Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
“Well, that went better than I thought it would.”
Karma
Well, this was not how I was expecting to drop this bomb, but beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose. It does help to get to see the look on Roman Shaw’s face when he finally connected the dots. Even if I had to help this situation along.
I lean back on the bed after my dramatic curtsy, like I’m lounging at a damn dinner party instead of standing in a wolf’s den.
Roman looks at me like he’s seen a ghost. I guess he kind of has.
Harrison and Theo flank him, both tense, both watching me like they don’t quite understand what’s going on. But it’s Roman I can’t stop staring at.
He’s just as I remember. Stormy gray eyes and jet black hair swept back away from his face, which is shorter on the sides. All razor-sharp lines and built muscles are now covered in ink. I used to stare at this boy from across the classroom like he hung the moon.
“You’re dead,” he says, his voice low. Controlled only barely.
I smile. A slow and feral one. “Last I checked, I’m breathing.”
Theo shifts beside him, eyes pinned on me with a glint of excitement. Harrison’s fingers twitch as he glances back and forth between me and Roman. Roman doesn’t move. He just stares at me like, if he looks long enough, the answers he seeks will appear.
“I went to your funeral,” he snaps. “I watched them lower your coffin into the ground.” I tilt my head and hum.
“You killed yourself.” I knew Wesley Shaw and my father put on a show for the town.
How sad that a young Beta girl was so heartbroken she wasn’t an Omega; she went and killed herself. Dean told me all about it.
“Did I?” I question, looking down at myself to confirm I’m still in one piece, then look up with a cocked brow in questions.
I know I’m being a bitch right now, but I don’t owe Roman or any of these crazy hot alphaholes anything.
Harrison knocked me out twice within a two-day span.
Theo is kind of sweet in an 'I'm sort of obsessed with you’ way.
And well, Roman is on my shit list for reasons related to his last name.
Which I know is not fair to him because he technically did nothing wrong.
I know that, but just knowing he shares DNA with the top name on my hit list is enough to get under my skin.
His nostrils flare at my taunting as he takes a step toward me, and the air in the room tightens like a noose.
His scent fills my nostrils, leather mixed with bitter pepper, just as intoxicating as that day…
I force that memory away. Fuck him and his yummy scent.
I refuse to give in to my Omega instincts just because he and the others are my stupid fucking match scent.
Not that any of them have noticed yet, but all that might change soon.
I can already smell the subtle change since I woke up here.
“They said you left a note. That you couldn’t live with being a Beta. That you—” His voice breaks off, anger swallowing whatever was about to come next. “You were dead.”
My laugh is soft as I scoop up to the edge of the bed. “You buried a box, Roman.” His eyes narrow at me. “Did you ever see my body?” I ask, knowing the answer. No one saw my body. No one saw a note. No one saw or heard anything except Dean that night.
Silence fills the room. Awkward, but I refuse to budge.
Harrison looks between us before shuffling forward, pushing a pair of glasses he didn’t have before up his nose. Well, damn, that was cute. “Karma… How the hell are you here?”
“Oh, I’ve always been here,” I murmur. “Just not where anyone was looking because Rosie did die that day.” I chuckle. I have to push away the memories. I think that’s a saying or something. Laugh so you don’t cry.
Roman runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to wake himself up from a nightmare. Welcome to the crew, bro. “This isn’t funny, Rosie.”
Immediately I hiss at his words. “Do not call me that. That is no longer my name," I snap. Glaring at Roman with so much rage, I hope it burns his skin. “And I’m not laughing, Presa; I just think this entire situation is entertaining, if you will.” I shrug.
“You were dead,” he growls. “For years. We mourned you. I—” He cuts himself off again, jaw clenching. “You don’t just come back from that.”
I lean forward now, elbows on my knees, eyes locked on his. “Seems I do.”
We stare each other down, each of us not willing to give an inch. I see his fist clench and unclench before he finally gives in, taking a deep breath and, in a calmer tone, asking again. “How are you alive?”
I shrug. Again. Because I don’t care how calm he tries to act, I owe him nothing.
And I don’t need him looking into things that could raise flags for me.
Not when I’m closer than ever to my end goal.
He steps closer. Too close. I can feel the heat rolling off him, the anger vibrating under his skin at not getting the answers he wants. But boo hoo for him.
“Answer me.”
“No.”
The word lands between us like a gunshot.
Theo exhales slowly. Harrison mutters a curse under his breath.
Roman’s eyes darken. “You think this is a game?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I think this is karma at its finest.” I grin for good measure.
His lip curls at that, his hands fisted at his sides. “Why fake your death?”
My smile drops at that. Fake my death? Does he think I wanted this? That I wanted this life?
Silence. The room goes very, very still. He searches my face for something—regret, grief, guilt. He won’t find it because I’m not the one who did this.
“You expect me to just accept this with no explanation?” he asks, voice rough now. “That you let us think you were dead?”
“Yes. Because I don’t owe you answers.”
His entire body goes rigid. “You owe me the truth.”
I lean in, my lips inches from his ear. “The truth is," I murmur, “you aren’t ready for the truth.”
He jerks back as if I burned him.
“Try me.”
I step away instead.
“No.”
Something in him snaps.
“You don’t get to waltz back into my life after years and act like this,” he roars. “You don’t get to drop this bomb on me and then play all coy.”
“Watch me.” I smile for added effect knowing I’m getting under his skin.
Harrison steps forward like he might intervene, but Roman throws a hand out to stop him. His eyes never leave mine. “Fine,” he says flatly. “Keep your secrets.” There’s an implied ‘for now’ at the end of that statement.
I say nothing as he stares at me for another long, tense second like he’s memorizing my face all over again. Then he turns and storms toward the door like a child ready to throw a tantrum.
“Karma,” he throws over his shoulder, voice sharp with fury, “this isn’t over.”
I smile at his back. “It never was.” The door slams hard enough to rattle the walls before silence settles in the wreckage he leaves behind.
“Well, that went better than I thought it would.”
Roughly 96 hours.
Four long days of being off suppressants, and today is the day that my body has finally caught up to it. I wake up burning. Not metaphorically but burning like I’m in the fires of hell.
My skin feels two sizes too small, stretched too tight over a body that suddenly doesn’t belong to me. Every nerve ending is lit up, humming, raw. My throat is dry. My pulse is a frantic, pounding thing between my ribs. And my scent—
Fuck.
Wild rose. Jasmine. Honeysuckle.
It’s pouring on me in thick, suffocating waves. Sweet. Lush. Unmistakable.
Heat.
“No,” I whisper to the empty room. Begging the gods to have mercy on me. It’s too soon. It’s not supposed to be now. Though that’s a lie. I’ve been forcing my body to reject its nature for years, and now it’s demanding reverence. My body doesn’t care what I want anymore; it’s demanding.
A tremor wracks through me, sharp enough to make me curl slightly on the bed as I hold back a whimper. My muscles ache like I’ve run miles, and my lower abdomen throbs with a deep, insistent pulse. Fever creeps under my skin, hot and dizzying.
They’re going to smell it.
Of course they are.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire city smelled me at this point.
I haven’t seen any of the guys since last night when Harrison brought me dinner. He’d lingered a second too long in the doorway, like he wanted to say something. Like he felt something off but left me alone.
My scent thickens again, just thinking about the guys, cloying and heavy. I can practically see it curling in the air. And panic begins to set in. They are going to know the truth. Fuck.
“Get up,” I mutter to myself. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I push myself up, but the room tilts slightly. Another wave of heat slams into me, sharp enough to make my fingers dig into the mattress.
Control it. Breathe through it.
Maybe it’s not as noticeable.
I force myself to stand. My thighs tremble. My skin is overly sensitive, and the brush of fabric against me feels like friction and electricity all at once.
Bathroom. Cold water. Lock the door. Figure it out.
I take one step.
Then I hear it.
Footsteps.
Fast.
Heavy.
More than one.
Shit. Fuck. They’ve caught the scent.
The pounding gets closer—down the hall… right outside the door… And then it slams open.
Roman is first through, eyes already dark, nostrils flaring. Harrison right behind him. Theo at his shoulder. They stop dead the second they see me. The second they really scent me and feel the full force of my pheromones, they
The air shifts. It’s almost violent, like, taking my breath away in an instant as I wait for their reactions. All three of them inhale sharply at the same time, like the oxygen’s been sucked out of the room and replaced with something addictive.
Roman’s eyes snap to mine, pupils blown wide. Recognition of what this means.
“Holy—” Theo breathes out. “Thank the fucking gods; I knew she was mine.”
Harrison looks like someone just hit him in the chest, with a look of pure disbelief.
It clicks across their faces one by one. Shock leading to something primal. Roman takes a slow step forward, like he doesn’t even realize he’s moving. “You’re—”
“Don’t,” I snap. My voice comes out rougher than I intended as I hold my hand up to make it clear I don’t want them to come any closer. Not with their masculine scents. And rough hands. And low, growly voices. And…
Their gazes drag over me, not leering, but something worse. Claiming. Drawn. Like gravity just shifted, and I’m the center of it.
“Scent match?” Harrison mutters, disbelief thick in his voice.
Theo shakes his head slightly, but a smirk lifts his lips. “All three of us?”
The fever spikes. My vision swims for half a second. I brace myself against the nearest wall. Using it to ground me as their scents begin to swarm my senses.
Roman’s jaw tightens. He looks wrecked. And I wonder for half a second if he knew then like I did. “You’re burning up,” he says, his voice low.
“No shit.” I would roll my eyes because, duh, it’s obvious, but everything hurts too much.
He takes another step. So do the others. The air between us grows tight. Charged. Instincts clawing at the surface of control. My body reacts to their proximity, the traitorous hussy. I’m aching in places I shouldn't, and every nerve ending is hyperaware.
But my mind?
Still mine… for now.
“Stop.” My voice cracks like a whip.
They freeze. I wish I had the strength to add Good boys.
Roman’s breathing is heavier now. “Karma…”
“If you take another step,” I warn, teeth gritted against another wave of heat, “I will put you through that wall.” I threaten, though I doubt I’m capable of doing that in this state.
Theo’s eyes flicker with something almost amused despite the tension. “You’re in heat and you’re threatening us?”
“Yes.” I narrow my eyes on him, daring him to push me.
Harrison runs a hand down his face like he’s trying to get a grip on himself. “You’re in pain, Karma.”
“I know.” Way to state the obvious, boys.
Roman’s gaze softens for half a second. “We can help you.”
Rage slices clean through the haze. “Fuck off.” The words echo in the room.
All three of them flinch, not from the volume, but from the venom they can no doubt hear. “You think this changes anything?” I spit. “You think because biology decided to play matchmaker, I’m just going to roll over for you?”
Roman’s jaw flexes. Theo shifts his weight, looking insulted, and Harrison looks like I just kicked his puppy. “That’s not what we’re saying.”
“It’s exactly what your bodies are saying,” I snap.
Silence follows because they know I’m right.
It’s in our DNAs. Alphas go into rut when Omegas go into heat.
Their instincts hounding them to fuck the Omega until they knot.
NO, to breed the Omega. All for one thing, to make little Alpha babies.
My knees wobble again, but I refuse to let them see weakness.
“I don’t need you,” I say, even as another tremor shakes me. “I don’t want you. So, get. Out.”
Roman’s eyes flash with something dangerous at that. Hurt and dominance tangled together.
“You’re our scent match,” he says quietly. “You don’t get to pretend that doesn’t mean something.” Is he for real right now?
“I don’t belong to you.”
Harrison’s voice is strained. “That’s not what this is.”
“It never is, is it? "I shoot back.
The room feels too small. Too hot. My scent saturates every inch of it, sweet and wild and impossible to ignore. Theo exhales sharply through his nose. “We should step back.”
Finally, a smart Alpha.
Roman doesn’t move; his eyes watch my every move with an emotion I don’t understand.
“Roman,” Harrison warns. His gaze never leaves mine. The tension stretches like a taut rubber band ready to snap at any second. I dare him to test me right now.
Finally, Roman takes one slow step backward. Then another. But his eyes promise this isn’t finished. None of the guys look happy; no, they all look like fate just punched them in the face.
“Get out. Now," I repeat, quieter. One by one, they back toward the door, instinct fighting every inch of reason. Roman is the last to leave. He pauses at the threshold, breathing hard, eyes dark and possessive and furious all at once.
“You knew this entire time?” he asks, and I bare my teeth at him, not willing to answer. The door shuts, and the second it clicks closed, my legs give out, and I slide to the floor, heat roaring through me like wildfire.
Alone. Again.
And absolutely not theirs… No, I would rather die than give in to these alphaholes.