Black Market Prep #2
The intrusive thought is wildly embarrassing, but I can’t help myself. I picture the alpha’s thick, heavy knot—the kind I’ve only seen in pictures—popping so deep inside me it hurts.
Would he pull my hair?
Fuck me on all fours?
Make me beg?
The thought makes me hum, a low, involuntary sound that vibrates in my throat.
Both Milo and Anton go quiet. Then they both turn and look at me. Heat floods my face, scorching hot as I jerk my gaze up, mortified.
"You say something, Elle?" Milo asks.
I shake my head frantically, forcing a smile that I’m sure looks tight. "No. Just...hungry."
"I know it’s getting late," Anton says, looking right at me. I want to look away, but I can’t. My body won’t allow me. "But I really need you to process these tonight."
“Of course," I say. "I completely understand.” My voice comes out steady, which feels like a small miracle.
Milo reaches for the top box, and my eyes catch the corner of a shipping label on the side. My heart kicks up and I try like crazy to keep my face under control.
I can’t believe it.
There's never a label on the boxes that come in.
Every shipment we’ve processed in six months has come in unmarked boxes with lot numbers scrawled in marker and nothing else. But this one has a proper shipping label, slightly torn at the edges, with the partial name of a pharmacy printed across the top.
Montclare Family Pharmacy
But I don’t see an address.
That’s okay.
I'll add it to the notebook tonight.
“These boxes look like shit,” Milo says as he opens a crumpled lid.
“It is what it is,” Anton says flatly. “The shipments don’t always come easy.”
Milo continues to complain as I reach for the next box, and freeze. The box at the bottom of the stack is dark at the corners, the cardboard soft and warped where amber liquid has soaked through.
Amber.
They're heat suppressants.
My heart leaps as I point a gloved finger at the mess. "That looks like it might be damaged," I say, trying so damn hard to sound casual.
Both men stop talking, and Milo leans over the table. "Yeah," he frowns. "Something definitely broke." He looks at Anton. "This never happened when I was doing the pickups. Whoever they've got running collections now needs to learn how to pack a box."
Anton steps closer, bracing one hand on the table's edge as he leans in. The metal surface shifts faintly under his weight. "Shit." He lifts all the other boxes and I pull the stained one toward me.
I touch the flap to open it, then stop.
A fine spray of dried blood, dark and flaking, is arced across the top of the cardboard. It looks almost like a cough, or a sneeze.
Milo notices the look on my face, then he sees the blood. "I'll get it," he says, reaching out.
"Don't," I say, a little too sharply. “You're not wearing gloves.”
He pulls back, looking a little sheepish. "Right. Sorry."
I take a breath and ease the flap open slowly, angling the box so neither of them can see inside clearly. "There's broken glass," I say. "Can someone grab the tweezers?"
Milo moves first, toward the supply shelf behind Anton. The second Anton turns to help, I move.
My hand darts into the box, fingers closing around the cool, smooth glass of an intact vial.
I snatch it and shove it into my waistband, tucking it securely into the thick, padded fabric of my slick-panties.
The cold vial presses against the skin right below my belly button, a shocking chill against my feverish skin.
A wave of fear washes over me. If it gets too warm, it will lose its potency, but there's nothing I can do about that right now.
“I’m not seeing them.” Milo turns back to me, then laughs. “Uh, Pérez?” He points. “The tweezers are literally right next to you.”
They are. Sitting right beside the magnetic stir plate.
I force a short laugh, pretending I didn't know. "Oh. Sorry. It’s been a long day." I make a show of opening the box fully and examining the contents. "Two broken vials," I announce, then frown, "and it looks like one is missing."
Anton lets out a low growl, clearly displeased. The sound rockets straight through me, making my whole body thrum with a terrifying mix of fear and a sickening pull of desire.
While my body's reaction is horrifying, a small part of me is thankful I'm not slicking myself yet. That means I still have time. I can inject myself and stop this heat from progressing any further…I hope.
"What are they?" Anton asks, his voice clipped.
I lift one of the intact bottles, holding it up to the light. "Endocrine Regulator XR." I glance up at him. "Heat suppressants."
"Dammit." He drags a hand over his face. "We're already low on those." He straightens. "Fine. Log the loss. I'll handle it."
"Can I…" I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. "Can I go to the bathroom before we start on the new boxes?"
Anton's eyes narrow. “No, Pérez.” His tone isn’t mean, but it isn’t exactly warm. “You know the rules. You can’t leave the room before everything is processed and locked up.” He pushes the other boxes toward me. “You'll have to hold it.”
I nod, trying not to look too disappointed. “Sorry.” I bow my head. “I forgot.”
Anton’s gaze lingers on me a second too long before he exhales through his nose. “Get it done.” He looks at Milo. “We need this shit ready to go for tomorrow. We’re all working late,” his voice shifts into boss mode. “I even had to cancel my date with Maya.”
Milo quickly promises we’ll get everything done, then Anton turns and leaves, taking his intense scent with him.
The second the lock clicks into place, Milo leans in and whispers, "That's such bullshit. One bathroom break the entire shift? Do you actually need to go, because I can—"
“I'm good,” I say quickly. “It’s not an emergency.”
And honestly, it's probably for the best. I would’ve needed to dig a spare needle out of my purse to inject the meds, and that would look suspicious.
I pick up the next vial and get back to work.
The small amber bottle sits cold against my skin. I try not to think too hard about what happens if the one pressed against my stomach degrades before I can use it. I'm on the pharmacy floor tomorrow, working at the market.
If my heat hits out there, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hundreds of alphas, my secret will definitely get out.
Or worse…
I might not make it out alive.