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“You’re right,” I snark, “Master Zane.”
Because I am not giving up a free meal, I eat in silence while talking to myself…mentally of course, since I can’t have him thinking I need a grippy sock vacation.
He’s meaningless. I need to show him I am better off without him. I’ll eat my food and walk the fuck out.
Barely breathing, I finish my meal as Zane watches carefully, his head cocked to the side.
“Excuse me,” I tell him with saccharine sweetness. “I need to use the little girl’s room.”
He gives me a sharp nod as I stand.
I make my way to the restroom, the clacking of my shoes on the linoleum floor echoing in the quiet diner. Once inside, I lean against the sink and take a deep breath. Zane’s words replay in my mind, cutting deeper than I want to admit.
I stare at my reflection in the grubby mirror. “Get it together, Aria,” I whisper. I’ve been through worse and come out stronger. I won’t let some arrogant, closed off alpha get under my skin.
Straightening my shoulders, I walk out of the bathroom and right out the backdoor, already dialing Cayenne before the door even shuts.
I cut off her greeting before it even begins. “Get me the fuck out of here.”
“On it,” Cayenne responds without missing a beat. “What happened? Do I need to bring the baseball bat?”
Her fierce loyalty makes me smile, despite everything. “No bat needed. Just…a lot to process. I’ll explain when I feel safe.”
“Ten minutes,” she promises. “Hang tight, babe.”
As I wait in the shadows behind the diner, my emotions war within me. Part of me wants to run back inside to Zane, while another part wants to run as far away as possible. But Cayenne’s getting me a ride, and she’s the only constant I can trust right now.
Because there is only one person a girl can ever depend on—her best friend.
13
ARIA
This is not happening. This can’t be happening.
I grab the heat suppressant, my hands shaking as I fumble with the packaging. Part of me screams to just toss it back, but I force myself to read the directions. “Take one tablespoon with food, may cause drowsiness…” I swallow hard. Desperation’s a bitch, but I’m not stupid enough to ignore these warnings. Not when my life depends on it.
Except when another cramp ricochets through me and I take it anyway.
I feel a burning, aching sensation spread through my veins, making my skin hypersensitive to every touch. My core throbs with need, the insistent pulse demanding attention. The air feels too thick to breathe, and my mind is a whirl of conflicting desires and fears. Memories of previous heats flood my mind—the lack of control and desperation. I shudder, trying to focus on anything other than the growing heat inside me.
I will not beg for a knot. Nope, absolutely not. I will not take a knot, and I will not beg for a bite. Omegas are supposed to submit, to crave that connection, but I’ve always been different. I’ve built my life on independence, refusing to let biology dictate my choices. Each second feels like a battle, my willpower waning against the primal urge. I continue the mantra until all the sensations subside, clinging to the identity I’ve crafted for myself.
“In a quaint little town, not too far, not too near, lived an omega named Aria, full of good cheer, but one sunny day, much to her dismay, she felt quite peculiar in a most curious way,” I sing as I grab the second thermometer from my pharmacy delivery bag and rip open the package. “Her pulse it did race, her cheeks they did flush, her heart started beating with a loud whoosh and rush. ‘Oh dear!’ she exclaimed, ‘What could this all mean? I’ve never felt feelings so vibrant and keen!’ Her friends?—”
One hundred and five point seven.
“No!” I wail and whine and toss that thermometer across the room of my dingy little apartment. I have one left, but a heat flash rides through my body, causing me to shake uncontrollably. My vision blurs for a moment, and I grip the edge of the counter to steady myself.
I stumble to the bathroom, my body trembling with the onset of my preheat. I clutch the edges of the sink, staring at my flushed face in the mirror, sweat pouring down my face.
“This can’t be happening,” I mutter through gritted teeth. As an unmated omega in my mid-twenties, I’ve prided myself on suppressing my heats through sheer willpower alone, but now my body is betraying me in the most primal way. It feels like a cruel joke, my own biology turning against me, mocking my attempts at independence. Memories of past struggles flood my mind, the times I barely made it through without succumbing.
So rude.
A fresh wave of heat rolls through me, and a needy whine escapes my throat. My skin is so sensitive that even the brush of my clothes against my body makes me shudder.
I know I won’t make it through this heat alone. I need an alpha’s help, but the thought of submitting to some random knot-head on the street makes my skin crawl.
