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Or Remi’s underwear. Whatever.
I’m embarrassed to admit that it takes this long for me to realize I am… in a bed?
Dr. Monroe seems to see the exact moment horror hooks its talons into me. His smile fades, and his eyes fill with compassion. Actual, visible compassion. When he explains, his voice is concerned but calm. Calming.
“You lost consciousness while you were on your tour. Ronan carried you to me, but the damage was done. A lot of alphas had scented you.” He leans away slightly and clears his throat, looking down at his shoes. “He probably would have called me to come to you, but I don’t think he was in his right mind. We had to get you out of there and somewhere safe.”
I struggle to raise my head off the pillow below and look around. The all-white room is plush, but devoid of any sort of personality. Off to the side, two French doors hang open, revealing a little balcony surrounded by a lush canopy of palm trees. A mockingbird starts up, harmonizing with the late-summer cicadas. Somewhere in the distance, a fountain or pool bubbles.
“This is our guest room,” Archer murmurs. “It seemed as good a place as any to weather a heat-spike.”
Our gazes meet. His eyes are somehow sharply intelligent and warm with understanding. I might be swept away by them, if I weren’t so worried about what, exactly, he understands.
“You’re an omega.”
He says it softly, without any accusation or judgment. I squeeze my eyes closed, nodding. “I-I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have lied to apply for the job, but?—”
He hums thoughtfully. “You needed it.”
I crack my eyelids open, terrified of seeing any disappointment or anger on his face. But he simply watches me, curious and solemn.
I nod again. “Y-yes. It was—it is—not the best situation.” I wave a hand at my soaked, borrowed underwear. “Clearly.”
His full lips quirk down. “I understand that better than you may think, but you were in real danger there.” He glances down at his rigid posture and chuffs. “You still are. I took an emergency dose of rut-blockers, and your perfume has settled, but none of this is safe for you, Megera. We would have been destroyed if one us hurt you by accident.”
I stare at him and he doesn’t waver, looking back steadily. Usually, it’s hard for me to hold eye contact with an alpha like this. Their dominance can be stifling. Most of them project it without even realizing.
Not Archer. He sighs and lowers himself to the foot of the queen-sized bed. Purposely putting our faces on the same level so as not to loom over me.
The motion hits my heart like a stray lightning bolt. A low whine leaks out of me before I can stop it.
His entire face softens as he leans in. Ginger spice grows thicker in the air. My muscles go lax everywhere except my core, which contracts painfully. When I set my hands over my lower belly and wince, he tracks the movement.
“What do you need?” he asks, that dark gaze imploring me. “Anything. Say it and it’s yours.”
I don’t know where to begin. So many foreign urges swirl through me. I’m used to avoiding alphas—always skirting around them as carefully as possible.
But these men make me want to reach out and touch. They have me wishing I could offer them things I have no business even considering.
Is this what happens in scent-sensitive packs?
Are we—am I?—?
No.
My mind fights every impulse inside of me, struggling for reason.
No, it’s not possible.
Remi’s doubtful face flashes through my head. Her challenging, direct stare while she asked, “Why not?”
I guess she has a point. I know this happens. There are tons of studies on it. Not to mention, all of the scent-matched omega influencers who humble-brag about their mates at every opportunity. I always sort of assumed they were lying. Or exaggerating.
But if this whole thing is real and it actually happens to people… why not me?
Because you’ve never been a good omega, and you have no idea how to be one for these successful, high-profile men.
Another pathetic whimper escapes while my mind reels, trying to imagine what that would even look like. Dr. Monroe seems pained by the sound. His perfect teeth gnash in a grimace. He starts to reach for me, but stops before our hands touch.
