the life we could’ve had if I weren’t so fucking damaged.
Because I’ll never get to experience this again.
They’re my scent matches. It’s so fucking frustratingly clear.
Thirty seconds.
But a scent match doesn’t mean anything.
Doesn’t mean they’ll take care of me.
Doesn’t mean they’ll respect me.
Twenty seconds .
A scent match lures you in with the promise of safety, but that’s not what you get.
It traps you. Locks you to someone for eternity.
Ten seconds.
And I’m not going to be tied to anyone.
I’m my own person.
I step into the hot water and wash them away.