Chapter 19
Ariana
In that other life, maybe I could have taken their offer to go to their place. At least to wait out the days of Amy’s heat.
But what use does thinking about another life have? I’m living in this one.
So, I decline their reiterated invitations.
I wonder how they live, if they’re messy or clean.
It’s nothing more than curiosity, it doesn’t matter.
My alphas would never allow me to go to theirs and I don’t want to ponder the punishment for it.
Worse than being sent to bed without dinner, presumably.
Turning around at the door once they walk me home, I ask if their first offer from before still stands. If it might be possible for me to go on walks with them again, if they don’t mind. The chorus of agreement the request receives is reassuring.
Knowing what’s coming doesn’t make you ready for it. Even though I’ve mentally steeled myself, walking into the apartment nearly sends me to my knees. The smell of caramel hangs heavier than ever.
There was no way to prepare myself for this assault on my senses. If I’d thought my perfuming the hallways before Amy’s arrival was intense, her scent now is pure, concentrated sugar. But I can’t turn around and leave. The only way out of heat is through.
It’s the slogan the Office of Omega Affairs reiterates every conference on health. I just thought the saying applied to your own heat. Not someone else’s.
Her bedroom door is closed, but it doesn’t muffle the noises of pure filth.
The bed creaking, its frame hitting the wall, grunting, flesh on flesh, Amy’s loud moans.
The sounds are like a knife, lodging themselves between my ribs and twisting, then traveling higher until the blade’s been driven into where the feeling of my bond hums in my chest.
I move automatically, like a robot that’s been programmed.
Walk mechanically to my bedroom, close the door behind me.
Hide the Coates pack’s gift under the bed, where no other omegas with ill intentions might find it, unwrap and eat one of the sandwiches they pressed into my hands without tasting a thing.
It’s only once I enter the bathroom that I pause. Evan had placed a crown made of flowers and grass onto my head after we ate the cake. I’d forgotten about it until now. I remove it with great care, making sure not to bend a petal out of shape.
Pointlessly, I realize. The flowers will wilt regardless.
I stare at them, trying to memorize their shape before nature runs its course.
I’ll never remember all of them. I can still picture Evan’s hands quickly tying them together, then slowing down as he patiently tried to teach me how to recreate it.
In the hands of a good teacher, I picked it up quickly. Nico followed suit shortly after. It took Sebastian longer. Jason’s attempt turned out a bit more unsightly. It resembled the crude nests of the pigeons that crowd this city more than it did a crown.
I gave him mine, but Nico managed to snap his soon after. It was nice to have something to do with my hands besides washing dishes, so I made him another one.
My hands find the petals now, tracing over them. The flowers will wilt, and I may forget them, but I think I’ll remember the gentle way Evan’s large hands had handled their delicate stems.
Or the happiness in their scents when I’d arrived, the sight of four alphas leaning their heads down so I could place flower crowns on them. Sitting and watching the sunset with them, icing smeared on our faces, knees touching on the cramped blanket.
I think this will be a birthday to remember. For more reasons than one. It’s different, and isn’t that what I wished for?
A faint note of caramel catches my attention, breaking me from the reprieve of my daydream. Even here, alone in what’s supposed to be my room, I can’t escape the scent of her heat.
Stripping, I let the shower run on its highest setting. Once my skin has been scalded thoroughly, I don’t bother to dry my hair or clothe myself again. I sink into my bed naked and curl into the nest. It doesn’t comfort me.
The sky outside has gotten dark, but the sounds coming from Amy’s heat don’t show any signs of stopping. I shove a pillow over my head, press it down to cover my ears. I lay awake in this position, alone.
At some point, night makes way for day. Midnight has to be long gone, I realize. I’ve turned twenty eight.
The days bleed together. I stay in my room as if confined. At one point, the door creaks open and someone peeks in. It’s hard to tell who, when they’re covered in Amy’s pheromones. I close my eyes and pretend to sleep until it shuts again.
Then I creep to my feet and turn the lock.
They’re going to let the smell in, opening it like that.
Aside from that, I barely bother getting out of bed.
If I felt exhausted before, now I just feel hollow.
Once the protein bars in my nightstand run out, I shift to eating the day old sandwiches from the picnic.
When I’m not disassociating, I ruminate on the Coates pack’s words from our picnic. I don’t know if I love my pack. I don’t know if they love me. They say they do. But like Sebastian said, does love have to be this hard? It’s easier to dissociate again than feel the pain from thinking about it.
It’s a blur how much time passes, but the heat has to break eventually. I’m drifting in and out of sleep when I hear the doorknob shake. It stalls, locked. The sound of footsteps grows distant and I assume that’s the end of that business.
But then I hear the distinct click of a key sliding into the lock. The door swings open as Ian enters. Cole peers in through the doorway behind him. The hallway light spills in, making me squint in my half asleep state.
“You’re up early,” Cole comments, his voice soft with surprise.
Early. I glance at the window. The sky’s still dark, barely touched by dawn. When they realize I’m actually somewhat awake, Ian flicks the overhead light on. They shuffle in one after another, closing the door behind them.
I blink hard against the sudden brightness, raising a hand to shield my face. As my vision adjusts, I get a proper look at them. Despite the early hour, they’re already dressed in suits and ties. It must be a weekday, then. I lost track of the days a while ago.
Cole comes closer, perching on the edge of my bed. His brown hair clings to his forehead, still damp. He’s showered, but underneath the clean scent of soap and apples, a second smell lingers.
After nearly ten years together, I’ve gotten familiar with the smell of sex that clings to them after every heat. Only this time, it’s accompanied with something sweeter than my chamomile.
It makes my stomach turn.
Cole’s hands go to his tie, loosening it with practiced fingers. There’s a small, tired smile on his lips and purple bags under his crinkled eyes. With the tie’s knot undone, he looks at me expectantly.
I stare at him blankly. It’s like this is just another morning for him. He looks back at me warmly enough, but expecting me to eagerly jump up and do our old morning ritual feels cruel right now.
He’s sitting in my nest, my sanctuary, with the scent of another woman’s heat on him. After leaving me for her on my birthday.
I pull my blanket higher instead, drawing it up over my head, shielding my eyes from the glaring light.
“Ariana?” The apple scented man says my name sweetly, his voice hushed. “Are you okay?”
I give a noncommittal grunt from under the blanket.
“Happy birthday,” he continues. “Twenty eight! Did you like your gift?”
Another grunt. There’s a suffocating silence in response. If Cole’s weight wasn’t still pushing the bed down on one side, I would have assumed they left.
“Take that thing off your head and use your words like an adult.” Ian’s command makes me jump, having gone days without its pressure.
Extracting myself from the blanket, I stare at them once more. “The gift? Which part of it?” I mumble after a pause, voice hoarse from not being used in so long. “The bracelet I’m allergic to? Or when you left me to have sex with someone else?”
Cole’s smile falters. His hands drop from where they lingered on his tie. He glances back at Ian with uncertainty written across his face and scent, then at me again. .
“I’m sorry, Ariana. We’ll make it up to you. We’re all yours now.”
There’s another pause. They’re waiting for me to respond. When I don’t, Cole continues.
“We can all sleep together tonight. How does that sound?”
“When you still smell like her?” The lack of sleep over the last few days makes my words come out unrestrained, without consideration towards their reactions.
“You think I want us to cuddle together like one big happy family after that?” Evan’s words find their way out of my mouth.
“You chose her over me. On my birthday.”
“It was her first heat in a new environment. Be reasonable about this.” Even in my tired state, I can tell Ian’s unimpressed by my attitude.
Funny. I wouldn’t consider myself unreasonable. It’s like a new light has been shed on my pack after my picnic with the Coates. I stare at them like they’re strangers to me, not men I’ve known for a decade.
It’s not hesitation that makes me take the time to smack the center of my pillow, then lean it against the headboard. There’s something I want to ask. Putting my weight on my hands, I sit up to look at Ian properly.
We hold each other’s gazes, neither speaking. The buttons of his shirt have been fixed to the top of his collar, where his black tie is knotted cleanly. Eyes rising, I study his neck, seeking the marred flesh of my bite, the sole blemish on his otherwise immaculate appearance.
“Did you mark her?”
His jaw clenches. An idea flashes through my mind, the date of Amy’s bonding anniversary being the same as the day I was born. I think she would like that. Which would take precedence for celebration? A pointless question. I already have an idea of the answer.
It’s not Ian who responds, but Cole again. “Of course not! We wouldn’t do that.”