Chapter 8
Miraya
The downside of being on the shivering, too-hot, manic run up to an induced heat?
I couldn’t sleep without wanting to peel my skin off my bones just for some respite from the never-ending heat.
It was getting worse, but there was still at least a day until the true heat took over me, when I’d be mindless and screaming, desperate for touch, purrs, and a knot. No, not any knot. My mate’s knot.
I wondered if he could sense it, wherever he lived in the clubhouse. I wondered if that was why he’d be away tomorrow.
I angrily turned the next page in my book, and a strangled scream of frustration ripped up my throat when I saw it was the final page, and the rest of the book was full of previews and advertisements.
This was the last page in the last book I took from the sanctuary, and I’d read them all in twenty-four fucking hours.
I scratched at my thigh where I burned, itched, prickled.
My fingernails gouged long, red marks. I needed more books.
That was the most logical conclusion. The books distracted me, kept me focused on something other than the scalding, throbbing heat inside my skin, the cramps twisting my gut.
And the fact that both those things would get worse.
I groaned and cast the book aside, dragging myself out of bed and dressing in leggings and an oversized black T-shirt I might have stolen from a laundry hamper.
It was the only thing that felt good on my sensitive skin; everything else was like razor blades and burrs.
It had nothing to do with the fire and smoke scent embedded in the cotton, or the warm, decadent oud woven among it.
“It’s just a nice shirt,” I assured myself, shoving my feet into the shoes Tybalt hunted down for me, because you never knew when you’d need to run.
“A hundred percent cotton, clearly expensive. That’s the only reason.
It has nothing at all to do with it smelling like the two alphas who took care of you. ”
Nope. Nada.
The clubhouse was deathly quiet, and I didn’t have to growl at anyone who got in my way as I snuck through the long hallways towards the east wing of the sprawling building.
The sky was dark outside the windows I passed, which explained why the clubhouse was so deserted.
I relaxed when I realised no one was going to stop me, or—god forbid—try to help me.
Jessia was right about the alphas here; they saw themselves as saviours and protectors, and would definitely try to bundle me back in my nest.
I could bundle myself, thank you very much, but I wanted a new stack of books to get me through the next day. After that, I’d be too delirious to read anything, and I wouldn’t notice the passage of time, so… bonus?
I groaned, running a hand through my hair and wincing when my fingers snagged in knotted curls.
I might have spent too long in the shower under the cold water yesterday, letting its chill ease the heat flaring through me.
I might have forgotten to condition my hair.
Rookie mistake, but it was fine. I wasn’t here to win any hair beauty contests.
But if my omega was her own person, she’d be snarling in my face right now. What if our path crossed with our mate’s and we looked awful? No wonder he didn’t want us, with our curls matted on one side, dark shadows sunken around our eyes, and our lips chapped.
I didn’t bother yelling at my own head that he wouldn’t want us even if we looked like Miss India.
Not that I’d ever compete; I was a black-Indian woman and colourism ran deep in those contests.
And in my own damn family. I didn’t even want to repeat some of the shit my aunties and distant relatives had said about me just because Mum had the nerve to fall for a man from Nigeria.
“You don’t buy into that shit,” I reminded myself as I passed the front door and continued deeper into the clubhouse. “This is just your hormones being a raging dick to your self-esteem. There’s nothing at all wrong with you. You’re a beauty and a badass.”
That was another motto that came from Mum, although I’d doctored the original to include the word badass.
My cousin altered it further to beauty and a baddie, but I didn’t feel like a baddie right now, so I’d settle for badass.
I could fight. I could growl powerfully enough to make an alpha uncomfortable.
I shut out memories of fighting the weaselly fucker who abducted me, mentally going over the self-defence lessons I took with Auntie Teja.
A shadow fell across my path, and I snarled, snapping my hand out, fingers curled into a fist. It drove into the male’s side so quickly he couldn’t stop it, and my eyes widened when I saw Prodigy stumble back with a grunt, clutching his ribs.
“Nice right hook,” he wheezed.
“Shit,” I breathed, shaking out my hand because punching someone fucking hurt. “I didn’t realise it was you.”
“Helps to look before you throw a punch,” he replied with a smile that harboured no anger.
“It didn’t help me to hesitate when I got grabbed off the street,” I retorted, moving past him in the direction of the living room I first woke up in. I’d been seduced by the memory of crammed bookcases, but I wished now I’d snuck into the sanctuary so I could have avoided the president.
No you don’t, my annoying omega side taunted.
I mentally gave her the middle finger. Go obsess over your mate.
Of course, that only reminded me of the rejection, and it spread in a corrosive layer across my chest, the pain spiking deeper than it had before. My heat was really not helping matters.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Prodigy said, jogging to keep up with me as I marched into the room and across a thick tug towards the shelves. “That was insensitive.”
“I punched you; pretty sure that cancels out your thoughtless comment.”
“Thoughtless? Ouch.”
I fired a look over my shoulder. “Am I wrong?”
“Is that my shirt?”
I froze for a split second, then resumed reaching for a purple-spined book on the shelf above my head. “How should I know? I found it, so I’m keeping it.”
Liar, liar.
His laughter was warm and tugged on me so suddenly, so compellingly, that my heat flared. It was there in the burning on my nape, in the cramp in my gut. I curled my hand into a fist, grabbing the book with my other, and began a stack.
“It used to be mine, then Tyb stole it. Serves him right that someone else stole it from him.”
That explained the combination of scents in the fabric.
I resisted the urge to duck my head to bury my nose in the cotton, or—gods—to cross the room to inhale that heavenly scent direct from the source.
It wasn’t the vanilla and leather scent of my fated mate, but it was better.
Even more appealing because Prodigy had never hurt me, had only provided steady, unwavering support.
With some overprotective alpha nonsense of course, but that went without saying.
“Don’t you have better things to do?” I bit out, and winced at my tone. The closer my heat got, the less control I had over myself. I pulled down another book, this one a modern paperback, just for something to do with myself.
“Not currently. I didn’t peg you as a horticulture enthusiast,” he mused as I pulled a hardcover from the shelf.
“I’m not, but there were only four fiction books in the sanctuary and I read them all,” I replied, my tone sharp even as I tried to soften it. I kept telling myself I was leaving this place and going home, but my nest was here, and… and my mate was here.
I sighed, my shoulders drooping. That was depressing. The reason I couldn’t leave was Sweetie lived here? I used to be an independent bad bitch who didn’t give a shit about any man, and here I was, despising one and wanting to kill him on sight but unable to pull myself away.
“Put those down,” Prodigy murmured, approaching slowly, carefully. Wise man; I wasn’t above punching him in the dick this time. “I have something better.”
I turned, eyed him suspiciously. “Like what?”
“Trust me.” He held out a hand; I narrowed my eyes further.
“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. And I don’t reckon I can throw you very far, buddy.”
His eyes softened, turning my stomach into knots.
I bared my teeth in response, my shoulder blades itchy and not just because of the heat.
He took another slow step, engulfing me in the sweet, smoky earth of his scent.
My senses drowned in that fragrance until I wanted to purr.
He smelled too good. I was trying to keep my head clear, and here he was smelling so good I wanted to roll in his damn scent, wanted it on every inch of my skin, wanted—
Nope. I cut that thought off dead. It was the heat messing with me. And probably a result of the trauma of being kidnapped, auctioned, and sold.
“Tybalt was in a dangerous state when I first met him,” Prodigy said without prompting, catching my gaze and holding it.
“He struggled so badly we nearly lost him, and I don’t want the same to happen to you.
And Tyb—” Prodigy sighed, running a hand through his rumpled red hair.
“He sees himself in you, and it’s his instinct to take care of you.
He’s worried, which makes me worried about him and you. ”
I crossed my arms over my chest, books clutched to me.
“I thought it might help you trust me if you understood why I want to take care of you. You’re safe with me, omega.” A little twinkle entered his hazel eyes, lighting up the green specks until they glowed. “Your name would be safe with me, too.”
“I don’t know why everyone’s so obsessed with learning my name,” I muttered, more guttural than I intended.
“Because calling you Omega is dehumanising. It breaks you down to your designation, and leaves no space for you.”
That… wasn’t the answer I expected.
I sighed. “You’ve done this a lot, haven’t you? Taken in omegas who’ve been treated like shit. You know exactly the right thing to say.” It wasn’t a compliment.
His head cocked to the side, a little smugness in the movement. “So I finally said the right thing, did I?”
I groaned. Damn Prodigy and his mischievous eyes and that smile that crinkled the freckle on his cheek. Damn his stupid scent and his calming, self-assured nature and the sleek muscles that strained against his tight-fitting black T-shirt.
“Get out. This is my room now,” I grumbled, shoving at him with my arm, a tingle moving through my whole body at the warmth and strength of him. He didn’t even waver. Damn. He was about half the size of Giant, and yet every bit as immovable.
“If you want to be left alone with a room full of classics and reference books, I’m happy to leave,” he replied, that cocky alpha gleam still in his eye.
I burned with irritation at how good he looked, how much I wanted to punch him and then kiss the stupid smile off his face, in that order.
“But if you come with me, I can promise you fiction.” His voice became a caress, spiking my temperature, my heartbeat. “Adventure. Romance. Fantasy.”
I swallowed. Tried to glare and didn’t quite pull it off. “What makes you think I’ll agree to that?”
His smile sank deeper in one side of his face. “You didn’t come here for non-fiction. You came here for escapism. You need it.”
My heart clamoured, a hard, messy collection of beats. “Propositioning a girl who escaped captivity a few days ago. Classy.”
“I know the meaning of the word no, sweetheart. Say it once, and I’ll back off.
And just so we’re clear, I’m serious about the books.
Tell me what you need, and it’s yours. We all have our ways of dealing with trauma, and isolation only ever hurts in the long run.
Connection is a healthier way of dealing with it, and we’re here for you.
” He paused, then added in a way that made my blood hot, “Both of us.”
This is not the way I thought my morning would go. “Why?”
“Because I’ve never once seen Tyb connect with anyone the way he has with you. Because he’s been obsessing over you since the night you met and gave him hell.”
“He’s been stalking my nest door,” I muttered.
“He likes you,” Prodigy said with a softer smile, though I was no less aware of him physically. My hands itched to touch him, and my gut cramped. “And I trust his judgement, so if he sees something incredible in you, then I’m intrigued. Curious.”
“Are you gonna stalk me too?” I huffed, then glared. “Is that why you were conveniently around when I left my nest this morning?”
His smile widened into a grin. “I just had to see for myself how beautiful you are when you scowl. Tyb won’t stop talking about the sparkle of murder in your eyes.”
I rolled those murderous eyes. “You’re full of shit.”
Prodigy shrugged, his shirt stretching further. I dragged my eyes away. “I got an alert that something tried to breach our fence, and I got up to check it.”
I stiffened, all the warmth draining from me.
“Nothing to worry about,” Prodigy said with a gentleness that warmed me. He dug his phone from the back pocket of his jeans—dark wash and very well fitted—then showed me the screen. “Here’s the culprit.”
“A fox,” I groaned, watching the black and white footage of a fox sniffing at a tall chain-link fence, until a shock of electricity warned it back. “You scared the shit out of me, Prodigy.”
“Barclay,” he said, catching me off guard with a squeeze to my hand. “My name’s Barclay, and yours is…”
“Private,” I replied with a sweet trickle of venom.
He laughed. “Well, come on, Private. Let’s get you some books.”