Chapter 7
Chapter seven
How is Your Control?
“What are you going to wear?”
I jumped at Cole’s question and turned to face her. She stood at the open bedroom door.
“You gave me a fright,” I told her.
“You scare easily,” she countered with a hint of a grin, like she had scared me on purpose.
I didn’t want to speak with her. I was exhausted.
I hadn’t been able to sleep at all the previous night.
Anxiety scratched at the inside of my chest, haunting my dreams. Dreams of chase, of burning, of red, under a full moon and the wooziness of blood loss.
Until I’m falling into darkness and jolting awake into darkness.
“You could knock,” I said.
“The door was open,” she replied.
I turned away from her and back to my choices.
Chloe had silently filled my closet with clothes.
She included a number of cocktail dresses, which made me wonder what sort of events she thought I might be attending until I brought myself back to the task at hand.
Heaven’s Bar was not a cocktail dress location.
Cole cleared her throat.
The weather was cold, a little wet; it had been raining earlier in the day. Heaven’s Bar was casual, but I didn’t want to wear jeans and a tee; if I had to go to a full moon party, at least I got to dress myself. I didn’t want to stand out, but I did want to feel confident.
Another throat clear, this time with clear irritation.
I decided on a pair of dark brown flares and a white halter top.
“Harriet,” Cole said.
I would borrow Cole’s leather bomber jacket. It would complete the outfit, along with the white sneakers.
Cole knocked on the doorframe. I stopped folding the halter top.
“Why are you ignoring me?” Cole asked.
“Why do you think?” I answered.
She growled, and when I turned to look at her, I was frozen by her glare.
“It’s not healthy to go so long without shifting,” she told me, starting the argument again.
“It’s less than the risk of shifting,” I said, looking away to break eye contact. It was too difficult to speak with the anger I felt when she was staring me down like that. All brooding, with loose curls escaping her ponytail. She had no right to be so attractive and so wrong at the same time.
“You’ll be with me,” she said, no less frustrated.
“What? Are you going to look after me? What if you can’t even control yourself? Have you forgotten what happened yesterday?” I asked, turning back to the clothes to fold at the foot of my bed.
“You don’t have to worry about my control,” she said from directly behind me.
I took a sharp breath in fright and spun around to be met with Cole barely an inch from me.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She leaned over me.
There was no space to move away from her; the bed was directly behind me.
Cole moved closer.
I sat down on the edge of the bed.
“I have full control of myself,” she told me.
The air felt softer, sweeter, lighter, like I needed more to fill my lungs, to stop me floating away.
“How is your control, Harriet?” she asked seriously.
Pheromones.
“You think…” I inhaled deeply and fought the urge to close my eyes.
“I think… what, puppy?” she asked.
I leaned forward.
“That I can’t resist your pheromones,” I said.
She pressed forward, leaning over me, and I leaned back, back and back until my back hit the bed, and Cole was holding herself over me, her arms at either side of my head.
“Can you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
I couldn’t breathe without breathing her in. My head swam with the heady scent.
I twisted away.
“Stop,” I said, speaking against the quilt.
The weight of her hands on either side of me lifted from the bed.
The scent of Cole dissipated.
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t believe what she had done. I couldn’t believe the impact she had on me.
It was humiliating.
Silence lasted long enough that I wondered if she had left.
“Are you okay?” Cole asked. She was still in the room.
“Leave me alone,” I told her, my voice weak and as pathetic as I felt.
“I’ll see you downstairs,” she said, and I heard her steps as she left.
Slowly, I sat up when I finally inhaled a breath that wasn’t contaminated with Cole.
How had she been able to do that to me?
I’d never been so overwhelmed by any pheromones before.
I’d heard how some alphas spoke about us and seen the porn.
I always thought it was an exaggeration, a performance to pet an alpha’s ego, which was only confirmed to me when Ashford had tried to bombard me with his pheromones early in his claim.
I had gagged.
But Cole—what she did was unacceptable.
It was so much more powerful than in her office.
I rubbed my palms on my thighs and breathed in more clean air.
If she had wanted to… I couldn’t have stopped her… I wasn’t sure how long I’d have been able to try to resist before I’d give in… did I want to give in?
No.
I stood.
Cole was the same as any other alpha, throwing her weight around, taking whatever she wanted. She was even willing to risk my life by forcing me to shift. For what? She didn’t care about me. She didn’t even know me.
I didn’t know what she wanted from forcing me to shift, but it had nothing to do with my well-being.
I grabbed the makeup bag from on top of the dresser—Chloe really did think of everything—and headed to the bathroom for better light in the mirror.
When I descended the stairs, I was pleased that my efforts had clearly been recognised. Cole was sitting on the stool near the door, pulling on a pair of boots, when she looked up to see me and froze mid-action to watch me.
I smiled. If she wanted to play games, I would play.
“Are you almost ready?” she asked eventually as I reached the bottom of the stairs and she turned away from me, focusing a little too hard on tying her shoelace.
“Yeah,” I answered.
She finished with the shoelace and stood. She was wearing brown boots, dark blue jeans, a grey tee, and an oversized shearling aviator jacket. Her dark curls were free and defined. She was feminine, and yet everything about her was confident, dominant alpha.
I looked away towards the shoe rack.
“Darren is waiting for us,” she said as I forcefully slid my white trainers on without untying, only to retie the laces.
“Okay,” I said and reached for the leather bomber jacket that I shrugged on.
Cole walked to the front door, her hand on the handle.
“Harriet,” she said in such a way that demanded my attention, like a schoolteacher chastising with your name alone.
I met her gaze.
“Tonight, you represent Pack Sandstorm and me in public. Regardless of your current mood, I need you to remember that,” she told me, and I knew it was very much a warning.
“I’m not going to do anything that would harm the reputation of Pack Sandstorm,” I reassured her.
She growled slightly.
“I don’t like the way you said that,” she said.
“I can’t help how you feel,” I replied, enjoying the way I saw her jaw tense.