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“Good. Never doubt us again, hear me?” He grips my cheek, smooths his thumb over my cheekbone. “Now get outta here. We can pick up where we left off later.”
And with that promise ringing in my ears, I head back to my station by the entrance of the bar, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.
This isn’t going to be an easy ride, I think as the night wears on and the crowd starts to thin. We’ve overcome a lot of hurdles already, but the financial issues are going to be a bitch to sort out.
With Sawyer’s and Brinlee’s debts, I guess the trip we were planning to the Bahamas is out. I grin to myself. Never cared much about going there anyway.
This is so much more important.
I’m a sarcastic motherfucker, but listen… I know, better than most, how essential family is. Maybe because I never had it until now. Money counts too, don’t get me wrong. Money is important to ensure a good quality of life, but between living comfortably and having my pack? No question there. I’ll take extra shifts if I have to, ask Zayne at the gym if he has any jobs for me.
We’ll figure it out. After everything, I have faith in us. More faith than ever.
But something catches my attention as I scan the crowd, something happening at the bar. There’s Roman with his shaker, making fancy cocktails, and there’s Sawyer… and four big guys hovering behind him.
What in the actual fuck?
I’m already striding toward him, before my brain fully catches up, and I’m not even sure if it’s more a protective or a possessive instinct that’s guiding my steps.
I’d say it’s both.
He’s with us. Those men had better back the hell off before I rip them to shreds. And fuck, as I make my way to him, I notice more men turning their heads to look at him, nostrils flaring.
The hell? Is there something in the air? Apart from the four alphas sniffing Sawyer—because they’re very obviously alphas, towering over most of the crowd—another four are slowly approaching.
What the fuck, Sawyer?
As I approach him, a scent tickles my senses. I take a deliberate sniff and choke on sugar. Marshmallows, I think, slow-roasted over a smoking fire, and sweet wine with clover and cinnamon. It speaks to me, speaks right to my dick, in fact, and in two seconds flat I’m fully hard.
No, not just hard: my knot is inflating. It’s such a weird, unusual feeling. I can count on one hand the number of times my knot has inflated over the years, and never so suddenly.
Never so quickly.
It stops me in my tracks. I see Archer coming out of his office, a puzzled look on his face to match my own. Roman is staring at me. He gestures to ask, What’s going on?
But it takes a long, too long moment for my confused brain to catch on to what’s happening.
Sawyer is going into heat.
44
SAWYER
Brinlee is unbelievable. Watching her dance is like watching a whirlwind of flowers, a sunrise in fast motion. Dazzling. Graceful. Enchanting. Exciting.
I clutch the cocktail Roman prepared for me, its coolness feeling good in my sweaty hand. Dammit, I feel too hot, I feel… off. Slightly dizzy and breathless, as if I have a fever, but also hard. So hard and slick, I’m sure I’ve stained my pants.
But that’s not the reason I’m still sitting here. I’ll deal with that later. No, not even bombs could move me from my spot on the barstool with my pack around me.
I need them. I fucking need them and… Fuck, my eyes are prickling. What, am I gonna weep like a child? Something’s definitely off.
Did I take my suppressants this morning?
Or the one before?
Oh, shit… When was the last time I took them? I’ve been so stressed out lately that I can’t even remember taking my pills in… days. Many days. Wait… I remember now. I didn’t want to mix them with the OCD medication.
Then again, I’ve been feeling too warm for a while. This isn’t my heat.
