Chapter Thirteen
A week later, Jamie is still AWOL. I wonder if Connor hunted her down despite me going to Kanata's with him.
The one small mercy about my current predicament is that a week off suppressants has me feeling better than I have in years.
I’m sleeping through the night for once, and I haven’t had to pound ibuprofen to get through a headache at work all week. But I can feel the bond stirring in my chest, peeking up its head like a withered vampire given a single drop of blood.
Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Connor’s right—I can only suppress for so long before my body completely shuts down.
I can stop tutoring Connor before my scent becomes too obvious, then seek out a heat clinic. The ones in the pamphlet Kanata shoved in my hand before I left keep alphas on call for unscheduled heats. Nothing could be as bad as the night of the mating ceremony, right?
Connor’s already in the tutoring room when I arrive. His nostrils flare. He draws in a deep breath, then slaps a palm over his nose, eyes alarmed. “Fuck, Lana. You were on enough supps to down a randy elephant.”
‘And now?' my inner omega wants to ask. Do you recognize me yet as your missing piece?
I don’t say that. I’m playing with fire by seeing him at all without a load of chemicals in my blood.
The tutoring has to end, and soon. Catching whiffs of his scent around the college this past week nearly undid me.
I floated on a dopey, happy high when I passed the table he always sat at at breakfast. My body went all tingly when I shelved a book he borrowed from the library. I have to cut it off.
The tutoring room is drenched in our pheromones, and the rattling vent pumping stale air into the space does little to counteract it. The muffin wrapper still in the trash can is proof of how often the janitors visit. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.
He slides a wrap across the table toward me.
“Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat.”
The session goes downhill from there.
I can’t focus on my studies at all. His scent is too strong in the tiny room. I struggle to breathe through my mouth. Connor periodically pulls at the collar of his shirt, revealing a flushed neck.
“Itchy,” he mutters.
“We can end our sessions?—”
He jerks his head up. “No! I just have to get used to it. And this room has horrible ventilation. I never noticed how stuffy it was in here.”
I stand up from my seat. “I’ll open the window.”
“Don’t. It’s freezing out there. You’ll get sick. You heard Kanata. Your immune system is probably compromised.”
“You look like you’re about to break out in hives.”
“It’s fine. I’m just struggling. I didn’t expect you to smell this?—”
I tilt my head and wait for him to finish.
“This good.”
My inner omega preens.
"Haven't you been around awakened omegas at your old school?"
"Sure, but they were either mated or smelled uninteresting to me.
"I smell 'interesting,' then?"
"Something like that."
I’m not sure if I should be offended, flattered, or concerned. A little bit of all three.