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Outside, Colt stood at the southwest side of the cabin, canting his head this way and that at the construction. Late afternoon sun blared through the breaks in the trees, stabbing into Jake's still-adjusting eyes and making it impossible for him to read the other Alpha's expression. He grunted in greeting and then rolled out his neck and shoulders, squaring himself up for the ambush he could be walking into. Colt chosetodayof all fucking days to show up here? That couldn't be good.
"I see you got the walls up," Colt said, easy enough. "Looks good. What's the plan with the roof?"
Was the Second fucking with him? Was henothere to interrogate Jake about what happened at the lake last night and simply wanted to check on the progress of the cabin? Granted, Colt came up here a few times a week to do that but showing up the morning (or afternoon) after almost catching Jake and Zorah together struck him as beyond coincidence.
But maybe not.
"Dunno." Jake's throat scratched, and he cast around for where he'd last dropped his canteen. "You got ideas?"
Colt tossed him a container that sailed through the air and into his hands with a loud slosh. He needed this. When had he last had something to drink? Or to eat? Like the big bang or some other event of similar magnitude, everything that had happened before he kissed Zorah was erased from his mind. Nothing existed before he touched his flesh to hers. A world gone dark came to life in shining, blazing array.Fuck.
He was a mess.
"Probably more'n a one-man job."
Jake drank deeply, then dragged his bewildered attention back to where Colt kicked at some logs. "Huh?"
Colt met his gaze for the first time, a quizzical lean in his brow. "You okay, man?"
Jake tipped the canteen up to his lips again and used the few moments of silence to try to arrange his thoughts. It was okay. It was all... okay. At least as far as their potential discovery went last night. Otherwise, it was all shit, but at least Colt hadn't come today to drag him back to camp to confess before Hunter and the rest of the Pack.
Their secret was safe.
"Yeah, sure," Jake mumbled, not entirely sure what he was agreeing with.
Ignoring Colt's pointed eye contact, he squinted at the yawning void where a door needed to be fit into the frame; he needed to hurry up and get that done before the rains started. That, and about a thousand other things.
Whatever, it was fine. He'd take all these stupid, inconvenient feelings from Zorah and Ava and the Pack and whatever else, and he'd hammer them into the fucking walls of this place. He'd pound them up in every chink and joint and be rid of them. What was that story they made him read in high school? About the guy who bricked up his enemy in a wine cellar or some shit? Yeah, like that. Just like that.
Jake tossed the canteen back over and wiped his damp hands on his jeans. "You wanna get to work?"
With a final searching look, Colt turned to unpack the horse he'd led up the ridge. "Yeah, let's do it."
CHAPTER 20
Zorah
The day inched into night, every minute swelling and bloating to feel like a full hour. Her head hurt, her body throbbed, and even the tips of her hair seemed on edge.
Ginny let out a blood-curdling scream as Zorah held the squirming demon in place to change her diaper for bedtime. Jace and Pixie were tucked into bed but loudly complaining about it and showing no signs of settling down. Zorah tried to tune out their bickering and whining, her throbbing head pressurized like an overstuffed grain bag.
A bead of sweat broke free and trickled down the side of her nose. Wrestling a diaper on a baby shouldn't be this arduous. She cut a quick glance to the hearth, as if the stone-cold fireplace had somehow burst into flames and now pumped the room full of heat. But, no, it still sat cold and ashy, as it had the entire time she'd been in Morris Hill. Now well into September, the weather had cooled, yet not cool enough to need a fire indoors.
She fastened the last pin on Ginny's diaper and used a free hand to fluff her shirt from her body, trying in vain to get some airflow on her overheated chest. It hardly helped. Her spirits dredged the bottom of the well she'd lived in for the past week. Nothing would help, and she knew exactly why: her Heat was coming.
"Hey, what's all this fuss about?" Grace's head popped through the door, carrying a laundry basket piled high with sun-dried clothes. "It's time for bed."
Hefting Ginny from the changing table, Zorah gave the baby a few quick bounces to try to settle the lingering discontent from having endured the indignity of a change. "We're getting there."
"Oh my gosh, Zorah!" Grace dropped the basket and crossed the floor in two steps, invading her space and laying a maternal palm on Zorah's forehead. "You're burning up. Are you okay?"
Zorah raised her miserable gaze. "It's my Heat."
"Oh, you poor thing." Grace retrieved Ginny from Zorah's arms with a pitying look and an arm squeeze she clearly intended to be comforting.
It felt anything but.
Granted, all Omegas, eventually, went through Heats. It was one of the most notable differences between Omegas and Betas and a rite of passage, so to speak. But even in the universality of that Omega experience, how Heats played out varied wildly in Omega's lives. Thus far, Zorah had her first one around nineteen, and then two or three every year since, all taking place in her home. Her parents, ever vigilant about her purity, locked her in her room when the Heats came, discreetly delivering food and water and pretending they couldn't hear her pitiful and humiliating moaning.
