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Wally’s voice prickles down my spine as Dr. Monroe offers me a kind look, conspicuously devoid of any judgment or second-hand embarrassment.
“That will happen,” he informs, calm and collected. “Now that Tristan is your alpha, his barks may have that effect. In fact, you will generally experience more potent physical cravings and heat-spikes because of the half-bond. It’s natural. Nothing to be ashamed of. But it’s also no reason for you ever to feel pressured into anything. Ultimately, you’ll have to decide what feels best for you.”
He really is nice. Whoever bonded him knew what was up. Unlike my looney Omega, who clearly wants us to get ripped to shreds like beef jerky.
I can tell the second my fresh perfume slips under the door, because the Thorne brothers are suddenly very quiet. Avery turns back to me, jaw flexing, eyes wild.
And I should be afraid. That would make sense.
But the second we look at one another, I just feel my nipples pebble harder.
He cuts a clean path to the table, going back to his knees and cupping his rough palms over my fishnet-covered knees. “You don’t have to come with us,” he growls, low and fervent. “Fuck those assholes. I’ll wrestle them out of here right now.”
I try to picture that—Avery, rolling Tristan and Spencer out of here. The image is almost enough to make me huff a laugh, but then I remember: If they go without me, I’ll have to wait here for Wally. Or take my chances on the streets.
A frantic whine whips up my throat before I can stop it. Avery’s beatific face creases. His fingers twitch against the sensitive skin on the insides of my knees.
“Okay, kitten, we won’t leave without you,” he husks. “You sure you want to hitch your wagon to all this crazy?”
My Omega is numbly terrified, half-gripping my reins in a frozen fist. She can’t speak or think or really even breathe. Nothing scares her like Wally does. She wants me to get the hell out of here and hide where he’ll never think to look for us.
I wish I could reason with her.
Then again, how would I do that? I know, logically, that I should be safe at a police station, but…
Well, I wasn’t, was I?
Being here didn’t stop an alpha—Tristan; and, no, we are not thinking about how hot that name is—from taking what he wanted from me.
Who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? These guys are still oozing pheromones, but at least they’ve been shot up with God-knows-how-many rut-blockers. Any other alpha who walks in here won’t be as safe as these four.
And, Lord, what would Wally do with me now that he wouldn’t have to worry about making sure no one bites me?
I look into Avery's eyes and try to breathe. It’s hard, and I don’t quite manage it—but the baby blue streaks carved into the ice of his irises help my lungs expand a tiny bit.
I nod. My hand falls on his, squeezing.
Please don’t throw me to the wolves, dude.
His gaze glints, understanding. “I’ll be there,” he vows, answering the question I couldn’t scrape out. “No one will touch you.” He looks down at his own hands and gives me that one-quarter-smirk. “Much.”
chapter
fourteen
Serena rides home in Avery’s car, and I don’t let anyone argue.
When I said she gets whatever she wants, I meant it.
Even though, the second there’s more than half a block between us, a sharp pinch of pain embeds itself in my center.
By the time we reach the Bentley, it’s so bad I can’t think around it. Jonah must have been listening to all of Archer’s warnings, because he doesn’t seem surprised. He shakes his head in a you-poor-bastard gesture and slides into the backseat with me.
The ride home is silent and seething. Spencer drives, his fists tightening and relaxing reflexively on the wheel. I focus on the way his knuckles blanch to keep from groaning in agony.
Fuck.
It feels unnatural. Like there’s something being ripped from the spot where my soul should be.
