Page 60 of Storm

Somewhere out there is Rook, maybe looking up at these same lights, wondering where I am.

A sudden, sharp cramp doubles me over, pulling me from my thoughts. Heat floods my body, and I feel the unmistakable rush of slick between my thighs.

"Shit," I hiss, gripping the bed as another wave hits me. The suppressants. I forgot to take the suppressants Reed gave me at dinner.

I straighten, breathing through the ache, and try to recall where I last saw the pill bottle. The dining table. I left it there after dinner, too distracted by the conversation to remember to take it with me.

Carefully, I open my bedroom door and peer into the darkened hallway. The penthouse is silent, all the lights off except for the ambient glow from the city through the windows. I slip out, padding quietly toward the dining area, hoping everyone's asleep.

The dining table has been cleared, the remains of our Chinese feast gone. My heart sinks until I spot the small bottle on the kitchen counter, deliberately placed where I would see it.

Relief floods through me as I move toward it, but another cramp hits just as I reach the counter, this one sharper than the last. A soft whimper escapes me before I can stop it, and I grab the edge of the sink to steady myself.

I need water to take the pill. I fumble for a glass from the cabinet, my hands shaking as another wave of heat washes over me. My scent is getting stronger by the second, dark chocolate notes filling the kitchen.

"Can't sleep?"

The low voice startles me so badly I nearly drop the glass. I spin around to find Reed leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He's still fully dressed, though his hair is slightly mussed, like he's been running his hands through it.

His ocean scent hits me like a physical force, making my knees weak and my omega instincts whine. I grip the counter behind me, trying to stay upright.

"Do you never sleep?" I manage to ask, aiming for casual despite the fire raging through my veins.

"Rarely," he answers, his voice deeper than usual.

I turn back to the sink, trying to fill the glass, but my hands are trembling too badly. Another cramp hits, stronger than the others, and the glass slips from my fingers, clattering into the sink with a sharp sound that echoes through the quiet kitchen.

"Fuck," I gasp, doubling over as slick rushes down my thighs.

In an instant, Reed is behind me, his body radiating heat. I feel rather than hear the growl that rumbles through his chest, the vibration of it traveling through the minimal space between us.

"You need to take that suppressant.Now." His voice is strained, fighting for control.

"I'm trying," I grit out through clenched teeth, attempting to reach for the pill bottle with shaking fingers.

Reed's hand closes over mine, helping me open the bottle. The brush of his skin against mine sends electricity shooting up my arm. I manage to shake a pill into my palm, but before I can lift it to my lips, another wave of heat crashes over me.

My knees buckle, and Reed's arm wraps around my waist, keeping me upright. The moment his body makes contact with mine, something shifts. His control fractures.

I feel him press against me from behind, the hard length of him unmistakable against the curve of my ass. A growl tears from his throat, primitive and hungry, as he buries his face in my hair.

"Storm," he warns, his voice rough with restraint, "take the pill."

But I can't move, can't think beyond the need pulsing through me. My omega biology is overriding everything else, responding to the alpha pressed against me.

"Reed," I whisper, not even sure what I'm asking for.

His grip on my waist tightens, and for one breathless moment, I think he's going to give in to the instincts clearly raging through him. But then, with what seems like superhuman effort, he steps back, putting space between us.

"Take the pill," he repeats, his voice hoarse. "Now."

The cold air that replaces his body heat shocks me back to reality. I fumble to get the pill in my mouth, then grab the glass with both hands, filling it enough to swallow.

The suppressant will take time to work, but just taking action helps clear my head slightly. I turn to face Reed, who's now standing across the kitchen, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the island.

"I'm sorry," I say, though I'm not entirely sure what I'm apologizing for. My scent? The way my body responded to his? The fact that for a moment, I wanted something I shouldn't?

“Don't,” he says sharply. “Don't apologize for your biology.”