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“You heard me,” she replies, clenching her jaw. It’s hard to tell if that’s because she’s mad at us or because her period is causing her pain. It’s apparently very light today—I’m not sure if we’re talking about the colour or what here, but since nobody else asked, I didn’t bother. It’s on my list of things to search later, though—but the cramps haven’t gone away, and she’s giving off a very strong scent of pain. “If you can’t even get through a simple dinner without causing fights, then you’re not getting through my heat without one either.”
“Of course, we will,” Mal soothes. “We’d never fight with you in a vulnerable state.”
“No, you won’t,” Nora says, shaking her head as tears fill her eyes. “Because I’m not going to let you be there.”
“Wait, what?” Fin asks, frowning. “You’re banning us from your heat?”
“You need us there, Nora,” Atticus says, using a tone of voice that she apparently doesn’t appreciate.
“Don’t you talk to me like I’m stupid,” she says, pointing a finger at him. “If you can’t get your shit together, then I’ll go through my heat with only Micah and Voss.”
Voss smirks, but Micah seems confused as to why he’s been chosen. Or maybe he’s confused because he has no idea what to do during a heat.
He might have a cock, but I know he’s got no idea how to use it.
At least based on the packages he’s been receiving.
“You can’t ban us from your heat,” Mal says, his face dropping as he regards his mate. The scent of his hurt tickles my nostrils, and if Nora wasn’t in such a terrible mood, I’d make fun of him for it.
“Watch me,” she snarls. Orson goes to touch her, but she bats his hand away and glares at each of us in turn. “Kat expects my heat to start in a week of my period ending, and I give it till tomorrow before the bleeding stops.”
“Tomorrow?” Micah asks, surprised.
“We’ve been back for just over a week,” Nora says, shooting me a dirty look here. Me. Can’t she see the others at the table? The ones worse than me? “And you’ve made no progress, despite promising otherwise.”
“It’s only Tuesday, little queen,” Atticus says desperately. “Can we… give us until the weekend, and we’ll all be on the same page.” She doesn’t rescind on her threats or agree with him, and he sighs, turning to me with a pleading expression. “Cev, please, can we talk?”
“No.” I revel in Atticus’s pain, loving the way his face shuts down, the way the anger and hurt he’s feeling fills the air. It fuels me.
What doesn’t fuel me, however, is the stench of disappointment from my mate. She’s glowering at me, and I hate that I can’t be what she needs.
But giving in to Atticus, letting this be on his terms and not mine, is a move I refuse to make.
He thinks he’s the king here, but he’s not.
He’s pathetic.
You’re pathetic.
Well, at least we’re both pathetic.
“Then get out,” Nora says quietly. Her tone is flat, her eyes empty. She’s distancing herself from this situation, and it pisses me off. “I refuse to finish this family dinner because we’re not a family right now. You’re all going to leave, and I’m going to go do my jigsaw with Micah. Nobody else is invited.”
She turns to Voss, and he nods, so she must have said something to him silently. I wonder what, considering he’s not upset that he doesn’t get to join in with the pathetic jigsaw.
“You can’t—” Orson starts.
“Watch me,” she snaps, anger filling her voice. This isn’t her making these demands, though, and we all know it. Her usually brown eyes are a gorgeous amber, her scent more earthy rather than just pure cherries, and her voice is an octave or two deeper.
Nora’s wolf is in charge right now, and she’s not going to budge.
If Nora tried to stop us from being with her during her heat, her wolf would revolt and make her miserable in an effort for them both to get what they need.
But if her wolf is making these demands? Without Nora? We’re not getting in there, no matter what.
Fuck.
