Chapter 19 Presley
Presley
I turned the thermostat up for the third time in an hour.
Etienne looked up from where he was chopping vegetables at the kitchen island, his knife pausing mid-slice.
"Are you cold, Princesse?"
"No, I'm boiling actually."
His eyebrows rose. "Then why are you turning up the heat?"
I stared at the thermostat, my hand still on the dial. Why was I turning it up? My skin felt like it was on fire, sweat dampening the back of my neck, but something in me needed warmth. Needed heat. Needed—
"I don't know," I croaked out the lie.
Etienne set down the knife and crossed to me. His hand caught mine, gently pulling it away from the thermostat before turning it back down.
"Your heat is building," he said quietly. "Your body doesn't know what it wants right now."
"That's reassuring."
He smiled, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Come sit. Dinner's almost ready."
I followed him to the small table tucked into the corner of the kitchen. It was more intimate than the formal dining room, more comfortable. The kind of place where real people ate, not just wealthy alphas and their temporary omega.
Etienne plated the food with care. Roasted chicken, sauteed vegetables and potatoes glistening with butter and herbs.
It looked beautiful.
It smelled amazing.
I picked up my fork and pushed a piece of chicken around my plate.
"You need to eat," Etienne said, watching me.
"I'm not hungry."
"You barely ate lunch."
"I ate the strawberry."
"One strawberry is not sustenance, Princesse."
I took a small bite to appease him. The food was perfect, but it sat heavy in my stomach. Everything felt wrong. I was too hot, and too tight, like my skin didn't fit right.
Etienne reached across the table, his fingers brushing my forehead.
I froze.
His hand was cool against my burning skin, and the relief was so immediate I nearly whimpered.
"Princesse." His voice dropped, serious now. "You're burning up."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. Your heat's coming faster than we thought."
Panic clawed up my throat. "But the spray—"
"Can only do so much." He stood, moving around the table to crouch beside my chair. His hand cupped my face, gentle and grounding. "It's okay. We knew this was coming."
"I need to talk to Maeve."
The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
Etienne's expression softened. "Of course. Go. I'll clean up."
I practically ran upstairs.
My hands shook as I pulled up Maeve's number and hit video call.
She answered on the first ring, her face filling the screen. She was in her caravan, the familiar cramped space behind her, and the sight of her made my chest ache.
"Pres?" Her smile faded the moment she saw my face. "What's wrong?"
"My heat's starting."
"I thought you had another week at least?"
"So did I. But it's coming early and I'm panicking, Maeve. I can't do this. Three alphas. What if I lose control? What if they go into rut and I can't—"
"Breathe, Presley. Just breathe."
I sucked in air, but it didn't help. My lungs felt too small, my chest too tight.
"Heats aren't a bad thing," Maeve said gently. "Some alphas, good alphas, look after their omega. They make it good."
"But I'm not theirs, Maeve." My voice cracked. "I'm only here because I'm being paid to have their baby. Why the hell did I agree to this?"
"Because you were broke and desperate and they offered you a way out."
"That's not helping."
"You're right. Sorry." She leaned closer to the screen, her green eyes serious. "Listen to me."
"I'm listening." I needed all the help I could get.
She inhaled a deep breath and said, "Yes, you'll be out of your head. Yes, you'll feel like you're burning from the inside out. But you'll love it, Pres. You'll be begging for them. Remember all those heats you've had stuck in a caravan with two dildos and a lot of hope?"
My face burned. "Maeve—"
"Those dildos are going to pale in comparison to what you're going to get. Trust me."
Despite everything, I laughed. It was shaky and half-hysterical, but it was a laugh.
"But you need to promise me something," Maeve said, her expression going serious.
"What?"
"Don't bite any of them. Don't let them bite you. Don't present your neck." Her voice dropped, urgent now. "Because if you do, Presley, you'll end up like me."
My stomach dropped. "And what exactly is that?"
"On the run." Her smile was bitter. "Because being claimed changes everything. It's forever. And when the alpha is wrong, when they're cruel, you're stuck. Do you understand? You're stuck until you can afford to have it severed, and even then, part of you will always be tied to them."
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, the heat rolling through me in waves.
"I don't want that," I whispered.
"I know. So keep your neck covered, yeah? No matter how good it feels, no matter how much you want it at the moment. Promise me."
"I promise."
She nodded, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Good. Now stop panicking. You're going to love it. I think you have three gorgeous alphas who are clearly obsessed with you?"
"Obsessed. Are you on something?"
She laughed. "You're going to have the time of your life."
"You're definitely insane."
"Maybe." She grinned, but it didn't reach her eyes. There was something sad there, something broken that she tried to hide behind humor.
I saw it anyway. I always saw it.
"Maeve," I said quietly. "In twenty weeks, I'll have one hundred thousand pounds. I want you to be happy. I'll pay for your bond to be severed."
The words hung between us.
Maeve's face crumpled. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she covered her mouth with her hand.
"No," she choked out. "No, Pres. I can't let you do that. I can't let you give me every penny you have."
"I've never had it," I said. "I never expected so much. And what am I going to do with that kind of money anyway? Buy a slightly bigger caravan?" I leaned closer to the screen. "I want to share it with you. You're my best friend. You're my family. Let me do this."
"Presley—"
"Please."
She sobbed, her shoulders shaking. "You're too good. You're too bloody good for this world."
"I'm really not."
"You are." She wiped her face with her sleeve, smearing mascara across her cheek. "Thank you. God, thank you."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I do. You have no idea what this means."
A knock at my bedroom door made me jump.
"Princesse?" Etienne's voice, muffled through the wood. "Can I come in?"
I looked at Maeve.
She was smiling, though tears still streamed down her face.
"Go," she said. "Your alpha's calling."
"He's not my alpha."
"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Pres. Oh and Mr. Cheddar has been pining at your caravan door."
I pressed my hand over my heart. "He misses me."
"He is probably wondering where to hide the mice."
I laughed as I ended the call, then crossed to the door, opening it to find Etienne standing there with an armful of fluffy white towels.
"I wanted to run you a bath," he said. "Help you relax before the heat really hits."
My throat tightened as I looked up at Etienne, at his kind eyes and his gentle smile and the way he held those towels like they were the most important thing in the world.
"What about the other two?" I asked, my voice small. "Hastings and Fritz. What if they're not here on time."
"They will be," Etienne said firmly. "And so you know. They're good men, Princesse. They'll take care of you. All of us will."
"How do you know?"
"Because the way Hastings looked at you through that screen today. And the way Fritz grinned when I told him I knotted you. They're not indifferent, Princesse. They're just scared."
"Of what?"
"Of wanting something they think they can't have."
"And you?"
"I don't hang about when I know."
I smiled. "And you know."
He held out his hand. "I do."
The bath was perfect.
Etienne had thought of everything. Lavender oil in the water. Candles on the edge of the tub. A glass of cold water on the side table within easy reach.
He helped me in, then sat on the floor beside the tub, his back against the wall.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"For what?"
"For this. For being kind. For not making me feel like I'm just—" I stopped, not sure how to finish.
"Just what?"
"A means to an end. A surrogate."
"You're more than that." He reached over, his fingers trailing through the water. "You've been more than that since the moment you hung up on Hastings and then showed up at our door anyway."
"I didn't show up. You sent me a helicopter and begged me to get into it."
"See. We knew. We just didn't know it."
I laughed, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles.
Etienne stood, his hands going to the hem of his shirt.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Getting in with you." He pulled the shirt over his head, revealing the body I'd explored earlier. "If that's okay."
My mouth went dry. "It's okay."
He stripped off the rest of his clothes with easy confidence, then stepped into the tub behind me. Water sloshed over the edge as he settled in, his legs bracketing mine, his chest warm against my back.
His arms came around me, pulling me against him.
"Better?" he murmured into my hair.
"Yes."
He reached for a cloth, dipping it in the water before running it over my arm. Slow. Gentle. The touch was soothing, letting some of the tension drain from my shoulders.
He washed my other arm, my shoulders, and my back. His movements were careful, reverent, like I was something precious.
The cloth moved to my collarbone, then lower, washing away the sweat and heat. When he reached my breasts, his touch remained gentle, clinical almost, and I found myself relaxing further.
"You're good at this," I whispered.
"I've had practice."
"With other omegas?"
"With taking care of people I care about."
The cloth moved to my neck, and I felt his breath against my skin. His mouth hovered over my scent gland, just below my ear, and I froze.
He didn't bite. Didn't press. Just breathed me in.
"Princesse," he murmured. "Your scent."
I thought about Maeve's words. About not presenting my neck. About the danger of being claimed by the wrong alpha.
But I didn't panic. Instead, I found myself wondering what it would be like to have an alpha who was my scent match. A real match. I was attracted to Etienne, I’d choose him in a heartbeat. But what I felt about him wasn’t just attraction. He felt right.
What did that mean?
"Do you know what your hidden scents are?" Etienne asked, his voice rough. "The ones that only come out in full heat?"
I bit my lip. "My mum told me never to tell an alpha my scent. She said some would try to claim me, pretending to be a match just to bond me."
"Your mother was wise."
"She was." I leaned my head back against his shoulder. "I know I have scents I never reveal to anyone. The only one I ever tell people is the smell of rain in the air right before the downpour. You know that moment when you can taste the storm coming? When the air goes heavy and electric?"
"Petrichor," he said softly. "I can smell that on you. It's beautiful."
My heart kicked. "You can?"
"Since the day you walked into Hastings' office."
I spun in the water, facing him. Water splashed over the edge of the tub, but neither of us cared.
"You can smell my scent?"
"Yes." His hands settled on my hips, holding me steady. "But until your heat, I won't know your base scents. The deepest ones. Those only come out when you're vulnerable."
My mother's warning echoed in my head. Never tell. Never reveal.
But Etienne had been kind. He'd been patient. He'd made me feel safe in a way I'd never felt before. But why?
"You can smell it, can't you? Even now, even before my heat."
"Yes. Vanilla. Your other scent is vanilla." His voice was strained. "I can smell rain and vanilla and something else I can't quite name yet."
He turned me around gently, his hands cupping my face. Water dripped between us as he leaned closer, his forehead pressing to mine.
"I can smell the same on you," I admitted.
"And Hastings and Fritz?”
I shrugged. “Your pack smells like rain. There is also an earthy note there and perhaps leather.”
His eyes searched mine, dark and intense. “But you don’t know what your heat scents are?”
“I never paid attention to anything but getting off.”
He laughed. “I get that. But you know it means we're compatible. It means your omega recognizes my alpha." He paused, his thumb brushing my cheek. "It doesn't mean we're a scent match. Not yet. But it means we could be."
My breath caught.
Slowly, so slowly I could have stopped him at any moment, but I didn’t.
He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. It was gentle, nothing like the heated desperation from earlier.
When he pulled back, we stared at each other, the candlelight flickering across his face.
"What happens now?" I whispered.
"Now?" His lips curved into a small smile. "Now we wait for your heat. And we see if the universe is as smart as I think it is."
I kissed him again, letting myself believe, just for this moment, that maybe the universe knew exactly what it was doing.
Because perhaps Maeve was my fairy godmother and found me my Prince Charmings.