One hint of my bonded alpha on the breeze and all the strength I’ve acquired over the last year and a half dissolves into a fine powder.
I’m weak. Weak and powerless against our bond.
I can’t do this.
I’m going to die.
A weak little omega bitch who is going to die on the floor of a bathroom in a strip club because my alpha finally found me.
And even as I hear what sounds like a battering ram against the outside door, as dark spice and orchids creep into my senses, I give up. As my vision truly does go black and my skin goes cold and clammy, all I can do is pray that death comes quickly.
If it doesn’t, if I’m actually supposed to survive this and face my bonded mate, I’ll end up killing myself anyway, far too slowly for my liking.
But all I can think is, I don’t want to do that to Liv and Rune, or that back stabbing jackass, either.
CHAPTER 19
RUNE
ATWA - SYSTEM OF A DOWN
With a growl, I throw my shoulder against the bathroom door, using my size as a tool until the goddamn thing finally gives under my weight.
The reinforced metal buckles and folds in the middle as the hinges at the top pop from the frame, the deadbolt resisting a little, catching inside the wall before it pushes through with a screech. I crouch down some and ram my shoulder into it again, level with the knob that doesn’t have nearly as much strength as the lock above it and I push through until the remnants of steel are bent back far enough they’re touching the floor behind it.
I take a deep breath as I step over the last piece, the last shred of this door preventing me from getting to my omega and when I don’t see anything but his boots sticking out from under a stall, this foreign feeling of fear spikes to a new high. Less than three strides has me standing in front of it and without hesitation, I grab either side of the frame and rip it right out of the tile floor then toss it behind me as I drop to my knees.
“Nikolai,” I whisper as I reach for him, quickly pulling him into my arms.
He’s out cold. Not necessarily unconscious, he’s physically exhausted but still lucid enough to be considered a little more than asleep. He is a mess, though. Panic stricken. Shaking and whimpering, I can see the tear stains on his cheeks as fresh ones flow from his eyes and follow those same tracks, and judging by where we are, there’s no doubt my omega is in here because he was going to be sick.
Anxiety. A panic attack. That’s what happened to my omega.
I grunt as I fall back on my ass, scooting until my back is against the wall as I cradle Nikolai to my chest. I try to reposition him comfortably in my lap and start to slowly rock from side to side, purring involuntarily as I lift my hand and unstick his hair from his face.
My omegas are truly beautiful.
Beautiful and more than I could ever ask for, even if I don’t deserve them.
My fingers itch to touch his skin, to soothe whatever sent him into a frenzy and despite how unworthy I feel, I let them.
They softly slide over his brow, pushing a few more blond strands from his sun kissed skin before gently following the definition of his cheek bone toward his jaw.
Nikolai’s breathing slows as I do it again, my omega turning his face toward my chest, pressing his nose against my shirt as his trembling hand lifts to clutch the same material.
I freeze as Nikolai leans into me, nuzzling closer on a whine, desperately holding onto me as if I’m the only thing anchoring him to the ground we’re sitting on. My hands lift, my body stills, and the low hum building in my chest comes to a screeching halt.
“Please,” he chokes out. “Please, keep doing that.”
I clear my throat, ready to ask which he’s referring to but I don’t have to.
Nikolai pulls himself up higher until he can burrow into the side of my hood, until his face is pressed to the side of my neck where he breathes so deeply that it steals my breath.
“All of it,” he says as he rubs his cheek against the erratic pulse pounding under my skin. He grips the back of my shirt tighter, pulling as if he’s trying to share my clothes because he can’t get close enough. “I didn’t think anything would change how I was feeling but I was wrong.” When the scruff on his chin grazes my collarbone and when the hand on my chest moves to the back of my neck, I finally realize what he’s doing.
Nikolai is scenting me.
He’s found comfort in my scent, in my presence, and while it seems to help, it’s not enough right now.
