Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Iris
“Let go, Iris. You’re safe with us. Your Omega can fully take over now.”
“You like the taste of our cum all together, don’t you, mi conejita?”
“Yes, sweet girl. Suck just like that.”
“Your hot cunt is squeezing my knot, baby.”
“Such a greedy little Omega, wanting us to fill all your holes.”
“Doesn’t your Beta look good eating your pussy with Mateo’s cock in his ass, Omega?”
“Rest now. We’ll be here when you wake up, star.”
My eyes fly open and I sit up straight in bed. The movement is way too fast and a wave of dizziness washes over me like cold water being dumped on my head. I shut my eyes and groan.
“Easy now, Iris. You’re okay. Take a deep breath,” a warm voice requests, a hint of a twang beneath it. I do as he says, Jett’s lemon scent washing over me as I inhale deeply through my nose.
His purr springs to life before he continues. “That’s it, and now out…yes, good girl.”
My overused pussy clenches at the praise and I grit my teeth. No. No more of that.
“Can you open your eyes for me?”
There’s part of me that doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to face the reality of what’s happened with Pack Quinn for the last…gods knows how many days. But I know I have to. What other choice is there?
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, trying not to think of everything that has to happen now that I’m out of my heat.
I take another few breaths before I finally feel collected enough to face the Alpha.
We’re alone in the nest, lights twinkling above us.
I’m wearing a baggy shirt they must have put on me, one that smells of mint.
My body naturally relaxes, as if it’s now been programmed to be eased by the Prime Alpha’s scent.
“You okay?”
That’s a loaded question, one I’m not going into right now or ever.
So I nod and turn to look at Jett. He’s watching me carefully, a blanket tugged up over his waist, leaving his chest bared to me.
If there was a window in here, I have no doubt that if it’s daytime, the sun would be shining on him like a perfect halo, highlighting his flawlessly askew sandy hair and muscled chest.
I’ve looked at Jett plenty in photos and movies over the years, but seeing him now, after days of fucking, he’s something else.
He appears lighter, relaxed, and without the haze of heat I can fully appreciate his toned frame and the tattoos inked across his skin.
My eyes zero in on one cascading from the top of his shoulder and spilling onto his left pec.
It’s an intricate ocean wave in black and grey, the details of it so good it appears real—like it will roll off his skin and lap at your feet.
Visions of my tongue tracing it before I kissed down his body enter my mind and I can’t stop the flush that now burns my cheeks.
“Do you like the ocean?” he asks.
My eyes meet his and I find no cocky grin or knowing look on his features. Bless him for not bringing up what I was just thinking about, even though it’s written all over my face and my scent has spiked. You’d think after a heat that wouldn’t be a problem, but apparently not.
“I do.”
Jett smiles. “Ever surfed?”
I shake my head. “I have crap balance.”
“Maybe you just need the right teacher. We could go sometime if you’d like.”
The apples of his cheeks stain red and my heart speeds up. Did Jett Quinn just say he could teach me to surf and blushed? Does he forget I ruined his movie and fucked things up royally for their pack. For me?
The bridge of my nose stings and my scent goes sour at the same time Jett’s lemon does.
“It’s okay if you don’t. It’s not for everyone.”
“No, I—” My throat is thick with emotion and I swallow it down, deciding it’s best to change the subject before I have a breakdown.
It wouldn’t be hard with the after-heat hormones coursing through my body.
It’s also been a long time since I came down from a heat with a pack, and they’re my scent matches.
If I could describe how I feel right now, I’d simply go with wrecked. Wrecked in so many ways.
“Iris—”
I can’t take the worried tone in Jett’s voice or the way his brow knits in almost fear.
The muscles in his arm twitch as if he’s going to reach out to touch me, and I need to get out of this bed before that happens.
I don’t want to accept anymore from them.
I’m surprised he’s even being this nice to me now.
“Can I use your bathroom to clean up?” I cut him off, already shifting off the bed. My Omega protests, not wanting to leave our warm, safe nest that smells like Jett, Mateo, Augie, and Wilder—like pack.
Unfortunately, this is not our pack, and it’s not our nest.
It is. They said we’re theirs.
I gently remind the fragile demon inside me that it was all heat talk. Nothing they said was true. It hurts to think of it that way, but it’s how these things work. The last time I was at a heat clinic the Alpha’s would say the same kinds of things.
It wasn’t the same.
“Of course you can,” Jett says. “You don’t have to ask.”
I don’t bother looking at him, pushing slowly off the bed, ignoring the delicious aches in my body as I move.
“Do you need help?”
A memory of him washing me during my heat appears in my mind. He was so tender, so caring. I didn’t have to beg for him to knot me, he knew what I needed and said sweet things to me while he used some sort of buzzing waterproof toy on my clit.
My soured scent starts to turn sweet and I shake my head. “It’s okay. I’m good.”
His eyes burn into the back of my head as I walk away, the T-shirt hardly covering my ass. I’m about to open the bathroom door when Jett’s voice rings out behind me.
“Iris!”
I turn and he’s standing at the end of the hallway with tight briefs hugging his lower half. Damn this man. He has to look like an underwear model right now? I’m sure I look like I’ve been put into the washer and set on spin.
He walks up and holds out his hand. “I thought you might want your phone so you can check in with Sadie and anyone else who may be missing you.”
Tears prick my eyes before I can stop them.
Gods. I need to shower and get these hormones under control.
I can’t cry every time they do something thoughtful.
I’ve already proven how out of control I am by going into heat on set.
If I have even a small chance at keeping the role, which I doubt I do, crying and acting weird is not going to help.
I take the phone from his hand, careful not to touch him, muttering a “Thanks,” before I escape into the safety of the bathroom, and locking the door shut behind me.
“Six days?”
“Y-yes,” Sadie squeaks through the phone.
“That’s—that should be impossible. My heats are usually four days tops.”
“It’s because of the suppressants and touch starvation. I’m sure meeting your scent-matched pack also has something to do with it.”
I run my hand through my wet hair as I sit on the edge of a massive jacuzzi tub. One that could easily fit three big Alphas, a curvy Omega, and a toned Beta.
I shake the thought away and focus on the facts at hand. I was fucked for six days straight. I remember the first two of them including Wilder’s rut, the rest are coming back to me but they feel like broken bits of hazy dreams.
Gods. That means the film has been delayed for longer given I remember my heat breaking sometime yesterday morning, Augie mentioning it was breakfast time, and Mateo coaxing me to drink a smoothie before I fell into a deep sleep.
It’s morning again now, and the date on my phone confirms it’s been seven days since they brought me here.
“Iris?” Sadie questions.
I blow out a breath. “I guess that’s true. I’ll have to make an appointment with my doctor to make sure everything is alright. Not the fancy one that fucked me over but my normal one.”
“Already done. It’s in your calendar.”
“Thanks, Sadie.”
“But you’re alright otherwise? They took care of you?”
My chest warms at her concern. I remember how she stood up for me before everything went down too. Ready to pull me away from Pack Quinn if I hadn’t consented to them helping me through my heat. She’s a good person and friend.
“Yeah, they did.”
“Then why do you sound so stressed?”
I stand from the tub and pace back and forth, biting my nail. “Because I fucked up, Sadie. I went into heat on set, ruined the movie and my career, and made this pack take care of me for a week!”
“Did they tell you that?” she asks angrily. In my head I imagine her standing up with a little snarl on her face, ready to throw down. It has me smiling despite everything.
“No, they didn’t.”
“What did they say?”
I shake my head even though she can’t see it. “Nothing yet. I woke up and came to the bathroom to shower. I haven’t faced them yet.”
“Then I think you should be talking to them instead of me. Also, how are you even talking to me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, well, when my sisters come out of a heat they spend at least a couple days in their nest resting with their packs. You were going at it for a long time, I’m surprised you’re conscious.” She snorts, then clears her throat. “Sorry, that was unprofessional.”
“It’s fine, Sadie. You’re right, but it’s not my nest and they aren’t my pack.” Though my Omega did protest to my shower. I was both crying and growling through the entire thing, but it had to be done.
There’s a pause before Sadie speaks again. “Aren’t they going to be though? They’re your scent matches.”
“That doesn’t mean they want to bite me and keep me forever.
Like I said, I ruined everything by being so reckless.
I’m sure what happened has slipped to the press.
I’ll never work again. Especially if they decide to sue me for breach of contract.
Which would be in their right since I lied about being on suppressants and—"
“Iris!” Sadie cuts me off. “Calm down, okay? You need to talk to your pack.”
I want to reiterate they aren’t my pack but instead I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“Just talk to them, and we’ll speak when you come up for air.”
“Sadie—” The line goes dead and I pull my phone from my ear to see she did, in fact, hang up on me.
I stalk over to the mirror, any relaxation and relief I’d felt from finally having a proper heat gone from my body.
I stare at my reflection, anxiety written clear as day all over my face.
If I go out to talk to Pack Quinn like this, their instincts will be to comfort me and I’ll probably end up letting them.
But we need to have a real conversation.
Not one clouded by our designations or the intimacy we shared together over the last freaking week.
“You really had to go all out, didn’t you?” I ask my Omega.
She ignores me. Of course she does. Though I swear I feel pride toward her actions flitter through me.
I puff out a breath. I need to find clothes that aren’t Wilder’s shirt and put on my acting face. I’m going to find the pack and apologize for what happened. I just hope I can walk away with my dignity and the possibility of a career.