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I push open the door. It isn’t a bathroom I step inside. It’s a heaven. Of sorts. A sanctuary. A huge white marble sunken bath takes pride of place in the center of the room. On the far side, a wall of mirrors reveals my reflection.
I wince at the panda-like woman staring back at me with haunted light green eyes, faint red scratches on her arms and face, and an ugly bruise on her jaw. How could Cian, Rune, and Kylian look at me without laughing? I look like a clown with melted makeup.
Turning away from the shocking sight, I bypass the sunken bath and head for the biggest draw in the room right now. A large, glass shower with a rainforest shower head.
Along my way, I shrug out of Kylian’s coat, then yank off my dress and panties, dumping them on the floor in a way I never would in Lawrence’s mansion. My dress had such thin straps, I couldn’t wear a bra with it, so I didn’t. I could have worn a strapless one.
It would have shown through the thin silk of my dress but that isn’t why I chose not to.
It was a rebellion against Lawrence. Not a big one. In fact, one so tiny Lawrence probably didn’t even notice. But sometimes all you have is small, and it’s better than nothing.
My panties, a silky scrap of lace, are the last item to hit the marble floor on my way to the shower. Before I step in, I eye the products sitting on a sunken gray marble shelf beside it, deciding what I need for my shower.
I try not to look at my body. But I still spot a small reddish-black bruise on my right side, and I frown because I can’t remember what I did to deserve it.
Wistful omega’s words at the ball about Lawrence being gentle with me make me smile bitterly.
Before I can linger too long on all the ways Lawrence has hurt me, I pick out an unscented bottle of expensive-looking facial exfoliator. I select a pumice stone next and a pair of cream exfoliating gloves.
The water heats up in seconds, filling the large marble bathroom with wisps of hot steam.
After carrying all my cleaning products into the shower with me, I go back for shampoo and conditioner. Vanilla because I love the smell and for once, I get to decide exactly how I want to smell. Seizing both bottles, I step into the shower and slip the exfoliator gloves on.
And I begin stage one of ridding my body of Lawrence Wentworth’s stink.
One hour later, my skin is pink, rubbed nearly raw, and the last of Lawrence’s pheromones is disappearing down the drain. It could have happened sooner than that, but I took the extra time because I wanted to be sure. I wanted it gone. All of it.
Now I just smell like me.
Not all the vanilla wafting in the air comes from the shampoo and conditioner I used in my hair. It’s my omega pheromones. The closer I get to my heat, the more intense it will be. For now, it’s a mix of vanilla and coconut, a scent Lawrence spent most of the last year determined to drown with his alpha pheromones.
When you build your identity around the things you have, the thought of losing those things must be terrifying. And while it’s not a crime for an alpha to cover his omega with his pheromones the way Lawrence did to me, it’s rare that one would.
Maybe he was just insecure.
Yes. I think I can believe that.
With a towel wrapped around my squeaky-clean body, and another around my hair, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror to apply the cooling antiseptic ointment to the scratches on my face and arms. There’s nothing I can do about the bruise on my jaw, but wait for it to heal on its own.
At least it no longer hurts, so I suppose there’s something to be grateful for.
Nearly falling asleep as I brush my teeth, my jaw cracks in a wide yawn as I leave the bathroom, skirting the clothes I dumped on the floor. They can stay there. I don’t want to be the perfect omega anymore. I just want to be the messy Everleigh Jackson I was before Lawrence.
In the bedroom, I glance at the door, releasing a quiet sigh of relief that no one forced themselves inside while I was in the shower. And they could have. Easily. I let myself get far too distracted by my need to smell like me again.
The bundle of clothes on the bed smells faintly of all three alphas. It’s a combination that calls to me like Lawrence’s scent never did.
I take a good long time, far longer than I need to pick through the items before settling on a soft, white T-shirt that hits me almost to my knees. The blue-and-white striped boxers are as soft as Rune promised they would be, and I silence a moan of pleasure as I step into them.
I bypass the perfectly made-up bed on my way to the closet.
There’s no plush gray carpet waiting for me, just empty rails, an empty shelf at the top, and hardwood flooring. That doesn’t stop me from pulling the closet door closed behind me. It leaves me in a darkness, only broken by the thinnest strip of light creeping in under the door. I settle on the floor, trying to get comfortable.
After an hour of tossing and turning with the hardwood floor digging into my hip, I realize it isn’t happening. Not now, and probably not ever.
I can’t sleep.
I hate myself for what I do next, I truly do. Mostly, I hate the omega in me that craves what she does, a need I have no control over.
