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My heart is beating painfully in my chest, and I have the sudden feeling like I'm going to be sick. My body propels itself forward, and I make it to the sink in time to dry heave. I drop my head to the cold metal sink, the cool temperature soothing my overheated skin. Breaths come short and fast, so I sink to the floor of the kitchen and shove my head between my legs. Everything is swimming. I feel dizzy.
I don't know how long I sit there, hyperventilating on the kitchen floor that I know for a fact is dirty since I never clean it, before the pain, dizziness, and nausea subside. All that's left is a heavy dose of fatigue and fear. I don't know if I can make it three more months of this. My vision has cleared, and when I look up, I lock eyes on my fridge. I push up to my feet, body protesting and muscles aching, and walk over to my salvation.
I yank the fridge door open, bottles rattling, and grab the tequila from the bottom shelf where it's laying on its side. I forgo the glass and take the entire bottle to bed with me, lifting up the covers and snuggling in deep, pulling extra blankets around to make a nice nest. The makeshift nest calms my nerves a fraction, enough for my breathing to regulate. Once I'm comfortable, I take a long pull from the tequila. I sputter and gag at the taste, but then take another.
And another.
And a few more for good measure.
Pretty soon the pain is gone, and I'm left with a euphoric, floaty feeling. I've made a good dent in the bottle, but it's starting to taste like water now, and I want this feeling to last a little longer, so I have one more drink and then put it on the nightstand beside the bed. I let out a happy sigh and shimmy down until I'm laying flat. The world spins a little, but after a few minutes, sleep finds me easy.
Eight
Summer
"Fuck,"I groan, readjusting my sunglasses and lowering my hat to shield more of the blazing sun. I swear to the Goddess it's taunting me today. Shining directly on me and causing nails to dance a persistent beat behind my eyes.
I dragged myself to the nearest café to get a coffee and something really bad for me in a hopeless effort to feel better. Not only for my wicked hangover but for my general emotional state. My sleep, while it came fast, did not come peaceful. My dreams were filled withthem.They started out sweet; much like the beginning of the relationship. Then they turned into round after round of nightmares.
As soon as I thought I'd woken up from a nightmare, I'd figure out it was just a nightmare within a nightmare. The alcohol, while temporarily solving a problem, just created another one, keeping me under in this endless loop of torture, until I was finally able to wake up. At which point, I hurtled my way through my ramshackle apartment and to the toilet, just in time to regurgitate the fifth of tequila I'd downed the night before.
So here I am, leaning my entire upper body against the counter top at a café, sipping my coffee and picking at my chocolate and raspberry filled pastry, trying like hell to keep it all down. The door chimes, and the scent of summer rain and freshly mowed grass fills the air, making me groan; not in pain this time. It's a mouthwatering scent that has my knees wanting to buckle. I turn around so fast my neck cricks. As I'm rubbing the pain away, my eyes lock with familiar hazel ones.
Mason.
He's part of Hudson and Brooklyn's pack. Pack Whitlock.
"Good Morning," he chirps happily, his beautiful smile lighting up the room. Two words, and I can already tell he's got an inviting, vivacious attitude. It draws me in immediately, as does his happy skip walk over to the counter where I'm leaning. He skids to a stop about a foot from me. I lean instinctually away as another wave of his delectable scent hits me. The worker asks him what he’d like, and he orders a dozen bakery items, three coffees, and an orange juice.
Meanwhile, I squeeze my eyes shut as I will a burst of perfume from escaping. How embarrassing would that be? The curse of an omega; it's like a siren call that screams,I find you worthy of masturbating to and want you to know it.It's biological. Something in our primal DNA that dates back to when all we were thought to be good for was procreating.
Not that it would be the end of the world if he knew I was physically attracted to him. Besides, look at the guy. All that sandy blonde hair and his goofy, infectious smile. I'm sure he just assumes everyone is attracted to him. But me? I'm not exactly in a place to date right now. If last night is anything to go by, at least.
"Funny seeing you here." He grins, one side of his mouth quirking up in an intensely seductive way, leaning in slightly as he says it. He sniffs discreetly and closes his eyes, a barely there groan escaping. "Do you–"
"Come here often?" I snort and then cringe when it causes my brain to pound inside my skull.
"I was actuallygoing to ask if you had a boyfriend. Or girlfriend," he asks with the smirk still on his face, but his question knocks me off my feet. The smile that had been forming slips away and cold detachment is all that's left. Like his words re-open the flood gate I'd had a momentary reprieve from, their emotions trickle back in through the cracks. He continues, oblivious to the tidal wave of emotions battering me from three different directions now. A little muffled, probably due to my still semi-drunk state. But I feel them nonetheless. "Goddess, that sounds juvenile. I just wanted to ask you out, but I didn't want to step on any toes if there was someone you–" Mason continues, oblivious to my internal struggles.
"I gotta go," I mumble to him and then move around Mason without looking at him.
"Summer, I..." he starts, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–" I shake my head and exit the café, the doorbell chiming as I do. The ache is back, and I rub my chest to relieve it. Great. Now I've got an entire day, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. Well, mine andtheirs.
I've got a mental wall up to keep their voices out, but their emotions flood me. It feels...full. Like I'm not living alone in my body anymore. There's so muchnoise.I'm fast-walking down the sidewalk back to my apartment and trying like hell to block everything out.
Goddess, I feel dizzy. I barely see the sidewalk, and I'm not even looking where I'm going. Tears are starting to form in my eyes as the anxiety builds, and all I can think about is getting home and drowning it all out again at the bottom of a bottle.
"Hey Su–oof." My head smacks against a hard chest, but that pain is chucked to the recesses of my mind as large arms envelope me to keep me from ricocheting and falling on my ass. I look up at the person attached to the tree trunks holding me steady and lock eyes with deep ocean blue ones. Hudson.
He's looking at me with concern, head tilted as he stares at me. It's then that I realize I'm shaking. I squeeze my eyes shut to concentrate on holding in the sob that is trying to break free. Malicious joy courses through my body that isn't coming from me, and it's enough of a distraction that the sob falls from my lips anyways.
A small noise of distress comes from Hudson in response; a second later, a whole new vibration is coursing through me.
He'spurringfor me.
My whole body goes limp with pleasure, all my muscles relax, and a sigh of bliss escapes me. An alpha's purr is extremely potent to an omega. It has the power to soothe an omega in distress or damn near throw one into heat. It is both a useful tool for stopping a meltdown and a powerful aphrodisiac.
Hudson isn't using his to turn me on though. I feelgoodfor the first time in the almost forty-eight hours since I stopped taking my bond suppressant. My brows furrow as I reach inside myself and realize the noise has stopped.
