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I made them a fucking beef wellington with homemade puff pastry! I made a three layer chocolate cake! They can’t even bother to show up or reach out, check in. To spend time with me. Or to give me the courtesy of knowing where they went and when they’ll be back.
I bite my lip as tears threaten. Fuck. I’ve never wanted to cry as much as I do right now. I know on some level that it’s the new omega hormones I have coursing through my body. Omegas need alphas, and once they find their alphas in particular, it’s hard to be away from them.
Scent matches make it even more difficult.
I had heard that alphas who have found their scent matches are overly possessive and domineering. They need to know their mate is safe and taken care of. This doesn’t seem to be the case for me. Not even a little. They aren’t here and they don’t seem to feel the same need I do. The pull toward each other. The ache of being apart.
Maybe I’m wrong about them being my scent matches.
I have nothing to base it off of. No reason to believe it to be the case other than that I feel it.
But what the hell good is a feeling, if this is the way I’m going to be treated?
Maybe I should ask Sylvie. Maybe she can give me some insight… Maybe she can meet me and we can hang out and talking with her will help me feel better about this situation.
Or maybe I can just… leave.
My eyes flick toward the elevator and the security pad there. They haven’t bothered to put me into the system. Surely the elevator doesn’t keep people in. It should only keep unsavories out. Right?
Yeah. I can just leave. Grab my car and…
Fuck.
Fuck!
My car. It’s parked on the street near The Market. It has been since yesterday, which means I at least have a ticket, but it might have been towed by now.
Why didn’t I think about this last night, or this morning when I was out with Logan? Oh, I know why. I was dick drunk. Luca and Ethan made me dick drunk and then Swift licked me until I came three times and orgasms made me stupid.
I need to move my car.
Or better yet, I need to just get my car and head home.
Yeah.
That’s what I need.
Decided, I leave the rest of the cleaning up as it is. The foods all put away, and that’s the only part that really needs to get done. Those assholes can finish the dishes when they come back to an empty fucking apartment.
I head into the tiny windowless room and double check that there isn’t anything of mine in there. It’s empty. My bag is in the bathroom, since that’s where I got ready this morning before leaving to get a morning after pill with Logan.
I pause in the bathroom, thinking about the morning, about running into Dr. Schwab and how Logan had been all alpha protective over me.
Was that just because I’m an omega, or because he thinks of me as his omega? I know I must have been putting out some indicators in my scent about how I feel about the doctor. It’s a thing omegas do, and I don’t have any experience with tempering my emotions in order to avoid broadcasting what I’m feeling in my scent.
Something I need to work on.
Right now, I know my scent is turning tart with hurt, flooding the bathroom and down the hall.
Its fucking annoying is what it is.
I wonder if one of those big box stores is still open, so I can get some cheap scent canceling soap before I head home.
I pick up my bag and toss it over my shoulder, fully intending to stride out of the penthouse, flashing double birds at the pack that clearly doesn’t want me. But just as I turn toward the door, my omega wails at me, refuses to let me take that step.
Because my stupid new designation wants me to stay with the pack, with my bonded mate. It wants me to climb the stairs and find the nest that I know is up there and burrow under a mountain of blankets that smell like all of them, and punish them with the silent treatment until they figure out a way to make this up to me.
I grit my teeth against the tugging urge.
