Page 17 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

“If you feel you’re becoming disoriented, call emergency services. And ma’am? If your scent spikes badly, put damp towels at the bottom of your doorway.”

“Is this supposed to be reassuring?”

“It’s advice.” Keys again. “So you’re booked in for nine-fifteen. Most omegas stay in pre-heat for days, so you should be fine.” The call ended.

I sank into the water and the heat eased. My muscles relaxed as steam wrapped around my shoulders, and I twisted my hair up with both hands and put my head back against the rim.

Then the water turned too hot, and my skin turned traitor, and I climbed out dripping and furious.

I grabbed the towel and wrapped it around myself, tucking the edge between my breasts, and marched back into the bedroom, where my bag was sitting on the duvet with the self-soothing aids inside it.

I smiled. There were three of them.

I’d bought them online with the grim practicality of an omega who dated a beta and believed in being prepared. Silicone, expensive, knot-based, and currently better than any man I had ever dated.

I set the black zip pouch on the bed. “This is fine.”

Then my phone lit up with Damien’s name.

I let it ring out. It started again. I closed my eyes and let that one go too. On the third, I picked up. “What?”

“Where are you?”

No greeting and no apology.

“In a hotel.”

The silence lasted a moment before his imagination caught up with his mouth. “With whom?”

I looked at the pouch on the duvet.

Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was four months of being reasonable at a man who kept reading it as weakness. I unzipped the pouch and took out the first one.

“At the moment,” I said, “I’ve three dicks to choose from, and every one of them has a knot.”

“What the hell, Marli?”

I held it up and smiled at my reflection in the dark window. Wet hair, fever cheeks, and a deranged face.

“Are you with some alphas?”

“No, Damien. I have knotty polymers.”

“Don’t be a bitch.”

The word landed badly. Even though I’d heard worse and said worse. It was the speed of it, and the way his worry had converted straight into accusation the second my choices stopped orbiting him.

“Careful,” I said.

“Are you cheating on me?”

“That’s ambitious, given you told me hours ago we were never exclusive.”

“Are you with alphas?” His voice dropped and hardened. “You know how I feel about that.”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t.” His old bruise, hauled out and set down between us as evidence.