Page 10

I wake before dawn, my body still humming with satisfaction. I reach for Leo instinctively, but my fingers find only cooling sheets and the lingering indent of his body pressed into the mattress beside me.

The bathroom door stands closed, water running behind it, and I allow myself to relax back into the pillows with a smile. He’s in the shower.

I stretch, feeling the pleasant ache of muscles well-used, and smile at the ceiling. My skin bears the marks of the last four days. There are scratches along my shoulders, a bruise at my collarbone where Leo’s teeth caught my skin.

This changes everything. The thought reverberates through me as I hear the shower cut off, anticipation coiling in my chest.

Four days of heat. Four days of Leo Torres in my arms, in my bed, under me, over me. It was the most intense connection I’ve ever experienced with another human being. It wasn’t just physical, although that was incredible. It was something deeper. Something primal.

The shower stops, and I sit up, eager. The bathroom door opens. The bathroom door opens and Leo emerges fully dressed, his hair still wet. There are water droplets on his neck and I want to lick up each of them with my tongue.

“Morning,”

I say, my voice still rough from sleep.

He glances at me then, just a flicker of those blue eyes before he’s moving again, gathering the few belongings he’d scattered around the room during his heat. He doesn’t reply.

Something cold settles at the base of my spine. Something’s wrong.

“You okay?”

I ask, watching as he moves around the room, seemingly searching for something. A moment later, he finds it—a Bureau-issued gray hoodie. He bends grabbing it and I notice the slight wince as he moves. His body is still recovering from the intensity of the last few days. The alpha in me roars at the sight, wanting nothing more than to bundle him back to bed and tend to every ache, but I force myself to remain still.

He’s not looking at me.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. His heat was perfect. It opened his eyes to the inevitability of our bond. Instead, he’s moving like a stranger, as if nothing has changed.

I rise from the bed and move to intercept him. When my fingers brush his arm, he freezes.

“Hey,”

I say, softer now.

“Look at me.”

He does, finally, and what I see in his eyes stops my breath. Nothing. No warmth. No recognition of what we shared. Just cool detachment. I lean in to claim his mouth with mine. He turns his head at the last moment, my lips grazing his cheek instead. He smells as wonderful as ever and his skin is warm. I smile at him, trying to find that connection again.

“Don’t,”

he says quietly, stepping back.

“We both know what that was.”

There’s a hardness to his tone that makes the floor feel like it has shifted beneath my feet. “Do we?”

“It was my heat. Nothing more. I told you that.”

He shrugs into the hoodie with what feels like finality.

“I’m not interested in pretending otherwise.”

His words hit like ice, sharp and sudden. I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly aware of my nakedness.

“That wasn’t just a heat.”

Leo rolls his eyes.

“Post-heat bonding talk. So predictable.”

He moves toward the door.

“I’m gonna make myself coffee.”

“Leo, wait—”

But he’s already gone, leaving me alone, naked and confused.

I find him in the kitchen, preparing his coffee. He doesn’t look at me or even acknowledge my presence.

“We should talk about what happened,”

I try again, keeping my voice measured despite the anxiety climbing my throat.

Leo takes a deliberate sip from his mug.

“Nothing to talk about.”

“You can’t seriously believe that.”

I lean forward, trying to catch his eye.

“What we shared—”

“Was a heat. That’s all.”

His gaze remains fixed on some middle distance.

“You got what you wanted. I got through it. End of story.”

A flare of frustration burns through me.

“That’s not what happened and you know it.”

“What I know,”

Leo says, finally meeting my eyes with cold precision.

“is that I only have five more days to wait out. I’ll be gone soon. Better get used to it.”

His words leave me speechless. Five days. Five more days until our mandatory cohabitation period ends. And he can simply... walk away.

Panic surges through me, fierce and unexpected. Leo can’t leave. It isn’t right. The pull I feel toward him is cellular, atomic. It can’t all be one-sided.

“Leo—” I begin.

“No.”

He cuts me off. Then he’s gone again, moving outside to the porch, leaving his coffee half-finished on the counter.

I stand frozen in the kitchen, staring after him through the doorway, completely rattled. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why is Leo fighting this? I could feel how he reacted to me during the heat. He wanted me. I know he did. I felt it.

What if bonding isn’t always reciprocal? What if it can be one-sided, the chemistry hitting one person differently than the other? Maybe that’s what’s happening here. It would explain everything—his reluctance, his coldness, the way he can stand there and pretend that what we shared meant nothing. Oh my god, it would explain the reluctance of other omegas in the system, the ones who fight the matches despite the science. That can’t be right. We both feel it. We have to. The thought that this might be one-sided makes nausea rise in my stomach, bitter and choking.

I swallow then follow Leo out onto the porch. He gives me a disdainful look and goes back inside, retreating to his corner, the one he claimed when we first arrived at the cottage. He sits again, staring at the wall. We’re back where we started. Worse, maybe.

No. We still have five days. No prime match has ever failed and we are more than prime. We are a 98% match. There is no possibility that this can fail. I take the chair closest to him, staring at his face, desperately thinking.

Okay, he’s right about the chemistry. We are compatible in that. That argument is getting me nowhere. I need to show him why it is important. He needs to understand why we are a good match.

I’ve argued my position so many times before: on Point of Contention, on radio shows, in lectures to packed auditoriums, on panels at conferences where people hung on every word. My words flow out easily: statistics and studies and success stories tumbling over each other. Leo continues to ignore me, completely indifferent.

His indifference doesn’t matter. He is here, trapped in this space with me. He has to listen. I talk until my mouth runs dry, until my throat aches with the effort. I get a glass of water and keep talking, the words becoming more desperate with each passing minute.

He keeps ignoring me.

The telephone rings around noon, startling in its abruptness. I haven’t used an old rotary phone in years. I lift the receiver.

“Dr. Thorndike,”

I answer automatically.

A female voice responds, authoritative and crisp.

“This is Meg Deveraux. I need to speak with Leo Torres.”

I frown, my grip tightening on the receiver.

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Torres isn’t permitted outside communication during the mandatory cohabitation period.”

“I have a court order signed by Judge Harlowe permitting this call,”

she says, voice sharp.

“How do you think I got this number?”

I blink, caught off guard.

“A court order?”

“Yes. And if you don’t put Leo on the phone immediately, you’ll be in contempt. I have the judge on standby.”

“One moment.”

I cover the mouthpiece with my palm.

“Leo? It’s for you.”

Leo looks up, surprise flickering across his features before his expression settles back into neutrality. He crosses the room and takes the phone, his fingers carefully avoiding contact with mine.

“Hello?”

A pause. “Meg. Hi.”

His voice softens minutely, carrying the first genuine emotion I’ve heard from him in hours.

I move away supposedly to give him privacy, but not far enough that I can’t hear. I pretend to examine the bookshelf, hyper-aware of every word exchanged.

“I’m fine,”

Leo is saying.

“Just looking forward to being able to leave.”

Something in my chest tightens, a pain so sharp it’s almost physical.

“You did? That’s—”

Leo’s voice catches.

“That’s incredible.”

I turn slightly, watching his profile as he grips the phone tightly, his knuckles white with the force of it.

“It’s definitely invalid? I can leave?”

I go very still, ice flooding my veins.

“Good, because it’s not working,”

Leo continues, glancing briefly in my direction before looking away.

His words punch into me. My distress must affect my scent because Leo’s nostrils flare slightly, his eyes darting to me again before he deliberately turns his back.

“Really?”

Leo’s voice rises with barely contained excitement.

“Yeah, I’ll be ready. There’s nothing to pack. Thanks, Meg. I owe you.”

Leo’s voice grows quieter.

“I’ll see you soon.”

When he hangs up, the silence in the cottage is deafening.

“You’re leaving,”

I say, the words feeling foreign in my mouth.

Leo doesn’t deny it. “Yes.”

“On what grounds?” I demand.

“The judge ruled that my registration was invalid,”

Leo says, his expression carefully impassive.

“The blood drive consent form wasn’t valid. The cohabitation order has been overruled. I’m legally free to go.”

“Free to go,”

I repeat. The words taste bitter.

“Just like that? After everything that happened between us?”

“Nothing happened between us except a shared heat,”

Leo says flatly.

The dismissal of what we shared cuts deeper than I expected.

“You’re wrong,”

I say, conviction hardening my voice.

He doesn’t even bother to respond. Instead, he walks away, returning to his corner, taking the same position against the wall.

I’m left standing in the middle of the room, the bitter taste of failure in my mouth. An hour passes. Leo hasn’t moved from his spot against the wall, seemingly content to wait there until his friend arrives.

This is it. It’s my last chance to explain. To make him understand. I talk. I’m spilling out my old spiel so fast, it feels like babbling even to me.

Finally, I shut my mouth and just sit and watch him. This is the end. I don’t believe he is physically capable of walking away. I know what a prime match is. He has to want this. Maybe I need to stop talking at him and let the silence do its work, let him realize what he’s going to lose the moment he walks out that door.

Another hour passes in complete silence.

“Leo,”

I say finally.

“Please don’t go. I’m begging you.”

He looks up, surprise flickering across his features before his expression hardens again, , walls slamming back into place.

And finally, finally, he starts talking to me again.

“Why would I stay?”

“Because what we have is real,”

I say, moving closer.

“You felt it too. I know you did. I don’t believe you didn’t feel it.”

Anger flickers in Leo’s eyes.

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, you arrogant asshole. The court has ruled. I’m leaving.”

“Leo, please.”

My voice breaks on the words, pride forgotten.

“Stay. Give me a chance. Please.”

For a moment—just a moment—something softens in his expression. Then the sound of tires on gravel reaches us through the open window, and whatever might have been is gone.

“That’s Meg,”

Leo says, rising to his feet and pushing past me toward the door.

Panic surges through me, a primal alpha reaction to losing my omega.

“You can’t just go,”

I say, desperation making my voice rougher than intended.

Leo pauses at the door, glancing back at me.

“Watch me.”

I follow him onto the porch just as a compact car pulls up in front of the cottage. A woman with dark braids emerges, her stance immediately confrontational as she spots me behind Leo.

“You must be Thorndick,”

she says, eyes narrowing.

“I’ve got the court order right here.”

She waves an official-looking document.

“Leo’s free to go.”

“Let me see it,”

I begin, grasping at straws now. I have no idea what they are, but there must be.

“Proper procedures for—”

“Save it,”

Meg cuts me off.

“The judge was clear. The blood drive registration was invalid, which means the matching and cohabitation orders were illegal. Leo is leaving, and if you try to stop him, you’ll be violating a court order.”

I look at Leo, standing there in nothing but the Bureau-issued gray t-shirt and sweatpants, the clothes hanging loose on his frame. He has nothing. Brought nothing. Is leaving with nothing but the clothes on his back.

“Leo,”

I try one more time, my voice low, meant for him alone.

“Please. What we have—”

“We don’t have anything,”

Leo says firmly.

Meg opens the passenger door of her car.

“Let’s go.”

Leo nods, taking a step toward the car. Then he pauses, turning back to me one last time. To my shock, he leans in and presses his lips to mine—hard, fierce, almost punishing in its intensity.

I respond instantly, helpless not to, my hand coming up to cradle his face. His lips are soft on mine, desperate and hot. His tongue slips into my mouth. He tastes so good, my eyes want to roll back in my head with the pure pleasure of it. We have spent the last four days fucking each other’s brains out, exploring every inch of each other’s bodies, but my dick is not even close to tired. It is hard in an instant. For one blazing moment, everything is right again—the world clicks into place, and I can breathe.

Then he pulls away, his breath coming in harsh pants.

“See? It’s still just chemistry. I don’t want you,”

he says, his eyes meeting mine. He holds my gaze.

“I don’t want you. Goodbye, Thorndike, and fuck you.”

And then he’s gone, sliding into Meg’s car without looking back. Through the windshield, I see Meg shoot me a triumphant glare as she pulls away, taking Leo with her.

I stand on the porch long after they’ve disappeared, staring at the empty road. He’s actually gone.