Chapter 51 Wyatt
Wyatt
As we stand on the sidewalk outside the Café, the crisp winter air is suddenly filled with the scent of peppermint.
It's creamy, decadent, and sweeter than anything I’ve ever caught from my Sugarplum before.
It’s warm and heavy, like melted candy stirred into hot chocolate, and it hits me square in the chest.
My alpha surges to the surface, instincts clawing their way up until it takes everything in me not to lose control and drop into rut right there on Main Street. Harlan isn’t as lucky. His eyes go black, his breathing rough and uneven. That kind of dominance we can’t afford in public.
“Sparkles!” Evander barks, sharp and commanding before I can.
Harlan jerks as if struck. His nostrils flare once, then his pupils shrink back to normal, control snapping back into place. He exhales hard, pulls Logan, still looking a little wide-eyed, into a brief, grounding hug.
Evander’s ringed fingers find Rose’s chin, tilting her face up gently. “Candy baby, can you hear us?” he asks softly.
She lets out a low, keening sound that vibrates straight through me. An omega whine. Her pupils are blown, her lips parted, skin flushed with heat. But this—this isn’t just another spike. The scent is richer, darker, laced with something primal and sweet.
“Is she…?” Logan trails off, voice hoarse.
“In heat,” I confirm, my voice rough as gravel. I’ve helped a friend through a heat before, but this, my mate in heat, is something else entirely. The need to protect her, comfort her, and claim her all at once is nearly unbearable.
“We need to get her out of here,” I rasp, realizing fast that a perfuming omega in heat is a walking invitation for disaster. Every alpha within scenting range will feel her. She’s vulnerable, and she’s ours to keep safe.
Just as we’re about to guide her to the car, the Café door bursts open and four omegas rush out. My Sugarplum’s friends. Sunny in the lead, the one who called Harlan in the first place. Their scents mingle in the cold air. All honey, apple, rain, and books.
“Is she—?” Clara asks, worry tightening her voice.
“Yes,” Harlan growls, his tone too rough. The dominance ripples out, and the omegas instinctively step back. He blinks, swallows, and forces it down. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Cali says quickly, voice steady. Her hand rests on her round belly.
“We can cover anything that comes up around town for her,” Sunny says firmly, glancing toward the Café before giving us a look that’s all quiet trust. “Go. Get her somewhere safe.”
Snow starts to fall again, soft flakes catching in Rose’s hair as Harlan lifts her into his arms. The peppermint scent deepens, wrapping around all of us like a promise, like Christmas and need and love tangled into one unbearable ache.