Page 71 of Secret Heart
What the hell?
I press the button again, but he notices my movement this time. He slaps the phone out of my hand. Even with his growl buzzing in my ears, the shattering of the screen is distinct. I swallow down a cry, terrified if I make any noise at all he’ll do something more dramatic than pin me here and break my phone.
“I’ll fix it, though. I’ll make sure you always want me.”
Before I can react, there’s a sharp, stinging pain in my left forearm. I jerk away from him, but he only brackets my throat, squeezing the pressure points until my vision blurs.
“Let’s give it a minute, though, just to make sure it really kicks in,” he says, all malicious venom. “We don’t want that bitch to think this was my idea, after all.”
My heart races in my ears again, different than before. My mind is fuzzy, and I want to scratch my skin right off my bones. My breathing is choppy. Even as I try to figure out what’s happening, my body slowly goes languid, like… like when I’m in the early stages of my heat. Slick coats my thighs, soaking my scent blockers. I need a knot, and I need itnow. I need vanilla,myvanilla. But that doesn’t make sense. I’ve not had any of the symptoms that mean my heat is imminent.
I glance down, trying to figure out what’s happened.
A small needle lays on the floor near my foot. I lift my wrist even as another wave of complete and utterneedfills my veins. There’s a small trickle of blood trailing down the back of my arm and toward my wrist.
“You… you triggered me?” I gasp out the words.
A trigger shot is even more potent than the pills Omegas can take to jumpstart their heat cycle. The effect is nearly instantaneous rather than the ten to twenty minute lead-in that the pills require.
His hold on my throat tightens, and I whine.
“Made sure no one else would interrupt this time,” he says. “Montana is a whole lot more boring than California, but I’ll take what I can get. And now I’m getting you.”
This… time?
I try to think back to April, to that beer that didn’t quite taste right, but the thoughts drift away under a blanketing wave of desire. I try to pull away from him, but his hold only tightens more, enough I’m sure there will be bruises later. There’s apounding that hurts my ears, but I can’t tell if it’s just my heartbeat. It feels like just my heartbeat. There’s one more agonizing minute where all I can see are Tyler’s angry, bloodshot eyes as need pours through me, obliterating all common thought, and then his hold on my throat tightens too much.
All at once, the entire world goes dark.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
BEAU
Aphone ringing rips me from sleep, the half-formed dream clinging to the edges of my mind even as my heart races. Emily rolls into me, her curves molding to the hard lines of my body. Vanilla surrounds me in a fresh wave, and I kiss the crown of her head.
“Em?” My voice is a rough whisper. “Your phone.”
She only snuggles deeper, tilting her face until her forehead presses hard into my sternum.
The ringing stops, and I slowly relax, exhaustion lulling me back into a half-awake state. There’s a whisper of movement from the baby monitor, and I stretch just enough to see the small screen. Penny’s rolled onto her side, pressed right up against the bars of the crib, but her eyes are closed.
Emily’s phone rings again, and I jump at the sudden noise.
“Emily,” I murmur, shaking her awake. “Your phone, firecracker. Someone’s calling you.”
I shake her again, and she finally sits up. Once she’s turned away from me, I turn the lamp on my bedside table on to the lowest setting, blinking at the wash of warm light. She must’vegotten up at some point after our lovemaking because one of my undershirts drowns her shape, the v neck hitting low enough on her to reveal the swell of one breast. She rubs her eyes and blindly reaches for her phone.
“Hello?” Her voice is scratchy. She runs a hand through her hair, combing it over her shoulder. “This is Emily.”
There’s a long pause where she tilts her head, frowning. Then her eyes widen, and her vanilla scent snaps out from her like an explosion. She scrambles off the bed and rushes to the dresser, pulling open drawers and dropping pieces of clothing on top of it without any rhyme or reason.
“So, wait, let me make sure I understand,” she says.
She twists the small clock she keeps on the dresser top, focusing on it for longer than is probably necessary. Just shy of midnight. We hadn’t been asleep for more than an hour.
“He’s in heat?”
My heart jumps into my fucking throat.
