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And the world can wait until tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
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PEACHES
We refine our act.
We perform for Gideon and Abel.
I act like Javi hurts me, like he’s my greatest enemy, like I despise him. I follow the rules, keep my head down, stay on a leash like a good, obedient mate.
I wait for my family to come and rescue us.
Two whole weeks pass like that.
Every day pretending I hate him, every night spent skin to skin, losing myself in the pleasure of Javi’s touch. We barely talk because we don’t know who’s listening—but when we do, it’s a push and pull. I talk about the future because it helps me get through this, he’s afraid that discussing what’s to come will break him.
I can’t wait until we’re free of this…until he feels like he’s allowed to hope.
I have to believe that will be soon, even though I haven’t heard from my people since that one call.
Ephraim ignores me, Abel harasses me, Gideon watches like a hawk. The days come and go—Javi leaves to go fishing or for hard labor, I stay at the citadel with the other silent omegas and clean and cook. At night, Javi and I embrace and finally speak freely…and we fuck and fuck andfuck. We fall into a pattern, dancing around rebellion until I sometimes forget that I ever lived anywhere else.
Gideon’s tactics work.
He suppresses us until we’re docile.
And then, one day, I wake up nauseous.
Every scent seems stronger and sharper as the world comes to life around me, the slight sway of the Rig feeling like I’m on a sea-tossed ship. I frown and nestle into Javi’s side, breathing him in deeply. His scent is the only thing that’s nice about the waking world, and I let out a little moan at just how good it is.
His cock twitches against my thigh, still wedged between my legs. He was inside me when we fell asleep; his knot must have let me go at some point in the night, though I’m ready for him to fuck me again. I thrum with pleasure and move to kiss him, then my stomach turns again.
I roll over and hurl myself out of bed, stumbling behind the curtain to the toilet. It doesn’t afford much privacy, especially since I tear it partially off the ceiling when I fall to my knees and start puking. I empty my stomach completely, but there’s still something there—a low-level, simmering nausea that tugs on my whole body, making my head swim.
Javi is already on his knees behind me when I throw up again, holding my hair back. He rubs my back with his free hand, quiet in the aftermath, the only sound my ragged breathing. The sensation finally settles and I sit back on my heels, resting my head back against Javi’s chest.
“I don’t know what that was,” I whisper. “Just felt…so sick. Maybe what I ate last night…?”
The excuses are a farce. We both know what’s happening here.
I just didn’t know it was possible outside of my heat…and so fast…
Javi ducks his head against the side of my neck, breathing into my hair. His hands settle heavy on my hips to pull me into his lap, and I can feel his chest rise and fall as he inhales and exhales.
It wasn’t the full moon.
Ever since I was a girl, I’ve been taught that breeding is only possible during the full moon for lycan. Suyin walked Tilda and I through it one time on a whim, insistent that I get the birds and the bees talk from someone who wasn’t a crazed cultist. Lycan have different cycles, with less time for fertility, a much smaller window where we go crazy and can almost guarantee a pregnancy.
But I wasn’t in heat.
I wasn’t in heat.
Javi doesn’t say anything, just holding me closer. I let him pull me into his lap and I tuck my head against his chest, breathing in the soothing scent of him, knowing he smells so good for one reason.
The same reason I’m nauseous.
