“He seems really nice,” I say, hoping that I’m not crossing a line.
Rhett’s dark eyes meet mine, and I can suddenly see all the exhaustion pent up inside him. Things with his company have been hectic these last few weeks. I’m sure all this Oli stuff isn't helping.
“Come on.” Rhett reaches over and gives my hip a gentle pat. “Up.” He stands, his voice softening. “Let me help you out of this ridiculous dress before you fall asleep sitting up.”
I roll my eyes, but stand.
He moves behind me, slowly tugging the zipper down my back with careful hands, pausing to press a kiss to the nape of my neck. His fingertips are warm, caressing my skin as the bodice releases me.
The dress pools around my ankles, and I step out of it with a sigh of relief.
“You were incredible tonight,” he murmurs and I turn, allowing him to pull me against his bare chest. “I’m really proud of you.”
“Thank you.” I duck my head, and he kisses my forehead.
“Let’s get you into bed.”
I nod, then crawl up into my spot, but I’m too restless to sleep. I’m too twisted up inside. Myrick’s crying in the next room, Charlie is sick down the hall, and Rhett looks like he went ten rounds with the worst memory of his life.
Trying to be a good omega, I lean my head on Rhett’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent of hazelnut and chocolate.
Just relax,I tell myself.
But I can’t help but think about Oli.
And Myrick.
And Charlie.
Everything feels like it’s falling apart.
That Night
Charlie
I wake to pain.
A deep, twisting, gut-wrenching cramp that punches the air right out of me. I curl onto my side, drenched in sweat. Every inch of me is on fire. My shirt feels like it’s made of sandpaper—too rough and tight, clinging to my skin like it's trying to peel me alive.
“Shit…” I rasp, then try to sit up. I reach for the little clock on my bedside table, trying to see what time it is, but the room spins violently, and my stomach lurches.
I’m gonna throw up.
Frantic, I manage to swing my legs out of bed, but the second I shift my weight, everything gives out. My knees buckle and I go down hard—face-first onto the floor with a painful thud. Cold wood slams against my cheek, but I don’t even try to move.
I’m too hot.
The shirt has to go.
I claw at the buttons, my fingers trembling as I rip them open. A couple pop loose, skittering across the floor. I don’t care. I need thisoffof me.
And then it hits—something worse than before. A wave of pressure in my core, sharp and blinding, like my body’s cracking open from the inside out. A vicious scream tears out of me before I can stop it. It’s raw. Loud. Desperate.
Footsteps barrel through the hallway, and a second later, my bedroom door slams open so hard it bounces off the wall.
Oli?
He’s shadow and muscle in the dim light—standing in the doorway in nothing but a pair of dark briefs, chest bare, skin glistening like he’d been pulled straight from sleep. His hair’s a mess. His eyes are wild. And his dick…
