Prologue Heated Turbulence
~ELIZABETH~
“Don’t you dare go into Heat on this plane, Abercrombie!”
Holmes hisses, his voice low but sharp enough to pierce the claustrophobic tension in the tiny airplane bathroom.
His breath is hot against my neck, while my hands are still pressed on top of his eyes, as if to stop him from seeing my body, when he’s honestly seen me butt naked after these last chaotic weeks of utter madness.
All of this is an atrocity of absolute chaos.
“Then stop touching me!” I snap back, though my voice trembles more than I’d like.
Stop touching me? As if Holmes would ever listen to a damn order I’d give him.
He’s far too cocky and ruthless for that shit.
Like listening to anyone’s opinion or request.
Holmes doesn’t even pretend to heed my warning.
Instead, his hips press harder against mine, his groin grinding against my soaked panties with deliberate precision. The scent-blocking material isn’t doing shit at this point. I’ve soaked through them so thoroughly that they’re ineffective in being a savior in this unexpected situation.
Hell, it’s contributing to my obvious demise here.
I bite back a moan, and I have to move my hands from his face so my nails can dig into the cheap plastic wall behind me, instead of into his flesh. Anything to try to anchor myself and not use him as a form of stability.
His lips quirk into a smug smirk, that infuriating one he always wears when he knows he’s in control. And God, I hate him for it. Hate how he always gets under my skin, how his scent—a maddening mix of cedar and spice—is making my head spin.
Hate that, no matter how much I despise him, my body doesn’t seem to care.
"I'm not the one dripping slick, my Rebellious Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice still mocking but with an undercurrent of genuine concern that makes my heart stutter. "Your body seems to like my touch just fine."
I glare at him, but the heat building inside me makes it hard to maintain my anger.
"You're an ass," I manage, though the insult loses its bite when my breath hitches, his thigh pressing against me in a way that makes my knees buckle.
"And you're a brat," he returns, but his smile has lost its predatory edge, becoming something more intimate. "But that doesn't seem to stop you from grinding against me like you want more."
The warmth spreading through my body is different now—not just the uncomfortable heat from before, but something deeper, more primal. My Omega instincts are screaming at me to submit, to let go, to trust.
And that's what terrifies me most.
"This isn't happening," I whisper, memories of my last Heat threatening to surface. "This can't be happening."
"It is," he says simply, but his hands gentle on my hips, grounding rather than restraining.
“Why aren’t you stopping yourself?” I fire back, my voice sharper than I feel.
He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even try.
Instead, he closes the distance, his mouth crashing into mine with a ferocity that knocks the air from my lungs. His kiss is angry, almost punishing, like he hates me as much as I hate him.
And maybe he does.
But that doesn’t stop me from kissing him back, my fingers tangling in his hair as if I can’t bear to let go. He growls against my lips, his teeth scraping against my bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. His hands slide lower, gripping my ass and pulling me flush against him.
I can feel the hard length of him pressing against me, and it’s enough to make me gasp, my head falling back against the wall.
We hate each other.
Absolutely despise one another.
And yet, here we are, 37,000 feet above, making out in a cramped airplane bathroom like we can’t get enough.
Like we haven’t been the perfect set of cats and dogs, scratching and biting at one another’s throats since the day I walked into his office and saw who the leader of the Tainted Trinity was.
As though he’s lost track of the fact that I’m a Forgotten Omega and he’s one of the untouchable Alphas who sees me as nothing but a complication in this equation that should have ended after one semester.
"You're going to regret this," I warn, but there's no real conviction in my voice.
His lips trail down my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there in a way that makes me shiver.
"The only thing I'd regret," he murmurs against my throat, "is not meeting you earlier all those fucking years ago.”
His words send a fresh wave of heat through me, and this time I don't fight the way my body responds. My scent grows stronger, sweeter, filling the tiny space with unmistakable pheromones of Heat.
His own scent spikes in response, but it's not just dominance now—there's protection there, possession mixed with something that feels dangerously close to love.
A sharp knock on the door jolts us both.
"Is everything alright in there?" a flight attendant calls, her tone more suspicious than concerned.
I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp, my wide eyes meeting Holmes's. His lips are swollen from our kisses, his visible eye dark with desire, but there's also amusement dancing there.
This isn't how I expected this flight to go—trapped in a tiny bathroom with an Alpha who's become so much more than an enemy, trying not to completely unravel while his pack mates sit obliviously nearby.
On a fucking plane at that.
Holmes smirks, leaning close enough for his lips to brush my ear.
"We're not done, Abercrombie," he promises, his voice rough with need.
Despite everything we’ve been through, I’ve learned one thing about Holmes.
He always keeps to his word.