“Heat?” Drax repeats, wobbling on his feet. “Here?”
“Can’t you smell it?” Izzie snaps. “Every alpha in this section is about to lose their mind.”
I try to speak, but another cramp has me pausing to catch a breath. I’m clutching my midsection when a low, primal roar comes from the row behind us, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.
“Stop him!” someone yells.
My omega instincts go on high alert, sensing a threat. My legs will me to run, but the gnarly pain in my stomach keeps me hunched over, unable to move. Dread coils around my lungs when an unpleasant smell grows closer. Alpha pheromones that definitely do not belong to anyone in the Strike Pack.
“Omega.” I look up to see an alpha leering at me from behind us, his teeth snapping and his eyes blown out into dark, soulless pits. “Mine!”
There’s so much chaos happening around us and bustling bodies that it makes escaping impossible. Drax uses his body asa human shield as the rogue alpha holds up his fists to take him on.
“Hold him back!” Izzie shrieks as surrounding fans try to haul him away from me. He thrashes in their arms like a wild animal. I’ve never seen an alpha go into a rut in public, but the signs are unmistakable: the nonsensical snarling and the terrifying, single-minded focus. Focus that’s set on me.
“B-b-but I’m bonded,” I manage to say while Drax yells instructions at those attempting to restrain him.
“It’s still early days. Your body must still be adjusting,” Izzie explains frantically. “Or you just smell too damn good for his instincts to care. We need to leave.”
I watch in horror as the fans struggle to contain the rutting alpha. As I feared, he somehow manages to wrestle out of their grasp. I can barely breathe as he lunges forward, propelling himself over the seats, bumping straight into Izzie and sending her toppling over onto her side.
“Izzie!” I yell hopelessly, seeing her splayed on the ground.
“Step away from my omega,” a low, rumbling voice commands. I peer around Drax to see Orin, looking lethal in his black shirt, his jaw set in a determined line. He grabs the crazed alpha, twisting his arms behind his back with a sickening pop before snapping handcuffs into place. “This will hold you.” He looks at me, his eyes hooded with his own lust as he catches my scent. “Get her out of here, Drax. Now.”
Izzie’s back on her feet again, looking shell-shocked but mostly okay.
“Are you okay, Izzie?” Right now, she’s my number one concern.
“Don’t worry about me! A little fall isn’t going to keep me down.” She winces as she cradles her wrist. “You need to get out of here.”
“Backup and an escort requested.” Orin puts a finger to his earpiece, barking out orders. “Row twelve, seats eight and nine.”
Drax glances out at the rink where the SVU Foxes appear to be celebrating their win. “What about Adler?”
“We’ll meet you at home,” Orin replies. “Sabs needs to go.”
Luca has also found his way toward us, his face flushed. “Sabs!” He’s obviously concerned, a palm on his chest and a sheen of sweat covering his forehead. “What’s happening?” He inhales deeply, recoiling in what I can only assume is surprise from the sheer potency of my scent. “Oh, shit.”
“Luca, you need to check Izzie’s wrist,” I bite out through my own pain. “She’s hurt.”
“Luca, take Izzie to the medics,” Orin orders. “Drax, move. Now!”
Drax doesn’t hesitate. He scoops me up into his arms then marches through the stands, clutching me tightly to his chest like I’m his most prized possession.
“Drax…” I whimper. “It hurts.”
He strides purposefully, not having to stop when he’s waved through a back exit by Rook. I gulp in the fresh air, overwhelmed by the brightness of the sun and the heat of its rays as we reach the parking lot. He races to our car, loading me into the passenger seat with careful tenderness, as if he’s afraid of breaking me. Despite my discomfort, I can’t help noticing the caution he uses as he fastens my seatbelt, amplifying my hunger.
“Drax… I need?—”
“You need to be in your nest,” he states through gritted teeth.
My slick pools on the leather seat beneath me as Drax gets into the driver’s seat and speeds off, tires squealing. His nostrils flare and knuckles turn white. From how his pheromones are going into overdrive, he’s fighting his own biology just to keep his hands on the wheel.
As the car tears through campus, I’m thankful that the roads are ghostly quiet because of the game. After a few minutes, I can’t stop myself from slipping a hand between my legs, rubbing against the damp fabric of my leggings. When I let out a needy moan, Drax steals a glance at me, swallowing hard.
“Fuck, Sabs.” His deep, gravelly voice only makes me wetter.
