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Satisfied with herself,Tuna lifts her tail high and gracefully steps out of the pantry. I quickly pour their food into their respective bowls and set them on the floor. The urge to run upstairs and grab the shirt threatens to overwhelm me, but I resist.
Stomping over to the closet, I grab my shoes and hastily escape my apartment, hoping that getting some fresh air willhelp clear my head and dispel this strange sensation that has taken hold of me.
It’s like that shirt has become an addiction I can’t shake, and no matter how hard I try, my brain just won’t let it go. It’s as if Devlin’s scent has etched itself into my very thoughts, haunting me at every turn.
Chamomile and cream.
“This is what insanity feels like,” I mutter to myself, sliding down to the floor to pull on my chucks. The cold tiles beneath me send a shiver through my body. “And I don’t even have a bra on.” I glance around the empty foyer, relieved there isn’t a single soul here to witness me talking to myself like a crazy omega.
With my shoes on and no keys in my pocket, I decide to make my escape outside. It’s the safest option. If I return to that apartment, I know I’ll end up crawling up those stairs to retrieve that shirt. Right now, I need to feel some control, because it’s clear I’m not in control of myself.
As I open the door to the outside, the crisp morning air fills my lungs, waking me up further. I grip the wooden railing for support, clutching onto it as if it can anchor me to reality. The door quietly closes behind me, and I thank my lucky stars that the building’s owner has implemented a code system. Thanks to Sawyer’s pack, I won’t have to go back inside for the keys.
Taking deep breaths, I descend the steps. Yesterday, my brother mentioned that it smelled like snow was in the air. Today, the sky is a brilliant white, as if to prove his words true. I’m unsure how cold it is, and my hoodie is far from sufficient to keep me warm, so I decide to walk.
The bakery is located just east of Central City, close to what some people call the slums, which are about a mile down the street. I don’t live in the best part of the city, but it’s also not the worst. The familiar surroundings bring me comfort, and ithelps ease the growing tension inside me, at least enough for my shoulders to relax.
A few blocks away, there’s a small park, and I head in that direction. Not many people are out and about this early on a Saturday morning. I shove my hands into my hoodie pockets and take a right, putting the apartment building out of my line of sight, but inside, my turmoil only intensifies.
My shoulders itch, and my legs twitch as though I need to go back and slip on that stupid shirt, inhaling Devlin’s scent once more. A whimper escapes my lips, and I feel like a traitor to my own mind. It’s as though I’m in a losing battle, and tears spring to my eyes, which I quickly wipe away with the edge of my sleeve.
I need a distraction.
Spinning around, I collide with a large figure. For the second time in twelve hours, I’ve run into someone. I’m two for two. My heart races as I try to gather my thoughts, looking up to meet the eyes of the person I accidentally bumped into.
“Whoa.” A man reaches out and steadies me, his strong grip preventing me from stumbling.
His scent hits me before anything else—musk, dark amber, and all alpha. It soothes the persistent twitch I’ve been fighting all morning, which, strangely, only makes me cry harder. The scent calms my jittery omega instincts, as if it were some kind of balm for my frayed nerves.
“Hey, hey.” He gently tilts my chin up, and scorching blue eyes sear into mine. “Hey there, sugarplum.”
“Oh, by the Fates, it’s you,” I say with a mixture of relief and surprise. Maximillian Harrington, of all people. In my emotional state, his presence is both a comfort and a shock.
Really, who is this mushy bitch, and how do I kill her?
“Ah, sugarplum, you’re killing my ego.” The grumpy alpha wipes away my tears with surprising tenderness. “Walk with me?”
Taken aback by his sudden appearance, I look up at him. He’s still wearing a shirt with too many holes, cargo pants, and untied shoes. He pulled his dirty blond hair back into a man bun, and damn it, I want to rip it free and run my fingers through it. Despite his disheveled appearance, there’s an undeniable charm about him that makes me want to get closer.
I sniffle, grateful that my nose is filling with mucus because if I can smell him even more, I might end up with my nose in his armpit. I’m experiencing a strange mixture of emotions, but his presence is oddly soothing.
“Why do all of you alphas smell so good all of a sudden?” I blink, my gaze momentarily fixated on his pouty, kissable lips.
“I smell good, huh?” He raises a single eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
I notice his bond mark, and more tears spring up. Seeing it brings a flood of emotions—longing, envy, and a strange sense of loss.
“What just happened?” He pinches my chin, his brows furrowing in concern.
“Bite,” I rasp, knowing he’ll understand what I mean. It’s a simple word, but it carries a world of meaning. I take a step back out of his arms, and I wipe my nose across my sleeve. I sure hope he doesn’t judge me. “Your omega will smell me.”
“Come on, sugarplum.” He manhandles me gently, turning me around toward the park. He walks me toward the swings with his palm on my lower back. “And for the record, that’s my pack bond.”
I feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, even though my emotions are still in turmoil. Max may be gruff and grumpy to everyone else, but he’s my anchor in this sea of confusion right now.
I should feel ashamed, but my hormones are still in the driver’s seat, and there’s no turning back now. “No omega?” Iinquire, my voice tinged with curiosity. The haze of desire clouds my judgment, making me bold.
“No omega,” he whispers gently, his voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.
