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"Ais, you know we can't just march into Dreamland and play heroes."
"But one day," she says. "I want...I want the Angels to help me. Peace with the Eclipse isn't an option when they treat people the way I was treated."
"So you want war?"
"If that's what it takes, yeah," she shrugs. "Are you really okay with all this? The way they traffic omegas, sell our bodies for their own fortune. Don't get me wrong, some of us got into this business willingly...but we should be getting the payout, not Caius fucking Rossi."
I tense, my hands clasped at her lower back. She frowns, noticing how this is affecting me.
"You okay?" she asks.
I shake my head. "I guess you don't know much about me, huh?"
"What does that mean?"
"The last big street war between the Eclipse and the Angels," I tell her. "It killed my father. Vance's, too. It's why so many of us are so intent on keeping things from boiling over."
Her eyes widen. "I'm sorry...I didn't know."
"That doesn't mean we like what the Eclipse is doing," I say. "The Angels have always stayed out of human trafficking. If they're planning something, Vance will want to know."
Aisling's grip tightens on my arms. "Do you think he'll help us?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," I reply honestly. "Vance has always been more focused on keeping the peace, but if he finds out Caius Rossi is up to something, he might be willing to intervene."
She nods. "Then we need to find a way to make him see. We can't let this continue."
I press a kiss to her forehead and hold her closer. "We won't, Aisling. We'll find a way."
As we stand in the shower, water cascading over our bodies, I can't help but feel a deep mix of emotions. Aisling may have started off using me for her own survival, but somewhere along the way, feelings have grown between us. I care about her deeply.
And I'm starting to believe that she may feel the same way.
Chapter eighteen
Aisling
I've only ever hadone heat before the brand...and I can barely remember it.
Synth marks do strange things to a girl, and we've always been put on suppressants and birth control at the club. They crank artificial pheromones into the air at Dreamland, and we use those to make more money, that we then pay up the chain to Eddy, then to the Rossi family. The ink of the brand combined with the pheromones and my still-functional birth control implant make our heats dull and less noticeable, so I know what it feels like to a certain extent, but not exactly.
This is a whole new sensation.
I wake up to a hot, twisting feeling between my hips, and at first I wonder if I'm sick. I curl into the fetal position and moan, holding my knees to my chest, my eyes squeezed shut. Ifeel Gunnar shift in bed next to me, his fingers gliding over my shoulder.
"Ais, breathe," he murmurs.
I open my eyes, finding his gaze hooded, his lips parted. His breathing is steady, but...weird.
Deep, like he's trying to maintain control.
"Something is wrong," I whisper.
He gets closer, running his hand up and down my arm. It feels incredible, leaving sparks everywhere he touches. "Nothing's wrong, babe," he says, his voice a low rumble. "In fact...everything's perfect. You're going into heat."
"Oh," I sigh. My whole body is on fire at his touch and proximity, and I reach out to grasp his shoulder. "It...why does it hurt?"
He frowns. "It shouldn't."
