Shame floods through me so fast it turns my stomach.
My skin crawls at the crystal-clear, unforgiving playback of every sound I made, every desperate thing I did, every moment I clawed and begged and rubbed myself against innocent men who were trying to help me.
They must think I'm disgusting.
My hands are shaking as I bring them up and cover my face. I want to disappear so badly that it aches. Maybe I can sneak out of here before anyone wakes up. I can be a nightmare they lived through, but vanished before morning.
I’m planning my escape when the floorboard creaks behind me.
I flinch and my hands drop from my face, my whole body going rigid. A figure moves from the dim hallway into the kitchen. Tall and thin. Broad shoulders wrapped in a worn flannel robe, with silver-white hair cropped short.
A she-alpha.
My pulse spikes. Every instinct I've spent years practicing to hide kicks in at once. Don't make eye contact. Steady your breathing. Keep your body still. Don't react to her scent.
And her scent isstrong.
Rough, warm cinnamon with a slightly sweet edge that fills the small house as she moves through it. Thankfully, it's not aggressive or territorial.
The she-alpha opens a cabinet in the kitchen, pulls out a coffee filter, and puts it on the counter. Then she speaks without turning around.
"You're up." Her voice is soft and matter-of-fact.
I don't answer. I'm frozen on the couch, blanket pulled to my chin, staring at the back of this woman's head.
She glances over her shoulder. Sharp gray eyes findmine across the small room, but there’s something in her expression that almost looks friendly. "Coffee?"
The simple word hangs in the air. It’s so completely at odds with everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours that it almost makes me laugh.
"Yes, please," I say. My voice comes out hoarse, like I've been screaming.I probably was.
I push the blanket aside and slowly stand, my legs trembling. I step carefully around Perrin's sleeping form and make my way to the kitchen, lowering myself into one of the wooden chairs at the table. My whole body instantly curls inward, trying to look smaller. Easier to ignore.
The she-alpha moves through her kitchen quietly, filling the pot with water and putting grounds in the filter. The machine gurgles to life, and the smell of fresh coffee starts filling the room.
"I'm Odette," she says, pulling two mugs from the cabinet. "Raff's mother."
"Elowen," I say softly.
"I know." She sets a mug in front of me. It has a faded rooster on it. "Cream or sugar?"
"Black is fine."
We wait quietly for the coffee to be ready, then she pours for both of us before settling into the chair across from me. She wraps her long fingers around a pale blue mug then takes a sip, studying me over the rim. The clock on the wall ticks.
"So, Elowen." She puts her drink down with a quiet click. Her gray eyes are locked on mine and it takes everything in me not to look away. They’re not unkind, but not soft either. "What's your story, sweetheart?"
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Because how do I answer that? Where do I even start?
I'm a late-transitioned omega who's been hiding her designation. I work at a black market pharmacy. I went into heat yesterday and sexually assaulted your son-in-law's entire pack. Oh, and your son carried me over his shoulder through a field of feral alphas while people shot at us.
I close my mouth, and look down at the rooster on my mug. My fingers tighten around the ceramic.
"It's a long story," I whisper.
Odette opens her mouth to respond, but heavy footsteps in the hallway stop her. Then Cliff rounds the corner into the kitchen.
