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I smile up at him, trying to look friendly instead of fucking turned on. “I won’t.”
Reese’s pupils dilate ever so slightly, and I realize I’m leaning toward him, almost begging for a kiss… or something more.
Clearing my throat, I pull away. “I’m going to try to get some sleep,” I say.
Reese nods. “Good night then.”
I walk inside, trying not to imagine how it would feel to curl up in his arms.
Chapter Seven
~Haven~
I wake up sweating. I lift my hand to my brow, feeling the feverish skin and groaning. I’m on the edge of my heat, and I’m not ready. This room is nice enough; it has a lovely little window bench that looks out over the city, and there are sheer curtains over the windows that filter the light into something soft and cozy… but it’s not a nest. And I don’t think there is one in the house, which seems really inconsiderate.
Omegas are prone to stress. We rely on our environments to provide support and safety. One of the things that makes us feel safest is a nest—a cozy space filled with soft pillows and blankets where we can hole up. Without such a place, my stress level is only going to grow. Biting back a whimper, I open the closet and assess its potential. I could make a mini-nest in here in a pinch. I guess it will have to be enough.
A shiver runs up my spine, and a gush of slick rushes out of me. I’m wearing little sleep shorts that just aren’t enough to stop any moisture from leaking out, and I feel a trickle of hot liquid running down my inner thigh. A cramp tears through my gut, and I groan. It’s not my proper heat; that should be more than a week away, if I’m lucky. But a heat spike can be just as painful, just as desperate. I need relief.
Cursing to myself, I stagger into the bathroom and turn on the shower, letting it blast cold before I step under the stream. I cover my mouth to muffle my cry as I step under the cold water, shocking the spike right out of me.
I’m sure other people might think it’s stupid; I have an alpha down the hall, willing and able to help me through this. I brace my hands on the tile walls of the shower and breathe deeply, imagining the slick washing away from between my thighs, giving myself a mind-over-matter pep talk.
Sure, I could go knock on Reese’s door. But we barely know each other.
You went to a fucking spike house every heat for years,a voice in my head reminds me.
And it’s true; I would wait until I was desperate, every time. But every month, I would stagger up to a splintered door in a dark alleyway, and pay a feral alpha to take the edge off. Usually I went to the cheapest room in the spike house, and some disinterested asshole would smirk at me before using his hand to rub away the prickling pain of my heat. It was humiliating, ugly, and unpleasant. I hated every minute of it, but I needed it; needed the touch of an alpha to find relief.
No knotting, though; I didn’t have the money for that. I managed to scrape together enough for sex a couple times, but knotting was outside my budget.
There’s a little beeping sound, and a voice echoes through the bathroom. “Haven?”
It sounds like Arlo.
I shut off the water and step out into the empty bathroom, looking around curiously.
“Using the intercom here… that’s why you can hear me. If you can hear me. Um. So your first pack meet was supposed to be tonight, but they canceled, so it’s just going to be you and Reese again. Cameras are live in about an hour. Eat something first, ok?” The beeping sound repeats, which I assume means that he let go of the intercom button.
The pack canceled our meeting. I’m trying not to take that personally, but what other way is there to take it? They must have gotten one look at my picture and decided I wasn’t worth pursuing. Maybe it’s for the best, I tell myself. Better they reject me before they see me than in front of all those cameras.
I lean forward over the sink, staring into my own eyes. They’re blue, and I think they’re pretty. My hair is a lovely shade of red with blonde highlights, and it falls around my shoulders in big, glossy ringlets. It’s pretty, too, I think.
When I’m alone, I’m pretty good at seeing the good stuff about my appearance. But people expect a lot when it comes to an omega. They want someone slender and graceful and… perfect. And that’s never going to be me. I sigh as I start to get ready for the cameras.
At least the heat spike has passed. That’s something, anyway.
***
I eat a granola bar in my room—my appetite is not where it should be, probably from stress—then I slip on a black wrap dress I find in my closet.
Derek may be an asshole, but I can’t fault theOmega Girlswardrobe department. Whoever put these clothes here for me knew what they were doing. Every single piece looks gorgeous. I love the way this wrap dress cinches at my waist and then flares wide with my hips. I slip on a pair of flat gold sandals (we’re not leaving the house anyway, so what’s the point of heels?) and they glitter on my feet, making even my little toes look glamorous.
A few minutes before we’re supposed to start, I step out of my room, and almost bump into Arlo. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I say softly.
“No problem,” he replies. His hands come to my waist as he steadies me, though I was nowhere near falling over. I’m surprised when his palms settle against my sides, gripping me tightly. He doesn’t let go.
I stare up into his eyes, feeling suddenly shy. Where Reese has this animalistic sort of masculinity, Arlo is just plain beautiful. Long, dark lashes over dark green eyes, a chiseled jaw under a carefully manicured scruff… his skin is more sun-kissed than Reese’s, which I guess that makes sense, considering where Reese has spent most of his time.
