Page 173 of His Drama Queen

"Don't." Her voice cracks. "Don't you dare. You can't avoid me for three days, can't even look at me, and then suddenly care because my biology is making me convenient again?"

The accusation hits dead center. She's absolutely right. And the shame of it wars with the overwhelming need to touch her, to soothe her, to drag her upstairs and spend the next three days proving exactly how much I care.

"That's not—" I can't finish the sentence. Because it is fair. Everything she's saying is completely fair.

"I saw Robbie today." She's talking faster now, words tumbling out as the pre-heat builds. "Had dinner with him. He's back. He's my friend again. And he reminded me that I don't have to accept being treated like this."

Robbie. The name cuts through some of the rut haze. The male Omega I destroyed in Book 1, who somehow survived and returned. Who she was with today. Whose scent is probably all over her under the overwhelming jasmine.

The jealousy is instant and irrational.

"You were with him while this was starting?" Corvus's voice has gone deadly quiet. "Did he touch you?"

"What? No. He wouldn't—" She shakes her head, losing the thread of thought as another wave hits. Her legs buckle.

I'm there before she can fall, catching her against my chest. The contact is electric. She's burning up, fever already spiking, and the soft gasp she makes when our bodies connect goes straight to my cock.

"Let go," she whispers, but there's no force behind it. Her hands are fisting in my shirt instead of pushing away.

"No." The word is absolute. "Not again. Never again."

"You don't get to decide—" Another wave cuts her off. She whimpers, the sound so needy it makes all three of us growl in response.

"Upstairs." Oakley's voice is strained. "We're losing control and she needs somewhere safe."

He's right. The entry hall is no place for this. Too exposed. Too vulnerable. My room. We need to get her to my room where I can—where we can—

"I'm not going to your room," she manages. "I'm not doing this. I'll lock myself in my own room and—"

"And suffer alone?" I'm already lifting her, ignoring her weak protests. "While three Alphas in rut prowl the hallways outside your door? That's your plan?"

"Better than—" She cuts off with a gasp as I start up the stairs. The movement shifts her against me, and even through layers of clothing the heat of her is overwhelming.

Corvus moves ahead to open my door. Oakley follows close behind, already pulling off his jacket. The three of us moving in sync, pack instincts overriding everything else.

"This is a mistake," Vespera breathes as I carry her into my room. "You don't want this. You made that clear."

I set her down on the edge of my bed, forcing myself to release her even though every instinct screams to hold on. Drop to my knees in front of her so we're eye to eye.

This is it. This is where I either lose her forever or prove I'm not the coward I've been for three days.

"You're right." The words come out raw. "About everything. I avoided you. I shut you out. I made you feel like you didn't matter when you're the only thing that's ever mattered."

"Pretty words," she says bitterly. "You're good at those."

"No." I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. "Not pretty words. Truth. The ugly, terrifying truth I've been running from."

She stares at me, fever-bright eyes searching my face.

"I went to see my parents," I continue, the words coming faster now, desperate. "And they're suspicious. About us. Theysaw us together on campus, smelled your scent on me. They don't know about the bonds yet, but they're asking questions. And they compared me to Julian. Asked if I'm planning to throw everything away for an 'inappropriate' Omega."

"And you decided I was," she whispers.

"No." The word is fierce. "I decided they were right to be scared. Because I am throwing everything away. The Ashworth name. The inheritance. The legacy they've spent generations building. All of it. Because none of it matters without you."

"You don't mean that—"

"I do." I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in despite the way it makes my rut surge. "I spent three days hiding in that room, drinking my father's scotch and trying to convince myself I could find a way to have both. To keep their approval and keep you. And I finally realized—I don't want both. I don't want their approval if it means losing you."