Chapter 11
eleven
that one fucker
On our way home.
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Obedient as ever, Maximus doesn’t make a sound. Instead, he eyes me over the side of our back-patio table. I’m sure the damn thing is a priceless antique, worth more than most people’s cars, but I only see the way the white metal has rusted around the edges.
Sitting down, my mastiff is just tall enough to peer across the eroding surface. Judging me.
Hell, I can’t blame him. I judge me, too.
I’ve never understood why my Alpha allows me to speak to animals, but won’t let me form words around people. I’m sure Atlas would have his theories… if I ever actually admitted that I converse with my damn dog.
Stuffing down my embarrassment, I bend to set today’s shallow saucer of milk on the ground. Finn would have a conniption. Our china probably belonged to a countess, or something, but that doesn’t stop me from leaving it in the gravel.
It’s almost sundown, which means the abandoned hairball I saw out here a few days ago will wake up soon.
I assume.
I didn’t Google kittens’ sleeping habits or anything.
Maximus huffs through his nose, practically rolling his eyes at me. I’m not sure how, but he always knows when I’m lying to myself. Most of the time before I do.
“Fuck off,” I grumble, cheeks heating. “It’s just a cat. Feeding one cat isn’t going to hurt anybody.”
Maximus blinks, glowering. Yeah, sure.
“Don’t tell Atlas,” I mutter.
He’s allergic. At least, that’s what he told Gideon.
Thinking about my packmates brings my anxiety screeching back. I hate to admit it, but maybe I should have gone with Atlas, after all.
It’s almost sunset. They’ve been gone for much longer than I expected, and the only message I got was from Finn, about an hour ago.
On our way home.
That’s it. Four words. I swear to God, the asshole has never been so succinct in his life.
Of all the days for him to suddenly decide he’s going to stop being chatty as hell.
Maximus’s ears prick, the right one turning toward the front drive. My Alpha mimics his low warning growl.
I don’t know why he’s been so edgy all day. Possibly because of that stupid party last night. Or due to the only other alphas in the house leaving me alone with Gideon.
My dream last night probably didn’t help. Neither did waking up to a spontaneous orgasm I couldn’t control.
My Alpha would ordinarily rage about that for weeks. Not today, though. Today, he’s…
Off.
Twitchy. Treading circles into the darkest depths of me, occasionally flinging around urgent looks I can’t quite decipher. Like he’s trying to prepare me for something.
Maximus agrees. His posture is taut and watchful as the crunch of tires on pea gravel finally reaches my ears. My spine snaps straight. Goosebumps sweep down my arms.
Goddamn it.
Another omega?
“Maximus,” I bark. “Inside.”
My dog may be too smart for his own good, but he’s also well-trained. With an indignant chuff, he turns and lopes toward the French doors connected to the patio. I shut them before trudging around the side of the manor.
Now my Alpha is pissed.
There are only two reasons they would have someone unfamiliar with them—and I’m not sure which is worse. Either Finn stumbled across some new conquest… or they found the woman the Blackwood Pack has been searching for, and she isn’t actually a beta.
Either way, they should have taken her to a hotel—or, in the second case, a hospital. What are these assholes thinking, bringing another omega here? Don’t they know this is hard enough for me as it is?
Having Gideon’s unmasked scent around is a daily reminder of exactly why I go to such lengths to avoid omegas. Their perfume ignites violent urges that make my skin crawl and sexual impulses that feel like betrayals.
I’d never admit it, but my reaction to them is the only thing that scares the hell out of me. What if I lose my shit and take a stab at someone?
This one.
Because whoever it is smells like my worst nightmare.
I… don’t hate it. Which means I need to get away from it.
I know everyone thinks I’m crazy. Cracked. Traumatized beyond any sort of normalcy. All of that is true, but it’s not the most pressing reason I avoid every omega I can, or why they turn me into a raving beast.
It’s because none of them are her.
Daisy.
Memories flood my mind. Images of graceful, bony fingers. Ruffling my hair. Curling her pinky around mine. Glowing eyes, so full of hurt.
Gone. My fault. All my fault.
God.
How can I even let myself breathe near this other omega’s perfume? I should go inside. Lock my door. Run on the treadmill until I puke or pass out, or both.
Our Audi speeds up to the manor, screeching to a halt. Atlas immediately leaps from the driver’s seat, rushing ten paces from the car before he bends over and presses his hands to his knees, gulping fresh air like he’s been poisoned with noxious gas.
My body jerks forward, automatically drawn toward my suffering packmate. I barely have time to react before he suddenly straightens, gazing across our overgrown front acre with dazed, unseeing eyes.
Disbelief and pain pull at all his features. I don’t understand.
What the fuck happened?
What is he trying to get control of?
As if in answer to my unasked questions, a maelstrom of scents pours from the open vehicle. Swamping the space between the car and my patch of gravel driveway.
The strange omega’s perfume is the strongest, for me. Of fucking course. Deep, golden sweetness. Honey—layered with a delicate floral essence that makes me dizzy and weak.
Holy fucking—
Atlas hits next. The absolute darkest, burnt-to-shit alpha musk nails me square in the face. It’s really fucking horrible. The worst scent I’ve ever experienced—which is really saying something, considering where I’ve been.
This isn’t just physical pain or mental suffering—it’s some unholy combination of the two. Jacked up with enough shame and underlying arousal to make it lethal.
Jesus Christ. What the fuck did they do?
Something unspeakable, I’d guess… if Finn’s citrus-and-herb essence wasn’t positively glowing. The bright essence is so strong—so happy—it knocks me back on my heels. Or maybe that’s just the way it blends with the strange omega’s perfume.
Because goddamn.
My canines throb as my knot twitches to life. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I can feel the blood in my veins. It pumps, hot and thick, pooling in places that trigger and arouse me in equal measure.
No. Panic rears high, eclipsing every other thought or feeling. No. I can’t have another—
Mate.
My Alpha rages against the word. Because his mate is gone. Dead. My fault.
She was the one.
So why can’t I turn away right now?
Frozen in horror, my mouth hangs open as warm evening wind blows more of the swirled scents over me.
My body jolts on a shudder. Atlas jerks, too, snapping out of his reverie.
With wooden grace, he turns on his heel and faces the house.
I blink at his miserable expression and the green tinge of his skin, still too stricken to move…
Until I hear a whimper.
A whine.
My Omega.
I’ll never forgive myself for even thinking the words. That can’t be true, I tell my Alpha frantically, backing away. Stumbling over numb feet. This isn’t real.
Have I finally snapped?
Would anyone even be surprised?
Normally, Atlas would notice me spinning out and issue a much-needed bark to snap me out of it. But he’s too busy staring beyond me, to the threshold of our crumbling manor.
At Gideon.