Chapter 17 – Shiloh
Chapter Seventeen
Shiloh
A shrill ringing near my head makes me groan. Why did I feel like I’d been boxing a heavy weight champion in my sleep? My skin feels sticky and slick in places and my lips feel swollen and sore.
Cracking my eyes open before closing them again, I wince. It must be after 9, the way the sunlight is streaming in the windows and glaring off the fresh layers of snow outside. My head throbs, while I try to swallow. My mouth has this dry and dusty feeling. Did I eat dirt on a dare? I remember the whiskey.
And an entire bag of chips.
And something smokey.
Was it the weird side effect of the pre-heat? Fine, maybe Zion was right and I should lay off the suppressants for a bit. But it would have to wait until after this weekend. And even then, it would likely only be for a few weeks over the winter holidays. I wonder if I could do a term online…I make a mental note to check the college's procedures when I get home.
The ringing continues, like a siren inside my head. As I try to turn and find the source with my eyes shut, hand outstretched, I realize I’m pinned in place by something huge, hot and breathing on the back of my neck.
What. The. Fuck?
An arm tightens around my waist, as lips press against the back of my neck.
What?
Fuck.
No. No. No. No.
What have I done?
My stomach rolls as nausea washes over me.
Zale grumbles, and pulls away to find the phone amongst the mess from last night.
My skin feels tight, and grimy but finally the ringing stops.
“Hello?” Zale says, his voice thick with sleep. The deep tones making my cock twitch. Traitor. “Mmmm. Okay.”
I sit up slowly, giving myself a moment to adjust so that I don’t throw up. Glancing over at him, he’s rolled over and is holding the phone pressed to his ear, his other arm across his face. He’s still shirtless and I hate myself for being drawn to his toned body.
Confused, I realize I’m not wearing my shorts, only my T-shirt, and as I start looking for them, the quilt across Zale’s hips slides lower. He’s completely naked.
Fuck.
Those cum gutters…
That V…
No. Goddess, what’s wrong with me?
Tugging on my shorts quickly, I try not to show more of myself than I already have. I could have sworn I’d gone to sleep dressed after we’d messed around…the first (and second) time. Memories of my second desperate orgasm make me cringe, the heat haze making me crazed.
It’s remembering the early morning orgasm that sends me spiraling. Whispers of ‘let me take care of you’ and ‘baby I’m here’ make my chest ache. What had we done? I’d kissed him. Begged him to stay.
Swallowing, I get to my feet unsteadily and head into the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I find some paracetamol in the cupboard. I know it won’t get rid of this horrible feeling, like ants under my skin, but it might help take the edge off my whiskey headache.
Shame and guilt settle low in my stomach, heavy and pulsing. I was a horrible person. Millie…she didn’t deserve this.
Zale sits up with a groan, leaning against the edge of the sofa as he rubs his face with a sigh. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one feeling worse for wear after our stupid, reckless antics last night. “Yeah, see you soon.”
He looks around for his sweatpants, standing to tug them on and I look away, trying not to stare at his half-hard cock. Finding his vest and from where it had been tossed it last night, he pulls it on, clearly feeling tender as he makes slow stilted movements.
“That was Millie,” he says, approaching me slowly as I finish my water and hand him a bottle. Of course it was. My twin seemed to have a sixth sense about the worst or best times to call, depending on how you looked at it. “The plane has just landed, they’ll be here in an hour or so.”
Zale cracks the lid open and demolishes it in a few desperate gups as sits on a stool near the counter. The only noises in the cabin were us, breathing, too afraid to say anything.
Tapping my fingers on the worktop, I take a deep pained breath. Why did this ache in my chest make me want to scream? A second later the lights flicker on and a quiet hum as the cabin comes back to life.
“Oh, look. Power. Great.” I cleared my throat awkwardly, grateful that there was a distraction. “Well, I’m going to go shower, and maybe just get some more sleep.”
Memories of hot, salty cum painting my skin make me shiver. I needed to scrub myself raw, remove every trace of him.
Zale pushes to his feet and takes a step towards me, “Shiloh…”
I hold up my hand to stop him, I need to cut this off at the knees. “Nope.”
We’d been here before, crossed those invisible lines. But this was something next level and we needed to do more than ignore it. We needed to wipe it from our minds completely.
“We should talk.” His hand finds his hair and he tugs, drawing my eyes to the love bite I left on his neck. How could I have done that? Marked him as if he was mine? I was sick. Chewing the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, I wince, furious with myself.
His voice is raspy as he looks at me, blue eyes filled with so many warring emotions that I don’t have the capacity to unpack. “About last night…”
“No. We don’t need to talk about anything.” I grab myself another water, downing it. Was I trying to drown myself? Was that possible? Because right now, I wanted to be anywhere but here. “It was a very big mistake. We were drunk, angry, freaked out, there was weed and a whole load of regret. I’m the campus slut. There’s nothing more to talk about.”
“Shiloh,” he tries, his voice a whisper now.
My hand curls closed so that I’m just pointing my finger at him now. “Don’t you dare breathe a word of this to Millie and ruin her birthday.”
Oh shit.
It’s her birthday. How could I do this to her?
“Talk to me,” he pleads, trying to take another step towards me but I’ve already started walking away.
What a fucking mess I’ve made of everything.
Typical fucking Shiloh Vos. Always ruining everything.
The shower helps clear my head but I’m still over sensitive and off kilter, wracked with shame. The sooner this weekend is over, the better. Maybe I should just head back to my apartment early? Tell my parents I’m not feeling great.
Wiping away the steam on the bathroom mirror, I look at myself.
What was wrong with me?
My brown curls hang limp around my face, my skin is flushed and not just from the hot water. The mate mark looks bright and raw again as it throbs. Is it a side effect of the suppressants and the pre-heat haze? Is it making it impossible for the failed bond to fade? Whatever it is, I need it to be over. The pain was a reminder that I was shameless and disgusting.
Drying myself off, I get dressed carefully, choosing a black turtleneck, a pair of burgundy chinos and my glasses. I toss my clothes into the washer in the laundry room, rushing back to my bedroom to avoid Zale.
When I feel like I’ve calmed down I check myself over again. Standing before the mirror once again, I swallow two more pills and I let my walls fall back into place. I was Shiloh Vos. Loner. Beta. Bitter. I didn’t need him. I didn’t need anyone.
Opening the door, I slam into a broad, wide chest.
“Oooft!”
Arms come around me, attempting to stop me stumbling backwards but I push him away with a frown so that for a few moments, we’re grappling with one another. “Why are you lingering outside the bathroom, Blackwood?”
He rubs the back of his neck, and I sigh at his anxious gesture. “I was waiting for you.”
Zale leans in and inhales, features morphing into something that makes me think he might be able to smell my pheromones. My heart rate picks up, has he realized my secret? I mean, we hadn’t had anal sex, but he’d still had his fingers inside me. Did he realize I was slick for him?
“What’s that face for?” I ask, my chest tightening as I try to shift away.
“You don’t smell right,” he replies, inhaling again. When he’s this close, I can pick up mixed undertones clinging to him like smoke after a bonfire.
“Say what you mean,” I swallow. Please don’t say it. Don’t call me out as an omega, I silently beg. Unsure that my emotions can take the extra stress right now.
His brow creases, ocean blue eyes narrowed as he takes another deep breath, his hand reaching out to land on my waist. “You don’t smell like me anymore.”
There’s an odd hint of disappointment in his words, which makes zero sense as he tries to press his nose against the curve of my neck but I step back.
I’m not his.
What happened should never have happened.
He doesn’t even like me. I’m ‘not worth the effort’ I remind myself, clinging onto those words when he looks at me with that possessive glint in his eyes.
Yesterday’s soft, vulnerable Zale wasn’t real. That version of him couldn’t be. My stomach churns because I know that if he really wanted me, if he was genuine…then he would be impossible to resist.
“And why would that be, Zale?” I laugh, the sound hollow to my ears. “Maybe because you’re dating my sister.”
My words seem to hit him like a slap to the face and he straightens. Good. We both needed to remember exactly what the situation was here before we made it any worse. His mouth is drawn into a tight line, and just as he goes to say something, voices interrupt the intense staring competition we’re competing in.
“Zale! Where are you?” Millie calls out as the front door swings open with a bang. We both step towards the landing balcony, and look down at the small group that’s just arrived.
Millie spots us immediately and bounds up the stairs, launching herself into his arms with a loud squeal. He catches her, big strong arms coming around her waist and I try not to feel bitter about it.
He fucking catches her.
“I missed you,” she purrs, burying her face into his neck, inhaling his scent like a good little omega partner. His partner.
Goddess, why was I jealous?
He wasn’t mine. Now if only my traitorous brain could get on board with that fact, then it would all be smooth sailing.
“Yeah.” He swallows, trying to catch my gaze but I avoid looking at him as I focus on my twin. “How was Crest Haven?”
Millie chuckles, “Oh it was amazing, until this jackass got in trouble.”
She nods her head towards Evans and the others, who’ve come upstairs to start claiming bedrooms. They’re loud and looking a little tired, but they still seem to be having a great time. Evans is sporting a colorful assortment of bruises, but he’s grinning.
“Let’s hope he’s learned his lesson,” Sadie teases, nudging him with her shoulder. Her lip curls when she spots me, but she says nothing else as they dip into one of the bedrooms down the end of the hall.
“Shiloh,” Millie turns her emerald gaze to me, lips pursed as she clings to Zale like a limpet. I want to rip her away from him, my fingers twitching with the thought. She looks tired too, but good in her jeans and a low-cut top, her breasts squashed against his chest as she clings to Zale. Mine. “I know you’re not really a people person, but I hope you were nice to Zale. Were you rude?”
I was more than nice to him. I’d licked cum off his abs. You couldn’t get more agreeable than that.
Tucking my petty thoughts away, I take a deep breath. “I barely spoke to him, so…rudeness averted.”
His eyes are on me again, burning into my flesh but I focus on my sister, giving her a pathetic half-shrug. She didn’t need to know that I’d given him more kisses than words. That I’d used my mouth, not to insult him, but to swallow his desperate moans. That was our secret to bury.
“If you’re all here, I’m gonna go call Bell.”
She looks at me properly, giving me the once over as I stand there. I’m glad I tossed all my clothes in the washer already, removing the lingering scent of last night.
“Are you going to join us later? We were thinking of cooking something on the firepit now that the storm’s passed.”
I turn to look out of the window-wall, and see the day is brightening up, even with the soft flurry of snow falling.
Leaning in, Millie mockingly whispers in Zale’s ear, “Mom says I’m not allowed to let him hide upstairs with his cartoons all weekend.”
“Maybe,” I say with a head tilt, speaking before Zale can add anything. I’m not sure I can handle him making fun of me too right now. “I’m not feeling too great to be honest, I’m going to nap.”
Millie nods, but she’s already turned her attention back to her boyfriend. She waves her hand dismissing me, “Well, don’t let us keep you from your lover.”
As I turn away and open my bedroom door, I hear her say “Oh, that’s a nasty bruise. Did you get that in practice?”
I shouldn’t feel smug about the marks I left on his skin.
That would make me an awful person.
The worst.
But I do.