CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - BIRDIE
I stare down at the pile of brand-new blankets and cushions and try not to scowl.
The two shopping bags are bulging with silks, linens, and velvets, all in calming shades of blue, pale green, and cream.
It’s the color palette drawn straight from my bedroom window, and one glance at the price tags tells me this wasn’t a casual purchase.
They bought these things so Charlie could make a nest, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t force my hands to reach out and touch them.
“What’s wrong?” Hog asks, watching me closely. “If they’re not the right color or fabric…”
“No, they’re beautiful. They just smell really… clean.”
It’s a lame excuse, but I’m not exactly clear-headed right now.
When Axel decided that the only way through my heat was by tying him to a chair, Hog went in search of rope, while Colt pulled these bags out of the hallway closet.
I wasn’t prepared for the way my heart lifted – or how it came crashing down again - when I realized who they were really meant for.
Even if Charlie never got to use them, the sentiment was there, and things are already tangled enough without recycling his nest materials.
“They’re brand new,” Colt assures me.
“But if they were meant for Charlie…”
“No,” Axel says quickly, looking up from where he’s dragged a heavy wooden chair into the room.
“The day we arrived, we overnighted them from San Francisco. We wanted to be prepared…” He stares down at himself, still damp from the shower and only wearing a pair of boardshorts.
“Not that I pictured it going like this.”
By ‘this’ he means horny and conflicted, his rut hijacked by whatever bullshit Reeves did to my scent.
It rises around me like a cloying, sugary mist, and when I reach out to touch the nearest cushion, I pull my hand back like it’s radioactive.
Axel’s not the only one who can’t trust his senses right now, and I don’t know if I want to hug the bags to my chest or toss them into the ocean.
Taking an unsteady breath, I cross over to the window and stare out at the view. It’s late, so I can’t see much more than the lilac tree and a ribbon of moonlight snaking across the ocean. But the air is clean and fresh, and I take another hungry gulp, hoping it will clear the haze from my mind.
But that’s not how a heat works, and as Colt’s arm slides carefully around my waist, a feel a throb of awareness deep in my core. His scent is thicker, like fine chocolate baked into a gooey brownie. I have to bite the edge of my tongue so I don’t moan aloud.
“If the bedding is too clean,” he says with a teasing note in his voice, “we could always roll around in it. Would you like us to get them all nice and sticky with our pheromones? All you gotta do is invite us in.”
I glance past him to his packmates. They’re watching us like a pair of hawks, their dominance adding a deeper, spicier note to the air. Just the thought of their scents soaked into my bedsheets makes my thighs tighten in anticipation.
I tilt my head back so I can look up at Colt. “It’s that easy?”
Hog bends down and takes a mint green cushion out of the bag. “Well, you pick what stuff you want to use and what you want to leave out. Not everything is gonna feel right.”
“If it smells like you,” I tell him honestly, “it will feel better than right.”
Colt chuckles and kisses the side of my neck, then steps back to peel off his shirt.
“In that case, you can have it straight from the source.” He presses the soft fabric into my hands, and I can’t resist lifting it to my nose.
It’s still warm from his body and I groan in appreciation.
Colt chuckles again, squeezing my waist. “I’m guessing if you like that, Hog’s undershirt is gonna blow your mind. ”
My head snaps towards my scent mate, the skin around his claw marks throbbing with awareness.
I cross the room in eager strides, but the closer I get to him, the more I falter.
His scent is perfect, like the most delicious meal being waved under my nose, but I can’t ignore the faint hint of sourness under all that sweetness.
His mouth tightens as he stares down at me. When his gaze flicks to my scent gland, I wrap a protective hand around my neck. “Does it smell bad?”
His face contorts. “How could it? It’s your scent dialed up a hundred times.
” He gently removes my hand and brushes a thumb over the sensitive gland.
It throbs like it’s been pierced with a red-hot poker, but I still can’t resist leaning into his touch.
“It’s so good, I can barely stay off my knees.
And I want to kill the fucker for that. For making you suffer when all I want to do is worship you. ”
My lashes flutter at his ragged tone. “I can take the pain, Hog. But if it’s too hard for you, we don’t have to do this. I’ve been through heats alone before.”
“Fuck that!” Colt splutters. “We’ve got off to a rocky start, but we’re all in, sweetheart. Just give us a chance to look after you.”
I press a hand to Colt’s earnest face. Hog is a reassuring presence at my side, but I glance over at Axel, who’s sitting quietly on the chair, the rope in his lap.
I can still feel his dominance in the air, like a bonfire that’s pressing against a thin pane of glass, but he gives me a quick nod.
Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together.
“Okay, but if it becomes too much…” I suck in a sharp breath as a wave of heat steals my words.
It tightens my core, and this time it’s not with arousal.
I’ve had enough frustrating heats to know what it means.
“It’s starting.” I bite my lip, but the pain is spreading outwards, little sparks of warning before the cramps bring me to my knees.
“I need to shower. My muscles are tightening.”
“We can do better than that,” Colt says, wrapping an arm around my waist and leading me towards the door. “Did you happen to notice the tub in Axel’s bathroom?” When I hesitate, he makes an amused, humming sound. “Probably not, since you were pretty busy getting plowed into the tiles.”
I pinch his ribs and he ducks away, only to snap back like a magnet and nuzzle my neck. “Damn, but you smell delicious, Baggage.”
“I’m Baggage again?” I ask, leaning up against the wall.
Despite my arch tone, it’s a blatant invitation, and he presses his hands on either side of me, his lips only inches from mine.
His chest is a golden slab of lean muscle, and I’m barely aware of the cramps in my belly as I ran my hands over his bare flesh.
Colt is a beautiful man, but with his scent on high alert, he’s basically irresistible.
I lean forward and lick a stripe across his chest, pausing to nibble on the sharp jut of his collarbone.
“Shit, little bird!” he hisses, pulling back to slap a hand over my mouth. “Are you trying to scramble my brain?”
I smirk and run a finger along the hard line between his pecs. “You don’t want me nibbling on you, you need to put the goods away.”
He laughs and presses forward, mashing my wandering hand between us. “You nibble all you want. In fact, think of me as your heat chew toy. You start feeling a little bitey, I’ll be right there for you to gnaw on.”
I laugh, but another cramp suddenly rolls through me and I clutch his shoulder.
He quickly wraps an arm around my waist and leads me the rest of the way to Axel’s door.
Enranged alpha wafts out to greet me and I gasp in dismay at the state of his room.
One of the framed watercolors has fallen off the wall, a bedside table is knocked over, and a lampshade is knocked loose on the floor.
Red splatters lead us to the bathroom, where the vanity is smeared with blood.
“Ignore the décor,” Colt mutters and leads me over to the tub.
It’s wide and deep, and he props me on the edge as he gets the water running.
I squeeze my hands together, breathing through the pain, while he rummages through another wicker basket of products.
“Bubbles or oils?” At my blank look, he says, “Well, oils will make you slippery, but bubbles ruin the view….” He winks at me, then shakes his head.
“Sorry. My libido is on overdrive. Maybe I’ll just scatter some rose petals. ”
“I like the sound of oils,” I tell him, forcing a weak smile as I strip out of his t-shirt. “Slippery can be fun, right?”
His gaze rolls over me, his smile taking on a hungry edge. “Slippery has lots of possibilities.”
I smile and watch Colt add both oils and rose petals, filling the air with a sweet, spicy fragrance. It’s not as tempting as the pheromones still lingering in the air, but I sigh with relief as I sink into the warm water. “God, that’s perfect.”
Colt gives a happy hum and kneels beside the tub. I watch him with a faint smile as he folds a towel behind my head, then runs a washcloth over my shoulders. I think he’s looking at my scars, but his finger touches a small spot on my upper arm. “Is this a birth control implant?”
I nod and twist my arm to look at the tiny bulge. “The compound doctor gave it to me when I turned sixteen. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if the lab took it out…”
Something spasms on his face, his scent taking on a harder edge. “It’s still there. Sorry to kill the mood, sweetheart.”
“It’s fine. I have no expectations, Colt.”
He tilts his head. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well, I just don’t really know how to do a heat like this. If I screw something up…”
He sits back on his heels. “Sweet girl, this is your heat. Whatever feels right for you, will feel right for us. You can’t screw anything up.”
I ponder that for a moment. Maybe that’s true for normal omegas, but how many of them end up in blood-streaked bathrooms with a pack alpha lashed to a chair? “At the compound, I was taught that my instincts were bad. That heats had to be suppressed, or we’d lead alphas astray.”