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So many more questions, like why me, and why can’t Orion speak for himself?
But the wind shifts, blowing their scents straight into my lungs.
My blood turns to liquid fire.
I choke on the scents clawing inside me.
Leather. Smoke. Oranges. Cedar.
The little mouse I’ve spent my life beating down perks up from her long hibernation. Wide awake, she sends my body into a fever, ready to claim what’s ours.
Four alphas.
Mine.
My alphas.
But underneath, a fifth scent clings to them.
A sexy, cinnamony, crisp apple, frolicking-through-orchards-on-your-honeymoon kind of scent.
Too sweet to be alpha.
“You already have an omega?” I think I yelp, maybe shriek, but I’m not tracking anymore.
I’m lost.
Lost between need and despair.
Lost between instinct and the harsh reality that I can call them mine in my head all day, but they will never want me.
They already have their pack.
Their omega.
“Orion.” Atlas’s hardass exterior cracks. He can’t even say his mate’s name without slipping a sweet, gruff smile. But it flips back so fast when he remembers who he’s talking to. A warning growl rips up his throat. “You don’t look at him. You don’t speak to him. You don’t even let him see your shadow. Understood?”
“I understand. I’ll go.”
Oh god. Please let me go.
I can’t breathe without breathing them in. Without the desperate, clawing, needy thing inside me rising up, begging me to claim them.
I have to go before my perfume betrays me even more than I just betrayed myself.
When Atlas nods, I fly.
I push past Craig and sprint through the garden.
But you can’t run from your fated mates.
Only I can because mine aren’t mine.
Maybe I waited too long, suppressed myself too long. They found another omega. One who’s not broken. One who’s not a coward like me.
I run into the woods.
I run like my demons are chasing.
