Chapter 23 Presley
Presley
The steam from the shower had long since dissipated, but the humming in my chest remained as I stood in the bathroom, wrapped in an impossibly soft towel. My legs still trembled from the aftermath of my heat, from being knotted and filled and claimed in ways I'd never imagined.
But it was the mark on my neck that held my attention.
Hastings had claimed me.
I swiped my hand across the steamed mirror, clearing a circle in the condensation. The bite mark stared back at me, angry and red and all too real.
My fingers lifted, trembling as they touched the raised skin.
I hissed. It was tender, swollen, and when I pressed down even slightly, a jolt of sensation shot straight through the bond to Hastings. The bond hummed between us, like a living thing and somewhere in this house, Hastings would feel that. He'd know I was touching it.
I could feel him. Not his thoughts, not exactly, but his emotions. And right now, those emotions were a tangled mess of terror and guilt and regret.
Was it regret for claiming me?
Or something else?
My hand dropped from the mark, and I stared at my reflection. My hair was still damp, plastered to my cheeks. My eyes were too bright, my pupils still slightly blown. I looked like someone who'd been thoroughly used.
I looked like an omega who belonged to an alpha or a pack.
Did I now belong to Hastings?
But what about Fritz and Etienne?
Why the hell did I raise my chin and offer my life to him?
My pussy throbbed, a dull ache that reminded me of everything that had happened. The heat had burned through me for days, leaving me raw and wrung out.
I'd begged for them. All of them. And they'd given me everything I'd asked for.
Until Hastings had taken me into that shower and bitten down.
My head pounded, the remnants of the heat haze making everything feel slightly surreal. Like I was watching my life happen to someone else. Like the woman in the mirror with the claiming mark wasn't really me.
My heart did a strange fluttering thing, like it didn't know if it should soar or sink.
I needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn't an alpha. Someone who didn't smell like mine.
I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and dialed Maeve.
She answered on the second ring.
"Presley?" Her voice was sharp, instantly alert. "You sound different."
"Can you come here?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. I slid down the bathroom wall, the cold marble biting into my bare skin through the towel. "I can send the helicopter for you."
“Look at you, Miss Fancy Pants and her helicopter.”
I didn’t laugh. “It’s part of my deal.”
There was a long, cold silence on the other end.
"You know I can't come to London," Maeve said finally, her voice tight. "It gives me anxiety."
"Please."
"What's so important that you need me right now? Can't you just tell me over the phone?"
"I've just finished my heat."
"Oh my God." Her voice shifted, went softer. "Are you okay? Did they—are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. Better than fine. They were..." I stopped, not sure how to explain it. How to put into words the way they'd taken care of me, the way they'd made me feel safe even when I was out of my mind with need. "They were perfect, Maeve."
"Then what's wrong?"
"I’ve been claimed." I didn’t even bother to sugar coat it.
Another silence, this one longer than the first.
"Who?" Maeve's voice had gone flat, dangerous. "What the hell? Who marked you? All of them?"
"Just Hastings." My fingers found the mark again, tracing the edges.
"And now he's panicking. I can feel it through the bond.
It's like he regrets it, and I have no clue what to do.
" My voice cracked. "Maeve, I'm scared. Does it always feel like this?
Like your soul is being pulled in four different directions? Should I have let them all claim me?"
"I wouldn't know, Pres. I’ve never had a pack.
You should have listened to me and not presented your neck at all, but–" Her voice had gone hard again, the usual Irish lilt replaced by something flat and protective.
"It’s done now. But you know how I feel about packs.
About alphas. They're selfish. Even the good ones. He saw something he wanted and he took it.”
"Maybe they really want me."
"He wants a baby. And being claimed in your heat and then being knotted is the best way to get an omega pregnant, Presley. Alphas don’t care who gets hurt as long as they get what they want."
My eyes shut tight as I breathed in hard. "I know that."
"Do you?" She exhaled, and I heard the rustle of movement on her end. "Listen, come here. Get on the helicopter and visit me for a few hours. I'll make you a sandwich. I suppose you eat fancy stuff now, but I can still manage a tuna sandwich or beans on toast if that’s what you want."
My chest tightened. "You'd do that?"
"Of course I would. You're my best friend. You sound like you need someone who isn't an alpha telling you what to feel and what to eat."
"I do."
"Then come. Call me back once you know when."
"Okay." I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just get here safely."
She hung up, and I sat there on the cold bathroom floor, the phone still pressed to my ear, feeling more alone than I had in days.
The bond pulled at me, an insistent tug toward Hastings. He was close. Maybe in his room. Maybe lying awake feeling the same guilt in his veins that poured through the connection like fizzy wine.
I wanted to go to him. To tell him it was okay, that I'd wanted the claim, that I didn't regret it. But I should.
I also wanted to run. To get on that helicopter and fly back to North Yorkshire and hide in my caravan until I could make sense of what I was feeling.
The breakfast room was too quiet when I walked in.
All three of them were there, seated around the table like they'd been waiting. Their heads snapped up the moment I appeared in the doorway, and the weight of their stares made my steps falter.
Hastings sat at the head of the table, ready for work but his suit jacket was off, and his shirt sleeves rolled up. His gray eyes found the mark on my neck immediately, and something dark and possessive flashed across his face before he shuttered it.
Fritz was to his right, coffee cup halfway to his lips, his sandy blond hair mussed like he'd been running his hands through it. His gaze tracked over me slowly, lingering on my neck. “Morning Presley.”
I smiled. “Morning.”
“How are you feeling?” Etienne asked, giving me a boyish grin.
“Fine. Thank you.”
“You look beautiful. Glowing. Maybe you’re already pregnant. You must eat.” Etienne picked up his fork and pierced the bacon he’d just cut.
I swallowed and crossed to the table, taking the empty seat opposite Hastings and between Fritz and Etienne.
No one spoke.
The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until Fritz finally broke it.
"How are you really feeling?" His voice was gentle, but there was an edge to it.
"Honestly. I’m fine." I reached for the butter, needing something to do with my hands. I grabbed a piece of toast from the rack and smeared butter over it with more force than necessary. "I need the helicopter."
Fritz laughed.
"What?" Hastings' voice was sharp, almost panicked.
As I looked at him, I felt his fear spike through the bond. He thought I was leaving. Running.
"I need to visit Maeve," I said quickly. "She's upset about something, and I need to find out what it is."
The fear eased, replaced by something that felt like relief.
"I'll take you," Hastings said, already starting to stand.
"I'll be fine." I took a bite of toast, forcing myself to chew and swallow even though it tasted like cardboard. "I just need a lift. I'll be back before dinner."
"Absolutely not." Hastings leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "You're not going to North Yorkshire alone."
"Why not?"
"Because alphas will be able to smell you. Because—" He stopped, his jaw working. "Because I won't let you go alone."
"I'm not a prisoner."
"I didn't say you were."
"Then why can't I go by myself?"
Fritz set down his coffee cup. "He's right, Liebling. You need security. At least let Hastings or one of us come with you."
I sighed. "I don't need a bodyguard to visit my friend."
"You're part of this pack now," Fritz said gently. "We look after what is ours."
"I don't belong to anyone." The words came out sharper than I intended, and all three of them flinched.
Through the bond, Hastings' fear intensified.
"That's not what I meant," Fritz said carefully. "I just meant—"
A roar cut him off. "What the fuck!"
Etienne surged to his feet, his chair scraping across the floor. His eyes were locked on my neck, on the claiming mark, and his face had gone pale.
"Etienne—" Hastings started.
"Who claimed her?" Etienne's voice was deadly quiet now, more dangerous than the roar had been. "Who claimed you?"
He turned to Fritz who looked at Hastings, already knowing.
“Me,” Hastings replied.
"We agreed." Etienne's hands slammed down on the table, the dishes rattled. "We fucking agreed that when we found her, when we found our omega, we'd claim her together. As a pack."
"I know." Hastings stood, his shoulders tense. "I lost control. The heat, her scent, the way she looked at me. I couldn't stop."
"You could have stopped." Etienne moved around the table, putting himself face to face with Hastings. "You always have control, Henry. That's your whole thing. Control and logic and never doing anything without a plan. But you took her, marked her, bonded her without even thinking about us."
"I thought about you." Hastings' voice rose. "I thought about you every fucking second. I thought about how you'd feel, how Fritz would feel, and I still couldn't stop because she's mine."
She’s mine.
"She's ours!"
Ours.
My heart missed a beat, a messy, frantic stagger that left me lightheaded.
"I know that!"
"Do you?" Etienne's chest heaved. "Because it doesn't feel like you know that. It feels like you saw something you wanted and took it like you always do."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" Etienne turned to look at me, and the hurt in his eyes made my throat close. "Did you want this? Did you want him to claim you alone?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
Because the truth was complicated. I'd wanted the claim. I'd presented my neck. I'd begged for it in the moment, out of my mind with heat and need and the overwhelming desire to be his.
But in reality, I wasn’t out of my mind with heat. Everything else was true.
And I hadn't thought about what it would mean for the pack. For Fritz and Etienne. For the bond we were supposed to build together.
"Answer me, Princesse." Etienne's voice cracked. "Did you want this?"
"I—" I looked at Hastings, at the guilt written all over his face, then back at Etienne. "I don't know. In the moment, yes. But now—"
"Now you regret it."
"No." The word came out too fast. "I don't regret it. I just—I didn't think. Neither of us did."
Fritz stood, moving to place a hand on Etienne's shoulder. "She's still ours. One claim doesn't change that."
"Doesn't it?" Etienne shrugged off Fritz's hand. "She's bonded to him now. She can feel him. She'll always feel him first, strongest, and we'll be—what? Afterthoughts?"
"That's not how it works," Hastings said quietly.
"How would you know? You've never been in a pack bond. None of us have."
The silence that followed was deafening.
My toast sat forgotten on my plate, the butter congealing. My stomach churned, the nausea rising despite having eaten almost nothing.
“I’m sorry,” I whimpered.
Through the bond, Hastings' emotions crashed over me. Guilt, fear, anger, and underneath it all, a desperate, clawing need to fix this.
But I didn't know if this could be fixed.
"I need to leave," I said quietly.
All three heads turned to me.
"I need to go see Maeve. I need—" My voice broke. "I need to not be here right now."
"Presley—" Hastings reached for me, but I stood, stepping back.
"Please. Just let me go. I'll come back. I promise I'll come back. But I need space right now."
"I'll take you," Hastings said.
"No." I looked at him, at the man I was bonded to, and felt the pull of the connection between us. It would have been so easy to say yes. To let him fly me to North Yorkshire and hold my hand and try to make this better.
But I needed to do this alone.
"Fritz," I said, turning to him. "Will you take me? Please?"
Fritz looked between me and Hastings, his expression torn.
"Please," I repeated.
He nodded slowly. "Ja. I'll take you."
"Thank you."
I didn't look at Etienne as I left the room. I couldn't. Only now did I realize how much I meant to him.
I didn’t look at Hastings either, but through the bond, I felt his pain.
I walked away, needing some space to breathe.