Chapter 11
ELEVEN
MAX
“Have you ever tried red light therapy?”
I turned from the display of collagen-infused hand mitts—whatever the fuck that was—to Gwen and startled. “Oh my God, what is on your face?”
“It’s red light therapy,” she repeated like I should know what that meant. Her words were muffled by a white, Jason-style mask that glowed red around the edges. “It’s supposed to be really good for you.”
“I highly doubt that,” I said, scrunching my nose. “It looks like a class-action lawsuit waiting to happen. Take it off. And I can’t believe you just put a tester on your face. You have no idea who’s touched that.”
She rolled her eyes and pulled the mask off before setting it back on the display counter. “You’ve gotta learn to live a little. I’m getting you one. You could use it.”
I scowled and tried to snatch the basket away from her before she tossed it inside, but she was too quick.
“Rude. And I already told you I’m not paying for half the shit you’ve put in there.
I need to stock up on the basics, that’s all.
Basics. Do you know what that means? Shampoo, conditioner, moisturizer. ”
“Ah, yes, of course. Because your forty-five-dollar hair mousse is a basic.”
“Yes, it is. I’ll get frizzy in a hot kitchen if I don’t use it,” I sniffed.
She smirked. “Well, I already told you that you’re not paying, so you don’t have a choice. Now, let’s go look at sheet masks. They’re on sale.”
I sighed. What was it with me and masks lately?
Gwen seemed determined to buy out the store, so I left her to it, wandering behind. I’d just give most of it back to her in a few months, anyway.
On our way over, we passed a display of sugar scrubs so pungent it made my head ache. “Eugh, can you smell that?” I asked her, lifting one to her nose. Pomegranate and papaya had never been so off-putting.
She took a whiff and shook her head. “It just smells fruity to me. Maybe you’re coming down with something?”
“God, I hope not.” That was the last thing I needed. Although I had tossed and turned all night, thinking about… well, the obvious. Maybe I’d made myself sick.
My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. Is that him? My breath hitched. Gwen was usually the only one who texted me, and it clearly wasn’t her.
Although the company I bought my favorite fancy cotton pajamas from sent me marketing texts all the time. It was probably just another one of those.
I looked behind me to check that no one could see over my shoulder, and pulled it from my pocket before nearly dropping it when I saw the message preview.
The Masked Man
Hello, sweetheart. How are you feeling today?
Oh my God, it was him.
When I woke up this morning, I’d sort of convinced myself the previous night was a fever dream. I mean, had a masked man really broken into my apartment just to proposition me? It was a ludicrous thought.
And then there was the fact that I had maybe the best orgasm of my life while I imagined him watching me get off. Surely that couldn’t be real?
Heart racing, I shoved the phone back into my pocket without replying and scanned the neighboring aisles, just in case.
Would he follow me here?
A sharp thrill fizzed low in my belly. No one remotely close to his build was in the store, though. He’d be easy to spot, even without the mask. He just had a presence.
My phone buzzed again. I shouldn’t look—not when Gwen could pop up behind me at any moment. It was too risky. I’d just have to wait until later.
I definitely, absolutely wouldn’t look.
Okay, fine. I looked.
Tucking myself behind an end cap display of lotions that smelled even worse than the sugar scrubs, I snuck my phone out again.
I need to fill the hole in your wall. Does this afternoon work?
My stomach flipped. Yeah, being filled this afternoon would be fantastic, actually, I mentally quipped back.
My brain short-circuited, flooding my cheeks with heat.
What the actual fuck was wrong with me? I hadn’t been this horny in… a very long time. Even before, it wasn’t like I was raring to go at the tiniest innuendo from a hot alpha.
I’d lost my mind. He was dangerous—and more than likely on the no-fly list. One doesn't walk around wearing a mask in public without ending up on some kind of government watchlist. Also, he was probably really unattractive underneath—all those muscles were overcompensating for something.
Plus, he killed people. Which was the biggest red flag, of course. And he liked to climb in—and out—of windows at night, wearing said mask, carrying a knife.
A serial killer knife.
Clearly, there were plenty of reasons not to be thinking feral thoughts about him filling me with anything other than dread. Yet, there I was acting like he’d propositioned me again.
Which he absolutely hadn’t. And I would not think about what I would say if he repeated his offer.
It would be a no, obviously. Adamantly. Swiftly. Even if he begged me. Even if he got on his knees, those big, blue eyes peering up at me, pleading to let him… what? What would he beg for?
I need to taste you—
Nope. Not thinking about it. Because I’d say no.
Mmhmm.
And that was when I felt myself get slick for the second time in two years.
“Okay, what’s next? I thought about looking at those new round brush blow dryers before we go,” Gwen said, wandering back over. The basket in her hand looked significantly heavier than it had a few minutes ago.
Too stunned to answer, I just stared, unseeing.
She must’ve seen something in my expression, because her face softened. “Is everything alright? We can grab a bite before our next stop if you’re hungry.”
She reached for my shoulder to give me a comforting pat, but quickly drew her hand back, blinking rapidly. “Oh. Oh. I—uh—didn’t realize.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You didn’t say. I wouldn’t have made you come out with me. I could’ve shopped alone.”
Confused, I shook my head. “What are you—”
“Christ, who goes out in public in heat?” someone asked from the next aisle over. “Stinks to high heaven in here. Have some decency.”
Gwen shuffled from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable.
Wait. “Are they talking about me?” I whispered, a hint of hysteria creeping into my voice. They couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.
She cringed and shrugged a shoulder before nodding. “I think so, yeah.”
I lifted the collar of my shirt to sniff underneath, and all the blood drained from my face. I smelled like… Well, like an omega in heat. “Oh, my God!”
Mortified, I bolted for the exit. Thankfully, Gwen kept her head long enough to take our purchases to check out so we wouldn’t add shoplifting to the list of bat-shit crazy things that’d happened in the past twenty-four hours.
Once outside, I stood far enough from the door to avoid awkwardly hovering over people as they came and went.
Heat? Heat? How was that possible?
The Masked Man was right. It wasn’t a trick. We’d forged a connection spawned by artificial stimulants, and after two full years of emptiness, his presence was the key to unlocking the thing I’d thought was gone forever.
I couldn’t process it. In a daze, I paced back and forth on the brick-paved sidewalk, shaking the back of my shirt in the breeze, hoping to air myself out a bit. A mom glanced my way as she passed by before quickly ushering her two young daughters ahead of her into the store.
Great. Now I was the one scaring kids.
My phone vibrated again. I hadn’t replied to the Masked Man yet; he probably needed an answer about coming over later.
Are you alright?
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Was he watching me?
I looked around, eyes darting between every moderately tall and broad figure on the street. With its bespoke little shops and quaint bed-and-breakfast lodgings, Plover Bay was a popular tourist destination, and this was peak season. The shopping district was packed.
But I couldn’t find him anywhere. Still, I knew he was watching—I could feel it.
It’s creepy to stalk someone while they’re shopping.
…
Who says I am?
I rolled my eyes. Oddly, I wasn’t as afraid as I should’ve been.
I wouldn’t have gone so far as to say I wanted him to follow me or stalk me, but he was the only one who could fully understand what I felt right now.
Even if he didn’t seem like the type to have a heart-to-heart, it would be nice to not feel so alone.
Before I could respond, Gwen hustled out with a large, heavy-laden bag on each arm. “Right, let’s get you home.”
Guess that was it for our shopping day.
We piled everything into the trunk. Once buckled in, I rolled a window down to take the edge off my scent on the drive back to the estate.
“I’m sorry,” I said after a few minutes of quiet. “This is so embarrassing.”
She looked a bit constipated, like she was trying not to inhale too deeply. “No, you don’t need to apologize. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I mean, you’ve never taken leave or anything since we started working together, so I assumed…” she trailed off.
“That I was on heat blockers?” I prompted.
She nodded.
I sighed. “I’m not. Things just haven’t… happened, since—well, you know.”
Stopped at a red light, she looked over at me. “Like, you haven’t had a cycle at all, since?”
“Not at all.”
“Have you talked to that doctor I told you about?”
After I moved out of the shelter, Gwen gave me the contact information for a reproductive doctor who specialized in patients like me.
I nodded. “Yeah. She said that could happen, but it usually comes back before now. She also said it could be irregular and intense once it did come back. Which,” I gestured at myself in general, “it seems she was correct. I had no warning this was going to happen.”
That’s a lie. Okay, maybe someone did warn me. But believing him would’ve been ridiculous.
Except, it turned out he was right. Oops.
Her look was pensive. “Do you think this might have something to do with the person you definitely didn’t have in your apartment last night?”