Page 23 of Bewitched

Four Months Later

L ayla stared through the glass panel of the oven at the rising cake inside. “I think it’s finished.”

“There’s still five minutes left,” Mina said.

“I can smell it burning,” she argued.

“It’s not burning,” Mina said. “Stop watching it.”

“My last batch burned,” Layla argued. She’d been trying to bake for weeks, but everything turned out burnt, or underdone, or tasting like flour. The oven was not her friend.

Mina stepped back with a well-put-upon sigh. “You should just hire a cook.”

Layla glared at her sister. She was always trying to get Layla to do less, coddling her. And she really didn’t want it. She just wanted everything to be some semblance of normal, and it was almost there. Almost.

Mina threw up her hands and retreated to the living room. It was a new apartment. This one had two bedrooms, all new furniture, and big bay windows overlooking the city. Damian had bullied Jaxon into moving, giving Layla more room to nest, and pace, and hide from him. She did quite a lot of the last one in the days after coming home from the hospital. She wasn’t sure she had learned much from her stay in the tiny room with Jaxon and half a dozen doctors checking on her constantly, but the new medications had helped. Anti-depressants, anti- anxieties, heat suppressants, sleeping pills, vitamin D; it was a rainbow of pretty little pills.

The extra bedroom held most of the stuff Eris and Clover had liberated from her dorm. Layla hadn’t returned. She couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing Helena on accident. Her life before her sudden heat still gave her extreme anxiety, but it was getting better, slowly.

“Jaxon can’t afford a cook,” Layla said. “Besides, I can do this. I can do everything except… bake, apparently.”

“Or do laundry,” Mina said.

“I only shrank four things… five… six. Five. Socks count as one article of clothing,” Layla said. “And Jax didn’t mind. He didn’t like that shirt anyway.”

Mina gave her a look. “It’s okay, sweetie. At least you’re pretty.”

She rolled her eyes and went back to staring at the cake. Layla had become used to having people around all the time, usually Mina and Roan, sometimes Kaiser and Eris. Raina would come with Kaiser when she could. Rolland had even talked himself into a visit.

Layla wasn’t allowed to be alone, not yet. Not again.

She was better, though. Again. She’d been doing so well in the new apartment and her new life. She thought she had been okay and had spent a month off the 24-hour watch, but her phone had sent a notification that she needed to renew her prescription for Omerex, and she had a breakdown. There had been a lot of blood by the time Jaxon found her. And there had been a lot of yelling at Warren and Mina and Damian. She didn’t remember much, but they had to replace another carpet.

They came in rounds whenever Jaxon had to work. Never alone. Always coddled. She didn’t like to think about it. Getting better was a process. Sometimes, it went backward. That’s what the doctor said.

“I’m taking it out,” Layla said, opening the oven and pulling out the cake before Mina could argue with her again.

Mina groaned and slumped onto the couch. “Fine. You ruin it all by yourself.”

She ignored her sister and stuck a knife into the cake. It came away clean. “Ha! I did it.”

“Good job,” she mumbled as she scrolled her phone.

“Eris would help me,” Layla mumbled, but Mina ignored her.

She liked that. She was finally being treated like a sister instead of a fragile omega, and she felt a little less brittle about it, too. Everything was comfortable and normal, as if nothing awful had happened at all. Except that it did, and she saw a therapist once a week because of it. But it was nice not to feel so raw. Jaxon had been wonderful in that rough, angry alpha way of his. Blunt and truthful. She could always count on him to be honest.

She’d come to like it. It was almost like having a normal beta boyfriend, except he chewed on her a little more, and she could judge his moods by the feeling in her chest. It was good.

Mina turned on the television, and a live news alert flashed over the screen.

“ This medication has already caused several unintentional and avoidable deaths, and there have been no studies on the effects of the children born from these influenced matings. Omerex must be taken off the market, and restitution must be paid to those affected.”

Perida Iverson stood before a small podium in the courthouse, flanked closely by Bryson and Rolland. He had mentioned he was in contact with his mother again; Layla hadn’t realized it was because of the lawsuit.

Layla stared at the screen for a long moment. There was her mother on the far side of the stage, barely in view of the screen. She didn’t even recognize Shera for a moment. She’d dyed her hair and cut it like she was a different person. Maybe she was.

Perida stepped back from the podium, and Rolland moved off the screen. Shera took a spot at the front, preparing to speak. Suddenly, the screen went blank.

Layla turned her eyes to Mina.

“Sorry,” her sister whispered.

She shook her head, trying to push it all away. It wasn’t her business. She wasn’t involved. When the lawsuit broke the news, Bryson and Roan were at the forefront, with Shera playing a dutiful mother to a lost son. It was a lie, but it served her purpose. Layla’s name had never been mentioned, nor had the Sorretos. The surprise came from the Iverson family; Perida joined on behalf of her slain brother and one of her own omegas. She had refused to claim public parentage of Roan, as she had already claimed two omegas as her own, one by betrothal and one by accident. Acknowledging a third would have put too much pressure on her family. Three omegas for one alpha… But if it was because of heat sickness — the thought made Layla ill.

“Have you talked to Mom?” Layla asked.

Mina grimaced. “Yeah, she’s… Mom.”

She nodded as she put the finishing touches on the cake. The icing was melting into a puddle and dripping down the sides. She should have let it cool. “I haven’t…” Her lips twitched up. “Jaxon hung up on her the last time she called.”

Mina grinned. “Good for him.”

Shera hadn’t tried again after that call. Her dad called, though, weekly. Aslin had moved out of his house and was staying in Bryson’s building. She didn’t know where that relationship was going, but she hoped her dad was happy. She hoped he could stop drifting.

“Shit,” Mina said as she looked at her phone. “I have to go. Damian did something, or he might be in jail. He’s not making sense.”

Mina took a step toward the door and stopped short. “Uh, are you…”

“I’m fine,” Layla said. She felt fine, at least. That was an improvement.

“You sure?”

She pushed the cake knife into the sink. “I’m sure. Go on. Rescue Damian from whatever stupid thing he did.”

Mina nodded and grinned at her. “Jax will be here in, like, five minutes.”

“I know.”

Mina reluctantly left, and Layla stared at the cake for a moment longer. She really did feel good, like herself. Maybe a little like a beta, and her life was completely normal, and she hadn’t had one continuous mental breakdown during the last four months.

That had been the strangest part, feeling like herself again instead of an entity outside of it. She wasn’t so much an omega or a beta; she was just herself, and that was nice.

Her instincts were still muddled, through her own limitation or the new mood-stabilizing medications. Jaxon didn’t complain about it too much. Not that he had a chance to. She didn’t do much.

She cleaned up a little, picking up the school pamphlets from the table. Jaxon had brought them home a few days ago and kept leaving them around the apartment, even after she threw them away. She didn’t know what he wanted her to do with them. She wasn’t ready for school again. She wasn’t ready for much more than taking a walk around the building.

She put away the towels and soap in the bathroom. Jaxon had taken the mirror off the cabinet over the sink. It hadn’t bothered her in months, but she decided it was a sweet gesture if a little misguided.

Layla tried the laundry room next, but there was a note taped to the top of the washer: DON’T YOU DARE .

She laughed. Well, that took one thing off the chore list. She’d get the hang of it eventually. She was sure it was the dryer that had caused the damage anyway.

She tugged at the arm of Jaxon’s sweatshirt that had only made it halfway into the basket. He’d worn it to work out in the small weight room on their floor. It still smelled heavily of sweat and cinnamon. She looked around before she pulled it out, slipping it over her head. She soaked in his scent and shuddered. She missed him.

Six months ago, she never thought it would be possible. Not an alpha. And never Jaxon Harlow. He made her happy. It was a small but bright thing in her heart. She was happy.

She curled up on the couch and turned the television channel to cartoons before she could spot her mom again. She was just going to have a lazy time until Jaxon came home.

She sat up from her sweatshirt burrito as she heard the doorknob turn. Jaxon paused in the entryway, slipping off his shoes and jacket as he looked around. He looked more tired than usual, pale under his scars and a new abrasion on his cheek. But, he was whole and back with her.

“Where’s Mina?” Jaxon asked.

“She got called in to deal with Damian. She had to go.”

He scowled, creasing the deep V between his eyes. “How long ago?”

She shrugged and looked at the clock. Time had little meaning when she didn’t do anything all day. “Twenty minutes, maybe? I’m fine.”

He sighed and nodded, making his way to the kitchen. “You baked?”

Layla grinned. She wanted him to come closer so she could touch him, so she could run her fingers through his hair. “Yeah, it’s chocolate. I’m sorry the frosting melted.”

He ran his finger over the goopy icing. “It was too hot when you put it on.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I was too excited. It actually tastes like cake.”

His lips twitched up. “How those muffins tasted like flour, I’ll never understand it.”

“I followed the recipe. It’s their fault.”

Jaxon chuckled, licking icing off his fingers. He had been careful with her, conscious of the space between them. She was still wrapping her head around being mated and the feelings swirling in her chest. The insistent compulsions to hide under the bed, to check the windows and doors for intruders. To lick Jaxon’s fingers, no matter what he was doing. To bare her neck and bite his skin.

He stopped behind the couch, and she tipped her head back to look at him. He stroked her hair back from her forehead. He smelled like cinnamon, honeysuckle, flowers, and pine, along with sharp sweat and musk.

Nora had been the one to teach her the most about being an omega. The beta had acted the part of an omega to an alpha for several years, though she was disinclined to talk about him. She instructed Layla on many omega patterns of behavior for which she’d only had the smallest spark of instinct.

She followed one then, taking Jaxon’s hand and sniffing at his fingers and wrist.

He grimaced.

“What? Am I doing it wrong?”

His expression was soft. “Yes, but close enough.”

She reached for him, and he bent down low so she could touch his face. She gripped the back of his neck, pulling him in to kiss her.

He did. Licking inside her mouth and groaning. He ran a hand down her chest, and she shuddered, her whole body reacting to his touch. She arched into him. She’d been waiting for him to come home. She needed him to touch her now.

He pulled away. “I need to shower.”

“Don’t,” she said, grabbing his arm before he could leave her. “I like the way you smell.”

“I stink.”

“I like it,” she said. She didn’t. He did stink highly of sweat and gun oil. But it was one of the few things that she could trace directly to her omega instincts and needs.

Jaxon grunted and leaned down to nuzzle at her neck, at her mating gland that was constantly sore and worried red beneath his teeth.

He circled the couch and sat beside her. “You’re in a mood.”

“I missed you,” she said. She pressed her foot against his thigh.

“I’m not sure I believe that. You need to lie better.” He curled an arm around her and pulled her closer, nearly into his lap. She settled comfortably against him. It had been a long four months of getting comfortable with him without the lingering effects of her heat. Every day, her omega-ness seemed to drift away, leaving her as a shadow of herself but letting her feel in control.

Layla unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. “I bake you a cake, and this is how you repay me,” she teased.

“Shameful behavior, that,” he agreed. “How am I going to make it up to you?”

She grinned and reached for his hand, twining their fingers together. He frowned, and his fingers twitched between hers. He was strangely terrible at holding hands. He’d do it, but he couldn’t be still. If it lasted too long, he’d get tense. She had thought he was just awkward with affection, but after so long, it began to hurt her feelings.

“Oh, what am I doing wrong now?” she snapped.

Jaxon grimaced. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

She pulled her hand away from his. “No, tell me. I want to know.”

He sighed. “It’s beta. We don’t hold hands. It’s dangerous. I can’t fight if you’re holding me.” He laid her wrist in his hand so he covered her scent gland with his palm. “Alphas touch like this to hold their partner’s scent close to them, and I can let go at any time to protect you.”

“Oh,” she said, staring down at the shackle Jaxon’s hand made around her wrist. It was just one more thing she didn’t understand. She should have been used to it. She touched his cheek right under the new scratch.

He jerked away from her fingers. “Don’t.”

“What happened?”

He squeezed her wrist and looked away. “Raina had some opinions she should have kept to herself.”

Layla’s eyes widened, and her heartbeat picked up. “Is she okay?”

“You’re worried about her?” he growled, his mood souring.

Anger roiled in her chest, his emotions overtaking her own. “You can defeat anyone. Of course, I’m more worried about her.”

“If you’d rather purr your pretty words at her—”

Layla pushed away from him, but he didn’t release her wrist. “Stop! I never said that. What’s the matter with you?”

“You’re going to leave. That’s what’s wrong with me.”

He finally released her, and Layla slid to the other end of the couch. “What? I’m not… why would you think that?”

“Months, Layla. It’s been months.” He stared at her, anger and despair waring on his face.

Fear trickled up her spine from deep in her stomach. “You said you’d give me time—”

“I have! I did! I gave you what I could. Everyone keeps asking ‘when.’ Raina, Rolland, Damian, fucking Aslin. ‘When?’ Like this is something I can control.”

Layla stared at the woven pattern of the couch. Bite. He meant her mating bite. She didn’t think about it most days. What they had together was good enough. It was safe.

Jaxon shuddered beside her, his hands clenching on nothing. “I can’t make you bite me. We’ve already proved that. I thought it was just because you were sick. You needed more time. I don’t know how much time I have in me.”

She let out a small breath. “I like what we have.”

“Because you have everything. You have my teeth, my touch. You have my affection and my protection. You don’t have to give anything back.” He looked around the room, anywhere but at her. “You can feel my emotions, and what do I get? I don’t know what you’re thinking. I don’t know what you want. I bring back those stupid school forms, and you don’t touch them. You don’t ask for anything I can’t— I try to— It’s all fucked, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“I didn’t ask you to fix it.”

“You didn’t ask me for anything. You never ask me for anything. I assume you don’t want anything. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want… me.”

“You said you wouldn’t give me back to them. That’s what I wanted.”

“I’m not giving you back to them. I’m giving you your freedom.”

Layla rubbed the scent gland on her wrist, soothing herself. She hadn’t known he was so upset about it. He had kept his fear to himself. She thought they were doing so well. She stared up at him. “You’d let me go. You would let Damian break our bond.”

He grunted, not looking at her, and her chest ached hard. “Yes.”

She stared at him. She couldn’t believe him. He’d been a selfish asshole all his life. What the hell was he doing now? “Even though what happened to Hera—“

“I know what fucking happened to Hera. I was there. I saw. She was my friend. She trusted me, and I couldn’t stop her,” Jaxon snarled. He stared at Layla for a long moment, then looked away again. “Don’t worry about me. Do what you need to do.”

His chest ached, and she could feel it. It was too painful. Too much. She wanted to run away from it. Let Damian take Jaxon away if it meant this fight would stop. But that meant tomorrow would be a day without her mate.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and tucked her nose into the warmth of his pilfered sweatshirt. “Do you still want me?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “God damn me, yes.”

Layla nodded and stared at him. “I’ll never be that perfect omega you want me to be.”

Jaxon laughed bitterly. “I’ll never be the docile alpha you need.”

They were both messed up. It strangely gave her some solace. It wasn’t just her that made their lives so difficult. It was just living that made it difficult.

Layla took a deep breath. Breathed out. She moved slowly as if she’d frighten him away and settled over his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. He watched her suspiciously as she put her hands on his shoulders and ran her fingers through the whisps of hair on the back of his neck.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Something stupid,” she whispered as she leaned against his chest.

Jaxon’s hands rested on her hips, his finger digging in hard enough to leave bruises. “Don’t tease. It’s cruel.”

“I’m not. I want you.” She touched the scent gland under his jaw, and he breathed in sharply, lifting his chin. “I’m sorry this has been so hard. I’m sorry that I still don’t understand, but I need you. I love you, Jaxon.”