Chapter 4
FOUR
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask Casey as he refills my cup and hands it to me.
“Yeah,” he responds curtly, avoiding my eyes.
I narrow my gaze at him. He’s been like this all night. Squirrelly, quiet, timid. It’s so different from his usual larger-than-life persona. His flamboyance is one of the reasons I love him, and he’s appearing more and more meek as the minutes drag on.
But he’s also been attentive. Always anticipating my needs, fetching me drinks, escorting me to quiet areas when I need a breather. Maybe I’m a typical omega, but those actions made me giddy. Even if he’s acting weird, he is still giving me what I need, and—selfishly—I’m accepting it every time.
He runs a hand through his thick blond locks and laughs. “What?”
“You’re acting weird,” I grumble. “And you’re drinking more than usual.”
The shot glass in his hand halts just before it reaches his lips, and he frowns. “You’re right.” He places it on the counter—undrunk—and takes my hand instead. “I just feel stiff. Let’s go dance. Maybe that’ll loosen me up.”
I’m about to ask him why he needs to loosen up when he pulls me into him.
My body immediately velcroes to his side as he wraps an arm around me and marches me into the next room.
His skin feels hot against mine, his chai scent spicy and creamy.
I swallow a whine as his hand squeezes my waist, sending goosebumps across every exposed sliver of skin.
The house is decorated wonderfully, and I mentally give credit to Mavin’s pack who made this possible.
Cobwebs and fake spiders adorn the walls, and there are tiny pumpkin trinkets scattered across every surface we pass, along with several plastic skeletons and fake gravestones.
There’s even a smoke machine sending a haze over the wooden floors.
The vibe is perfect, and every person here is dressed up for the occasion, making the vision complete.
When we get to the dance floor, I expect house music, or a spooky-season playlist, but instead the song that’s playing is slow and sensual. I scrunch my brows. “Looks like we’ll have to wait.”
Instead of agreeing like I expect, Casey raises a brow and his grin grows devious. “Why so, Elkie?”
The ridiculous nickname causes my lips to twitch with amusement. “Don’t call me that.”
“But you’re the best Elk there ever was,” he jokes, referring to the play our fifth-grade class had to perform for the entire school.
Our teacher decided to be original and wrote her own play, and I got cast as the elk.
I had to wear a hideously crafted animal mask and gallop all over the stage.
What no one told me, though, is that the mask would be hard to see through and that I would gallop right off the edge of the stage.
“An Elk with a concussion,” I remind him, crossing my arms.
He chokes down a laugh and then extends his hand. “Dance with me?”
I look at his hand, my heart beating a wild rhythm. I snap my gaze back to his. “To this?” I whisper-hiss.
His light-blue eyes sparkle with mischief once again. “Unless you think you won’t be able to resist me, El.”
Consciously, I know it’s a joke, but my stomach somersaults all the same, because the truth is… I can’t resist him. I don’t think I ever have or ever will, so when I look at his hand once more, there isn’t any hesitation as I take it.
“That’s my girl,” he praises, and my cheeks redden.
His eyes trail over my face and I pray that he doesn’t see the flushed complexion because of all the white I’m wearing.
I wish I could say that it takes a moment to get into a groove, but we fall into each other like it’s second nature.
He spins me and pulls me flush against him, my back against his front.
I inhale sharply at the movement before melting into him, our bodies merging like they were made for each other.
His hands move from my hips to my thighs and back, and then we’re moving to the music, teetering on the line between what’s appropriate in our friendship and what’s not.
I wouldn’t say I’m the most graceful dancer, but my mind is preoccupied with how good his body feels against mine and less worried about moving to the rhythm accurately. I reach my arm behind me and thread my fingers into his hair, locking on and using the grip to help me move more effortlessly.
His hands hold me with a little bit less control and a little bit more freedom.
I lean into them, wanting his palms to touch every single part of me.
Almost like he can sense my silent request, his hands start to roam, searching and feeling every sliver he can.
A gasp catches in my throat, and he tightens a fist into the silk material of my dress.
My ass grinds back and I shudder when I feel him. He’s hard, long. I can’t believe I just felt him like that, or that the arousal he’s feeling could be for me.
“El,” he whispers, his breath hitting the shell of my ear with a desperate husk. My half-lidded eyes look over my shoulder at him, and the look in his eyes makes me pause.
It’s dark, heated. I’ve never seen so much lust reflected back at me by anyone, much less him. Much less my best friend.
Is he really looking at me like that? Am I dreaming? I must be, because there’s no way that he…
He looks like he wants to say something, and I find myself leaning toward him to hear whatever it is, but before he can whisper it to me, there’s a strong scent.
My nose wrinkles. What is that?
It’s like honey mixed with dark liquor… something so electrifying that it seizes my movements immediately. Is that bourbon? I’m not much of a drinker besides mixed cocktails, so I can’t be too sure, but it smells harsh in the most delicious way. I look at Casey’s lips, curious.
Casey didn’t drink any whiskey… so where is it coming from?
I turn around fully and wipe the sweat from my brow.
Casey’s eyes widen, his nostrils flaring. It may just be the light, but I think his eyes dilate the smallest amount. “Elsie…”
My heart jumps. He knows I’m aroused. “What?”
“I think you’re… I think you’re having a heat spike.”
The second he says it, my stomach spasms with a painful cramp. It’s the most gut-wrenching sting I’ve ever felt as I fall forward, clutching my abdomen. Another twinge, and I have to fight not to fall to my knees.
“What the fuck?” I panic, instantly in distress.
Only a small part of me knew this would happen.
The part of me that wasn’t in denial and thought that I could last the rest of my life without starting a single heat cycle.
It’s my downfall now that my delusion would cause me to have my very first heat spike in the middle of this Halloween party, surrounded by Smurfs and Disney princesses and that one short dictator from Shrek.
God, that wig looks fucking great on her, though.
I guess it makes sense that I couldn’t run from this. I didn’t even consider taking suppressants because it’s never happened or showed any sign of starting, but now I’m hunched over in pain with no one to blame but myself.
Casey had his first heat the summer before we started college. It’s an experience that I’ve only ever heard about. I get a pang of sadness whenever I remember that I wasn’t there to help him when he needed me the most, especially when I saw how drained he looked afterward.
I spent many nights cuddling him and making sure he felt better because the alphas who were there to help him weren’t there anymore.
He found them using some app, and once the job was done, they were gone.
I didn’t mind picking up the emotional slack of those horrible alphas, though.
I was glad I could be of some use to him, even if it didn’t help my feelings in the slightest.
Every heat he’s had since has been smooth sailing, up until last year when that football player left him without any aftercare. What a loser.
Oh god, am I going to have to use that app now? Am I going to have to find some pigheaded alphas who only want to get their knots wet?
I don’t have a lot of experience with alphas. I’m not a virgin. I’ve slept with a couple people the past few years, but it’s mostly been betas. I’m certainly not ready for my first orgy.
Is it still considered an orgy if it’s for medical purposes?
“Elsie, we need to get you home,” Casey says, bringing me back to the present. The temporary blackout of worry helped to ease my pain slightly, but now that I’m out of my head and back in my body, the cramps worsen tenfold.
I look up at him, his brows scrunched with concern.
My sanity is slowly etching away, and I realize that I don’t have the capability to gratify myself right now.
In the past, Casey and I have discussed helping each other if the need were to arise, like if a heat spike struck out of nowhere.
I realize now that our agreement was for this exact scenario.
Damnit.
It’s not the most romantic way of being together, but when my stomach spasms once more, the pain is so unbearable that I can no longer consider the consequences.
“Casey,” I wince, squeezing my stomach tighter.
He leans over to catch my eyes. “Yes, baby?”
“Help me,” I plead, then an omega whine climbs up my throat.
He pulls me into his side, shielding me with his body. “I’ve got you.”