Page 5

Juliet

I don’t remember the walk home. I know I dressed quickly and bolted. The brand-new patch is barely masking my scent, not that it matters now.

I do have some flashes of memory, cold air on my bare legs, the sting of gravel under my feet, the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears like a war drum. I lock the apartment door behind me, press my back to it, and slide down until I’m sitting on the carpeted floor.

Everything smells like him. It’s not even real, just a phantom scent. But I can still feel Abel on my skin. In my lungs. On my tongue. I wanted to beg him to touch me the way I have been dreaming about for months but I held back.

“You’re mine.” His words play on repeat in my head.

My wolf whimpers in the back of my mind, pushing me to go to him. To submit to my mate. I slam my fist against the floor.

“No,” I whisper. “No, I’m not his mate.”

My heat hasn’t started yet. Not fully. But it’s coming, slow and cruel, like a storm on the edge of the horizon. My body’s buzzing. My skin is too tight. My mouth is dry, and every part of me that knows I’m an omega is already calling for the one thing I swore I’d never need.

Him. Abel. My mate. My Alpha.

The man who’s more than twice my age. The man who runs the club like a goddamn wolf pack. The man who used to babysit me when I was too young to shift, before I even identified as an omega.

I press my hands to my face. I want to peel my own skin off.

I didn’t ask for this. I told myself the patches would work.

That if I was careful, if I stayed masked, I could carve out a piece of the world that wasn’t shaped by instinct and fate and biology.

Or my father. But the second that patch came off, the universe made up its mind. And it picked him.

I get to my feet and stumble to the bathroom. I strip out of my street clothes, turn on the cold water, and step into the shower, hoping it’ll numb the rising pressure in my veins.

Surprise ... it doesn’t.

Every droplet feels like a kiss. Every breath makes my thighs clench. My body is preparing. Oiling the gears for a descent into something I’ve only read about in whispered threads on omega message boards.

Unclaimed heat.

Unclaimed omegas in heat either find relief .

.. or lose themselves. Some aren’t ever the same again.

I dig through the medicine drawer and pull out an emergency suppressant shot.

It’s old, barely legal, and probably expired, but I jab it into my thigh anyway and pray it’ll buy me a day.

Maybe two. But I know it won’t fix this.

The bond is already forming, threading itself through my bones, my breath, my blood.

I can feel it—a hook in my chest, sharp and sweet and terrifying.

I know I am not feeling it as profoundly as he does, but within a few days the effects of the patch will wear off and I won’t be able to deny this anymore.

Sooner probably, my heat accelerating everything.

I crawl into bed and bury myself under the covers, trying to disappear. Trying to forget how my life just flipped upside down.

That’s when the memory hits.

I was eighteen the first time I shifted. When my designation presented itself. The look on my dad’s face when my scent changed damn near broke my heart. My scent didn’t come in soft like most girls. It hit him like a freight train—heavy, unmistakable.

Omega.

He didn’t smile. He locked the door to our home, staring at me.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said, voice low and firm. “Not your friends. Not your teachers. Not even your doctor. You hear me?”

I nodded, too scared to speak.

“You keep it hidden. You suppress it. And you never let an Alpha near you.”

“Why?” I whispered.

His voice cracked.

“Because they’ll take you. Whether you want them to or not.”

I blink back tears. I wish I could call him. I wish I could scream and tell him he was right. That I made a mistake walking into that club. That I should’ve stayed home. Stayed hidden. Stayed safe.

But it’s too late. The bond is forming. The suppressant hits like a cold wave, dulling the edge, slowing the fire, but it doesn’t stop it. Not completely.

I curl tighter under the covers. I try to sleep. I try to think of anything else. But the air in the room starts to thicken, like smoke I can’t see. Every sound stretches too long. My skin buzzes with static.

And then I feel him. Not really. But it feels real.

The mattress shifts behind me. Heat radiates against my back. A large hand brushes my hip, rough and warm, like it’s memorizing the shape of me through the sheet.

“Juliet,” he breathes, voice low and raw.

I squeeze my eyes shut. No. But the hallucination doesn’t care.

Abel’s scent fills the room—leather, smoke, something darker underneath. My pulse skitters. My thighs press together. The air vibrates with his presence, his growl curling inside my ear like a secret.

“I told you,” he whispers. “You’re mine.”

The imagined version of him is softer than the real thing. Gentler, more reverent. His fingers slip under the edge of my sleep shirt, dragging fire across my skin. His mouth finds the back of my neck, and my body arches, desperate, shameful.

“Say it,” he says. “Say you feel it.”

I almost do. I almost give in. But then the illusion shifts. His grip tightens. Too tight. His mouth at my throat is no longer a kiss. It’s a claim.

And suddenly, I’m not dreaming anymore, I’m drowning. I throw off the blankets, gasping for air, drenched in sweat. My heart’s pounding. My clothes are soaked. My sheets smell like him, and he’s not even here.

He’s not here. He’s not here.

I stumble to the bathroom and vomit into the toilet. The cold tile bites my knees. This is only the beginning. If the suppressant fails before I get another dose, I won’t just hallucinate. I’ll beg. I’ll call for him. And he’ll come. Because he won’t be able to stay away.

I barely manage to drag myself out of the bathroom before my body betrays me again. My heart thuds in my chest like it’s been pumped full of raw electricity. Sweat coats my skin, and my legs feel like jelly.

I try to breathe, try to focus, but my mind is running too fast, spinning into overdrive.

I force myself to sit on the edge of the bed and take deep breaths.

My fingers press into my temples, trying to push away the suffocating heat, but it’s already there, creeping in like a shadow over my senses. It won’t stop.

I feel his hand again, his breath at my neck.

It’s like I’m drowning, but I can't escape. Not even from myself.

I close my eyes, and another memory assaults me.

The house is quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

My dad’s there, on the couch, flipping through a stack of old papers, but he’s not reading.

His eyes are fixed on the window. The blinds are drawn now, but I know he’s been watching the street for hours.

I’m supposed to be asleep, but the urge to ask him about the shift, about the changes happening to me, is unbearable. Finally, I can’t stop myself.

“Dad,” I whisper. He doesn’t look up. Just grunts in acknowledgment. “Dad, what happens when I shift? When I really shift? When I’m—”

He cuts me off before I can finish. “Don’t talk about it. Not yet.” The words are sharp. Defensive.

“Why not?”

His jaw tightens. There’s something cold in his eyes when he finally looks at me. Something I’ve never seen before, like the world is about to crack open, and he’s bracing for it.

“You’re not ready,” he says, his voice low. “You’re never going to be ready for what happens after.”

I don’t understand. “After what?”

“After you let them get too close,” he mutters. “After you let an Alpha think he can claim you.”

I swallow hard. “But I thought that’s what we’re supposed to do. Omegas and Alphas. That’s how it works.”

He stands up, his hand gripping the back of the couch like he’s holding himself together.

“Don’t you ever forget it’s not about love. It’s about possession. Control. The second you let them in, you’re theirs. And you don’t want to be theirs, sweetheart. Not unless you want to lose everything.”

“But—”

“I’m serious, Juliet. You stay the hell away from them. You understand me?”

I nod, but the pit in my stomach grows. Because it sounds like he’s talking about something more than just the fated mate bond. It sounds like he’s afraid. And it’s not the only time he says it.

My breath catches, the memory of his words churning in my gut. His face flashes in my mind, the tightness around his eyes, the way he’d look at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. He knew what it was like. Knew what I’d face when I started shifting.

That’s why he drilled it into me. “Stay away from Alphas.” It was more than just a warning. It was a command. And now, here I am. Because I didn’t fucking listen.

The suppressant barely works. It’s too late. The bond is already starting to rip through my mind, tearing down the walls I’ve tried to build. Abel isn’t just an Alpha. He’s my father’s best friend, although we barely know each other. I haven’t seen him since I was a little girl.

And now he’s the one I can’t escape. The one fated to be my mate.

My body aches. My pulse spikes again, and this time it’s more than just heat. It’s his presence creeping into my thoughts, wrapping around my mind like a shackle. I’m not ready for this.

I reach for my phone, fingers trembling, but I stop. There’s no one I can call. No one who can help. Because once the bond takes hold, there’s no going back. And the worst part? The part that makes my stomach twist into knots? I want to give in. I want to let him in.

I want him to claim me. But I can’t. I won’t. Not if it means losing myself.