Chapter Twenty-One
Ava
Stupid. I am so fucking stupid.
The moment Tony pulls back up in front of the mayor’s house, I all but throw myself into the car.
Jealousy and betrayal crash through me in equal measure, and even though a distant part of my brain knows I’m being unreasonable, I can’t slow it down.
My heat has arrived full force, and my omega has seized the wheel. Logic doesn’t stand a chance.
My mind won’t let go of the image. That blonde bitch wrapped around his arm, fingers digging into his bicep like she belonged there, tilting her face up at him and batting her lashes. Markie-poo. The nickname makes me gag. What kind of ridiculous, infantilizing bullshit is that supposed to be?
A cramp clamps down low and hard, stealing the air from my lungs. I groan and fold forward, fists pressing into my abdomen to relieve the pain with counter-pressure.
I have no idea what I’m going to do.
“Do you want to find a clinic?” Tony asks gently, already watching me in the rearview mirror.
The suggestion alone makes my heart race. Panic flares quickly, and I shake my head so hard it makes me dizzy. “No. No, just take me home.” My voice comes out strained. “I’ll take more suppressants. Sleeping pills. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“Ava,” he says carefully, “we should turn around. You can still talk to him.”
“No!” The word comes out too sharp, and I wince immediately, guilt stacking on top of everything else. Tony doesn’t deserve that. “I’m sorry. I just… no. He’s on a date. With an omega.”
“And?” Tony prompts.
“And he’s going to smell like her,” I snap, the thought making my chest ache.
“I can’t let him into my nest like that.
” My voice breaks, tears spilling over before I can stop them.
My skin feels overheated and hypersensitive, like every nerve is lit up at once.
“If he replaced me that fast, then we obviously can’t be mates. ”
“That’s not—”
I don’t want to hear it. Whatever reasonable thing he’s about to say has no place here, not when my body is screaming and my heart feels flayed open.
I hit the button to raise the partition and curl in on myself, knees pulled tight to my chest. It’s childish.
I know it is. But I’m an omega in heat, and I want to be allowed this. Just for a little while.
Everything hurts. My body. My heart. My pride.
Through the haze, I hear Tony’s muffled voice as he calls someone. Shelby, probably. Maybe Jack. I hope it’s Jack. Maybe he can get to Mom, convince her to help me push this off again. I don’t even care how much she yells if she can just make it stop.
I rock gently, a soft, broken sound slipping out of me as my scent floods the enclosed space.
Oranges and deep vanilla, rich and unmistakable, scorched at the edges by stress and pain.
The cramps deepen, rolling and tearing, and it feels like my uterus is trying to rip itself apart from the inside.
My whole body feels that way. I’ve been through heats before.
They’re always painful until I can get a knot. But never like this.
My muscles tense and my body convulses against the seat.
By the time the car stops, the seizure has stopped, but the pain has gone so far past tolerable that everything feels unreal, hazy, like I’m drugged.
The door opens and light floods in—too bright, too much, and I curl tighter into myself.
I don’t want to be out there. Out there is open and exposed. In here, it’s dark and contained.
Where’s Mark?Why isn’t he here?I need Mark.
I shake my head weakly, trying to shove the thought away. No. Mark is with another omega. He chose her. He rejected us.
Hands touch my skin, and I hiss, instinctively trying to pull back, until a familiar scent cuts through the fog. Muted lemon. Jack. “Christ, Mateo, she’s burning up,” he says. His voice sounds distant, warped, like it’s coming through water. I don’t catch Mateo’s reply.
I’m glad Mateo is here with Jack.Maybe he can save me.Or at least comfort Jack if he can’t.
I don’t remember getting out of the car. One second I’m folded into the seat, the next I’m cradled against Jack’s chest, his arms tight around me as he carries me inside.
Where are we going?
I press my face harder into his shoulder. His scent is familiar and would normally soothe me. But it’s wrong. So wrong. I need bourbon and leather, not citrus.
Where’s Mark?
A sound tears out of me, high-pitched and keening. I don’t realize at first that the whine is coming from me, but when I do, I do it louder. Maybe if he hears me, he’ll come. Mark can fix this.
Then another scent hits me, familiar and heavy, wrapping around me like a blanket. Home. The tension eases just a fraction. “Nest,” I manage, the word scraping out of my throat. My mouth feels dry and swollen, like my tongue barely fits.
“Not yet, sweets,” Jack says, his voice tight. Not like him at all. He sounds scared. I should fix that. I should know how. “Mateo says we’ve gotta get the fever down first. He’s gonna give you a shot, okay? Mom says it’ll help some. Just till she can get here tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
I won’t last that long. It’s possible for omegas to die from their heats without an alpha, and I’m definitely alpha-less. I shake my head, panic flaring. “Nest,” I cry again, louder this time. He’s not listening. Why won’t he listen?
Water runs somewhere nearby. Mateo’s voice cuts in, sharp and controlled, saying something about the hospital.
“No,” I say immediately.
They argue over me, voices overlapping, too fast to follow. I give up trying to understand and close my eyes, surrendering to the pain instead.
Then suddenly, I’m being lowered into water.
It might be lukewarm, but against my overheated skin, it feels like ice. I gasp, lungs seizing. A sharp prick at my elbow follows, then a bitter, metallic taste floods my mouth. Nausea rolls hard and fast.
“I’m gonna be sick,” I choke.
Hands move quickly, practiced, rolling me onto my side over the edge of the tub. I retch, emptying what little is in my stomach into the trash can that magically appears. Thanks, random floating hands.
Slowly, the fuzziness at the edges of my vision recedes. The pain doesn’t vanish, but it dulls, no longer screaming. I blink and lift my head to find Mateo crouched beside the tub, studying me closely.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he says quietly. His face shows obvious signs of concern, but he also looks calm and in control. Perks of being a trauma nurse, I guess.
“I’m sorry for puking,” I rasp.
He snorts. “Not even the first time this week someone’s thrown up in front of me. Least it wasn’t on my shoes. I figured you would, given what your mom had me draw up.”
“What… was that?” My voice sounds wrecked.
“A frankly bizarre cocktail of hormones, painkillers, and for reasons known only to her, an antacid.”
“Are you gonna get in trouble?” I croak. “I know a lawyer.”
His mouth twitches. “Your mother assures me she’ll handle the hospital end of it. Still, I might have to take you up on that.” Then his expression sharpens. “I really think you should go in, Ava. That fever was dangerously high. I think you might have seized once already. This is serious.”
“No hospital.” I try to sit up and frown when I realize I’m still submerged, my evening gown floating uselessly around me. “You couldn’t take the dress off first?”
Mateo rolls his eyes. “Sorry. I was busy keeping you alive and stopping your brother from having a heart attack.”
“Where is Jack, anyways?”
“I think he’s in the living room, talking to your mom,” he says. “She and your dad are catching the first flight back to New York. Wouldn’t want to be you tomorrow.”
I groan. “I don’t want to be me right now.”
“Come on,” he says, already moving. “Let’s get you into something dry and comfortable.”
He helps me out of the ruined dress and into a robe before depositing me onto the vintage chaise tucked along the wall near the closet door. “Stay here,” he orders. “I’ll grab you some clothes.”
The moment he turns his back, I ignore him and shuffle to the vanity, opening the medicine cabinet and reaching for my suppressants.
If I take a few, surely between that and whatever Mom cooked up, I can hold out until she gets here.
I tip the bottle, but a sudden wave of vertigo hits, and my fingers fumble.
I watch in horror as the bottle slips and the last remaining pills fall straight down the drain.
I close my eyes and count backwards, forcing myself to breathe. This is not a crisis. I just have to make it to tomorrow. Mom will fix it. I’ll just reschedule a pickup with Vinny.
Mateo comes back with a stack of clothes and immediately notices the empty bottle. “What happened?”
“I was going to take some suppressants,” I admit. “Figured they could only help whatever you gave me, but I spilled them.”
He exhales slowly and rubs at his temple. “First of all, drug interactions are a thing, Ava. You do not mix and match hormones without checking.” He sets the clothes on the counter. “Second, I swear you and your brother are going to give me a stroke.”
“Don’t yell at me,” I whine. “I almost died, and I still feel like shit.”
He makes a clawing gesture like he’s contemplating my murder, then reins it in and steers me back to the chaise. “Let’s get you dressed,” he says, calmer now. “Then you can crawl into your nest, okay?”
I nod, letting him help me into a soft pajama set. “I figured you’re still hot and sensitive,” he explains, “so this was the best I could find.”
“Thank you, Mateo. Really.” My throat tightens. “I’m sorry I’m being such a pain in the ass.”
He laughs. “This is nothing compared to your brother with a cold.”
As if summoned, Jack appears, phone held in front of him like it’s a live grenade. “Mom, here, you can talk to her yourself. Mateo gave her the shot, and she looks better.”
“Hi, Mom,” I say weakly, glaring at Jack for the lack of warning.
“Ava, what the hell is going on?” Her voice is warm and concerned right now, but I know as soon as she establishes that I’m no longer in immediate mortal danger, that will quickly change.
“Before we get into it,” I say dryly, “can you give me the cliff notes on what Jack already told you? I’m a little fuzzy on the details myself.”
There’s a pause. I hear murmuring in the background. Dad, no doubt.
“Your brother,” she says carefully, “said Tony called him saying you went into heat suddenly, were incoherent, and were burning up in the back of the car. You may have had a febrile seizure.”
“That does sound like what happened,” I agree.
“Do you have any idea why?”
I know a trap when I see one, or I guess in this case, hear one. If I lie and say no, she’ll catch me in that. If I explain why, I’m going to get the riot act. I sigh. I don’t have the energy to dodge it. And honestly, I want my mom, so best to get it over with.
“I have theories,” I admit. “There was an incident with my last heat that I will not talk about right now,” I say firmly.
“And… the suppressants haven’t been working like they used to.
I’ve had to double or triple the dose sometimes.
” I leave off the part that this is almost certainly due to the copious amount of sex I’ve been having with an alpha who might be my mate.
She’s silent for a moment. “And you’ve been using the same ones?”
“Yes.”
“The strongest kind? Formulated through my lab connections overseas?”
Jack grimaces and makes a slicing motion across his throat.
I scrunch my nose up and shut my eyes. “Yes?”
“Okay,” her voice is chilly now. “So just to be clear. You haven’t had a normal, successful heat in nearly a year, and instead of consulting your mother, a physician who specializes in omega reproductive cycles, you chose to double or triple pharmaceutical-grade hormones at the highest dosage available? ”
“Well, when you say it like that,” I mutter.
There’s a strained choking sound over the line. “Hank,” Mom snaps, “talk to your daughter before I say something unforgivable.”
The phone shifts. “Peanut,” Dad says gently, “you scared us half to death. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Jack that panicked.”
“I know, Daddy,” I whisper. “I was going to call. The other night. But it was late, and then I got busy, and then everything just… fell apart.”
Mom says something sharp in the background. Dad covers the speaker briefly, then returns. “If your fever spikes again, you’ll need to go to a clinic.”
“Daddy, I can’t.” The weight of it all crashes down at once, and I start sobbing.
Mom’s voice cuts back in. “Jack, give your sister the phone. You and Mateo step out. Hank, tell the flight attendant I need another pillow.”
They obey instantly.
A moment later, she exhales, and her voice softens. “Did something happen at the clinic?”
“Yes,” I manage to choke out.
“Did someone hurt you?” My silence must be answer enough. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” she says, tears thickening her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to tell anyone,” I sob. “I didn’t even tell Jack. Tony picked me up and took me to Shelby’s house, so they know, but only because of that. If it hadn’t happened, no one would know.”
“Okay,” she says, and it sounds like she’s more thinking out loud than actually talking to me. “If your fever spikes again, you need to take some more suppressants—”
The call drops before I can tell her that I don’t have any more. I try to call her back, but it goes straight to voicemail. The plane’s wifi must have cut out. Shit.
I come out of the bathroom and hand Jack his phone. “I’m going to lie down in my nest. I feel awful.”
Mateo frowns. “What did she say to do if your heat spikes again?”
I give a sharp laugh. “Take more suppressants. Which I don’t have. So I’m just going to go to sleep and hopefully stay unconscious until she lands.”
Jack and Mateo look at each other, and I can tell they are not in agreement with this plan, but what other choice do I have? I don’t have any suppressants. I can’t go to a clinic or the hospital, so this is how I have to ride out the next twelve hours.
You could call our alpha, my omega whines.
Except no, I can’t. He blocked me. And he’s on a date. And I’ve ruined everything. So, bed it is.