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Before I could take a step, he leaned forward, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Be a good omega and tell me what really happened to your thumb, and maybe we can play a fun game of keep-our-hands-to-ourselves again.”
I glared at him over my shoulder as I climbed the stairs, but I knew it was more of an angry-horny face than an angry-angry face. “Youcan keep your hands to yourself, I make no such promises. Get inside and take your pants off.”
Kit snorted. “And you callmebossy. You’d make a fearsome alpha, Margot.”
“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” I sighed, unlocking the door to my flat and holding it open for Kit to follow. I made a beeline straight for the sink to wash the strawberries, beyond glad I could satisfy my craving without attempting another trip to the supermarket.
Fucking Jimmy.
Kit sat down on the loveseat, stretching out his long legs in front of him and watching me expectantly.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” I muttered, taking a bite of a strawberry to give myself a little more time to formulate an answer.
Something about this moment felt important, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on what it was.
“Jimmy didn’t find my dildo picture very funny, I guess.” I shrugged, attempting to downplay it to no avail. Kit immediately leapt to his feet, looking ready to charge out into the streets and chase Jimmy down.
I remembered with perfect clarity the last time I’d purred. It had been the night before that cursed pool party. I’d been sitting on the swinging bench on my parents’ patio with Fraser, drinking lemonade while he laid down, his head in my lap because he always liked the way I played with his hair. He’d been stressed about his university application, and of course, I hadn’t hesitated to purr for him—that soft, lullaby-like omega purr meant to offer an alpha comfort, the same way theirs offered us comfort.
After that night, I’d never purred again. I wasn’t sure I remembered how until this exact moment when Kit needed it. Before I’d consciously decided to move, I was wrapped around him—arms around his neck, legs around his hips, tipping him back onto the couch.
My purr may not have had the same drugging effect that his did, but his taut muscles did relax as his arms banded around my back, holding me tightly in place.
“Margot,” he groaned. “Stop being so appealing. I have ass to kick.”
“No you don’t, I handled it. Hence the itty bitty cut on my thumb. You don’t have to take care of my problems.”
“I know that, Margot. I know you’ve got everything under control. I justwantto. I want to make your life easier.”
He’s confused by your scent. The purring probably didn’t help. Just get through the awards night this weekend and put some space between you, and all these heightened emotions will go away.
And that’s a good thing, I told myself firmly.The best thing. For both of us.
Chapter 18
Afterfourteenyears,Iknew with perfect clarity what to expect in the lead-up to my heat.
First, my scent sweetened. In the weeks beforehand, I was horny as hell all the time. In the final few days—when Ireallyhad to wrap up whatever I had going on at work, stock up on supplies, fix up my nest, and send out do-not-disturb messages—a low, consistent ache started up in my womb, a teensy preview of the crippling cramps to come. When my body temperature spiked dramatically, then I knew I had to haul ass to the nest right away.
It was such a formulaic process, and I was usually so in tune with my body that it was surprising to realise the low ache in my womb had already started as I climbed out of the car in front of The Ellis for Kit’s awards evening. I just hadn’t noticed it right away because of the sharper, increasingly urgent pain in my chest.
“Everything okay?” Kit asked, handing keys to the car he’d borrowed from Nico to the valet while I tugged my coat a little tighter around my shoulders, shielding myself from the world.
Everything felt so fragile.Ifelt so fragile. I really wanted to support Kit tonight, but the temptation to stay home and hole up in my nest had almost got the better of me.
I shot Kit what I hoped passed for a breezy smile. “Of course.”
Itwas. Or it should have been. The reason itwasn’twas currently resting a large firm hand on the small of my back, looking like dapper perfection in a tailored three-piece suit, smelling like coffee, whiskey, and dreams I’d long since banned myself from having.
Self-consciously, I fluffed out my loose curls, resisting the urge to check my makeup for the sixteenth time.
“We can leave if you like,” Kit said, guiding me through the grand foyer of the hotel to the coat check. I’d been to a law awards dinner here once, though the crowd had been a little more dour, at least at this stage of the night. The woman in front of me had shed her coat and was attempting to find somewhere in her skintight red dress to hide a hip flask. “I hate these things. So much… small talk.”
Kit all but shuddered, and I shot him a reassuring smile over my shoulder, needing to look up at him despite wearing my highest ankle-strap heels.
“I’ll small talk for the both of us,” I assured him, knowing how uncomfortable talking to anyone but his small inner circle made him. “Just keep me supplied with mocktails and hors d’oeuvres. Nothing that tastes like mushrooms,” I added after a moment’s thought. “Fungi only if it can’t be seen or tasted in any way.”
“So hard to please,” Kit teased, a smile playing around his mouth. It was a curse that he was so handsome. And so nice, beneath his layers of social anxiety, general distrust of omegas that I was slowly educating him out of, and loner tendencies.
