Page 34

The walk to my car feels like it takes forever and no time at all. Belle leans heavily against my side, trusting me to support her weight as we navigate the empty parking lot. Her scent wraps around me like silk, making it hard to focus on anything beyond the primitive need to protect and comfort.

"Thank you," she whispers as I help her into the passenger seat, her voice barely audible over the sound of evening traffic. "For not... for being..."

"For being what?" I ask gently, though I think I know what she's trying to say.

"For being safe," she says, and the simple words hit me harder than any declaration of love ever could.

And despite her fears about walls and complicated feelings, I know with absolute certainty that I'm not walking away from this. From her.

Marcus and Felix are going to have very strong opinions about this development. But first, I need to get Belle home safe and help her through what's promising to be a challenging heat.

Everything else can wait until she's not burning up in my arms and looking at me like I might be either her salvation or her downfall.

Though if I'm being honest, it might be both.

14

THEO

The moment I slide behind the wheel of my truck with Belle in the passenger seat, I know this twenty-minute drive is going to test every ounce of self-control I've spent years developing. Her intoxicating blend of vanilla and honey scent fills the car, and it has been driving me crazy.

She's curled against the passenger door, trying to make herself as small as possible, but I can hear every shallow breath she takes, see the way her hands shake as she grips the door handle. The suppressants are losing their battle against her biology, and her omega nature is starting to bleed through in waves that make my alpha instincts roar with the need to comfort and protect.

"Address?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intended. Even that single word feels dangerous to speak, like any sound I make might shatter the fragile control we're both maintaining.

"Maple Street," she whispers, and the sound goes straight through me. "The apartments above Carson's Bakery."

The building has old brick, and narrow stairs. It’s the kind of place where young professionals live when they're just startingout. It explains why sometimes she smells faintly of bread and pastries.

I put the truck in drive and pull out of the library parking lot. The radio is playing some soft rock station, but I reach over and turn it off. Music feels wrong right now, too normal for what's happening between us. The silence that follows is thick with tension and unspoken need.

Belle shifts in her seat, and another wave of her scent hits me. This time it's stronger, richer, with an undertone that speaks directly to everything alpha in me. My hands tighten on the steering wheel, and I have to consciously relax my grip before I crack the leather.

"I'm sorry," she whispers suddenly, her voice so small I almost miss it over the sound of the engine.

"For what?" I keep my eyes on the road, but every other sense is focused entirely on her.

"For this. For needing help. For being so..." She makes a frustrated sound. “Defenseless.”

"Belle, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing."

She's quiet for a moment, but I can smell the spike in her distress. "You don't understand. I've spent a year making sure this wouldn't happen. A whole year of careful control and planning, and I ruined it all by forgetting one dose."

We stop at a red light, and I risk a glance at her. She's pressed against the passenger door like she's trying to put as much distance between us as possible, but her eyes keep darting toward me with a hunger she's fighting. The conflict between her rational mind and her omega biology is written across every line of her body.

She has been suppressing her omega nature for an entire year, and now her body is demanding compensation. No wonder this heat is hitting her so hard, but months of biological needs her body has been denied.

The light turns green, and I force myself to focus on driving. But the knowledge that she's been suffering in silence for a year, managing everything alone, makes every protective instinct I have scream. No omega should have to live like that. No one should have to carry that kind of isolation.

I remember why she said she's been suppressing it for a year, but if I'm going to help her, if she's going to make it through the night, then she needs to be able to trust me.

“Belle," I say carefully, "what happened to your friend was a tragedy. That alpha failed her completely. But not all alphas lose control. Not all of us are dangerous."

"How do I know that?" she whispers. "How do I know you won't..." She can't finish the sentence, but she doesn't need to.

"Because I'm telling you," I say firmly. "Because I've been trained to maintain control under extreme stress, in life-or-death situations."

She's quiet, but I can smell the way her scent shifts slightly, but she’s still distressed, but with a note of something that might be hope.