Page 54 of Heat Lightning

“You tried fucking other people, but I haven’t. Maybe all we need to break the bond is for my heat to finally come and go. Another alpha’s knot could do that. You wouldn’t have to lower yourself to be with someone like me, after all.”

His hands balled into fists. How difficult it must be for him to picture the omega he didn’t want with another alpha. Poor baby. “Who?”

I lifted an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “Hmm?”

“Who?” he growled, stalking closer. “Who do you care about? Who is so worthy of being the first alpha to share your heat with?”

His mocking words poured gasoline all over me, even as the hair on the back of my neck stood on end—an involuntary prey response when a predator was near.

I shrugged a shoulder, not letting on how much it affected me. How much he affected me. “You wouldn’t know him,” I replied, nose in the air.

Hopefully he couldn’t smell the lie.

His eyes searched mine. So many things were locked behind that mask—the one he kept on for me. “Is that what you want?”

I nodded.

“Words.” The command was far more sinister than it had been earlier. “Say it out loud, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” I hissed, again hoping he couldn’t smell lies. “I didn’t choose you. I don’t even know your fucking name. Why wouldn’t I want to make sure I’d tried everything else before dragging someone like you into this?”

His gaze shuttered. Good. I hoped he realized how awful it felt to be on the receiving end.

He gave me one last appraising look. “I hope he makes it good for you.” Then, he spun on his heel and walked out the door, taking all the air in the room with him.

I think I would’ve felt better if he’d slammed it, or shown any emotion other than blank disinterest.

But he didn’t, because the truth was he didn’t care about me at all. It merely closed behind him with a soft snick, like a gentle bomb detonating in his wake.

FOURTEEN

THE MASKED MAN

I threw up twice on the way to the car and barely had the door closed before I buried my face in my hands and let out a guttural roar.

You wouldn’t be my first choice either, you know.

My alpha gnawed at the chains around its neck and raked its claws along the hot coals of my soul.

I pictured Max the night before, writhing and undone with cum all over his belly. Then I imagined someone else, an alpha who wasn’t me tending to him while he was needy and vulnerable, fetching him a bottle of water before making sure he was soft and ready to take, hovering above him, pounding into him, knotting him. Touching him with hands that didn’t deserve to know how soft his skin was. Keeping him safe and warm in the nest Max made for him, and not me.

The motherfucker probably wouldn’t even know his favorite flavor of Gatorade was Light Blue.

I wanted my first heat with a partner to be with an alpha I cared about. Someone who knew how to take care of me. I wanted it to mean something.

I let out another raw shout. Fuck however long my body had left; if I had to endure Max sharing this heat with someone else, I’d rather take a bath with a goddamn toaster. Actually, no. I’d stick my head in a blender. I deserved it, for being the stupidest person alive.

Why did I keep fucking this up so spectacularly? For the briefest moment, Max was laughing—laughing—in the same room as me. With me.

Well, maybe more like at me, but he seemed genuinely happy to realize I was more than a scary mask and a knife. It even felt like we’d come to some form of understanding. Like he believed me, and was ready to help end this two-year-long disaster my life had turned into.

And then I had to go and say the stupidest shit imaginable.

I thought he’d want to know I didn’t just run to him begging for sex without knowing it was the only way we could fix this. There was already so much I hadn’t told him, so many unspoken truths I hadn’t shared; lying about this felt wrong.

But then he wouldn’t let me explain what had actually happened before making it super fucking clear I wasn’t someone he’d ever want, anyway. Not for real; not without forever associating the way I made him feel with that piece of shit rapist.

Hot rage bolstered me, pulling me out of the pits of nausea and honing the pain in my head like a blade.