She cringed and turned her head. It was her fault. She shouldn’t have given in. She had let her instincts out, and she had trapped him, just like her mother said. She couldn’t look at him, at what she made him do. “I’m sorry.”

  Jaxon held her face and pulled her mouth to his neck. She didn’t resist him. “Bite,” he said.

  She shook her head. It wasn’t right. She made him do it. She made him want her. She couldn’t take away the choice for him to have another mate. A better mate. She screwed up. She should be the only one punished.

  “Bite,” he said again.

  The Command was thick in her blood, but it worked in words, not on intention. Layla turned her head and sunk her teeth into the meat of his shoulder.

  Jaxon grunted and pushed her closer to his mating gland, but she refused. “No,” she slurred.

  Jaxon slammed his fist into the headboard, and she heard it crack. She turned her head and closed her eyes. Her heart broke under his anger and disappointment. But she couldn’t do that to him. She had already messed up so much.

  She belonged to him irrevocably. Like Roan belonged to Holden. Like Kaiser belonged to Georgia. Like every generation of omega that came before her. She didn’t have any life to go back to now. It was all over. The small hope of returning to her family like nothing happened had been dashed with his teeth in her neck. She couldn’t force him to belong to her.

  Jaxon growled and cursed virulently, but his fingers were a caress on her skin. She felt his hand at her neck again, rubbing at her scent gland soothingly. There was no soothing her now, though, but she wasn’t angry. She distantly wondered if that resulted from the wash of oxytocin and serotonin.

  He continued to snuffle into her neck and pet her. He helped turn her on her side and held her against him.

  The familiar dizziness was finally creeping back in. She shivered in cold. She sighed and burrowed her face into his chest. She liked the taste of cinnamon and the salty sweat she found there. If she tasted copper, she pretended that she didn’t.

  Jaxon was angry. So angry. She could feel it now, not just in his smell but inside her.

  “Alpha?” she whispered.

  “Hmm?”

  Layla glanced up at him, and his dark eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She hunkered down in shame. “I’m sorry.”

  He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Shh.”

  She shuddered, lost and lonely. She had felt so good. Why did she have to screw it up?

  Jaxon sighed, and she could feel it in her bones. “We need to shower.”

  Layla nodded.

  Jaxon helped hold her up as she stumbled to the bathroom. There were bloody footprints on the floor. Tiny feet. Hers. A large hand lay on the floor in the hall, the rest of the body hidden behind the wall. Right. She helped do that. She defended the den. Her nest was safe because of her.

  She needed her nest. She wanted to sleep. She was really tired. Layla wiggled out of his grasp and tried to turn toward the closet.

  Jaxon grabbed her arm. “Shower first.”

  Right. She nodded.

  Jaxon turned on the water, leaving Layla at the door. She crept forward to the mirror. She almost didn’t want to look, but curiosity was often her failing.

  Her skin was sickly pale, with a blooming bruise over her mating gland. Jaxon hadn’t broken the skin, but he hadn’t needed to. There was blood in her hair and on her cheeks, smeared across her breasts and down her stomach. There were red marks across her skin where he had torn the shirt from her body.

  “Oh.”

  It was horrifying and unattractive. She wrapped her arms around her middle and bent over the sink. She was filthy and a mess and ugly and a whore—

  Jaxon pulled her into his arms. “Layla, shh. Come on, kitten. None of that.”

  He moved her under the warm spray and kept her standing. Blood swirled down the drain, mostly Axel’s, some Jaxon’s, a little hers. It was art. Her art history professor would call it art. She took a class last semester. It felt like a lifetime ago. A life she would never get back.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  She closed her eyes as he shampooed her hair and rinsed it away. He kept her close, always pressed against him. Layla didn’t mind. She was too tired, and he was warm. He was comforting. She shouldn’t get used to it. She would need him for the rest of her life.

  He ran his hands over her body, soap and cloth. Clean. Then he turned them, taking the brunt of the spray for himself, quickly washing. He hissed as he cleaned the cuts on his back.

  “I’m sorry,” she said once again.

  “Enough,” he snapped.

  She flinched and backed away in the small space of the tub.

  “Fuck,” he said. “Come here, kitten. It’s alright. You’re alright. I’ll take care of you. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

  She leaned against his chest and nodded. She believed that he meant it, but he wouldn’t stay. He was already frustrated with her and her beta-ness. Once he had to deal with her without being manipulated by her heat, he would leave.

  He’d find a real mate that wasn’t broken or a whore. A mate that didn’t hit or scratch or cry. She would return to being alone, just like her mother told her she would be.

  Layla rested against him while she could, taking in the comforting scents of soap and cinnamon. This could be alright for a while.

  After the shower, Layla wobbled back to her nest of pillows and dark. Jaxon’s scent was heavy there. The scent of her mate. God help me, I have a mate. She didn’t want to think about it.

  Jaxon slid into the closet behind her and closed the door. He curled around her and pulled her back against his chest. She reached back and touched his damp hair.

  Her Alpha. Her mate.

  She never thought she would have one. She didn’t want one.

  He nuzzled her neck and massaged her wrists, forcing more calming chemicals into her system. She would have been angry, but she was so anxious that his touch was the only thing keeping her from falling apart once again.

  Layla tried to purr, but it only felt like a weird vibration in the back of her throat. Maybe omegas couldn’t purr. Helena purred; maybe it was just Layla. Maybe she was broken. She was such a terrible omega. She couldn’t make anyone happy. Not her mother. Not her mate. It didn’t matter what she tried to be. She should embrace being a disappointment.

  She choked on a sob, and Jaxon shushed her. His hands were heavy on her skin, and she wanted him heavier still. She wanted him to crush the breath from her so she wouldn’t need to think, just concentrate on breathing. He wouldn’t, though. He refused. Every time she pulled him over her, he would shift away and soothe her with his mouth over her mating gland.

  He didn’t attempt to convince her to bite him again, and she was grateful. She didn’t know if she would have the strength to refuse again.

  “Alpha,” she begged.

  “Shh,” he whispered. “You should sleep.”

  Layla whined. “I want to sleep. I can’t.”

  He sighed deeply and rubbed his hand over her stomach. It made her insides clench and ache in a way that had nothing to do with her heat. “Kitten…”

  “No,” she said. She turned in his arms and held his cheeks between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Make me sleep.”

  He looked at her with sad eyes that she so rarely saw in him before that day. She hated that she put that expression there. His hand skittered across her ribs, and he nuzzled her neck again.

  “Please,” she said.

  “Sleep,” he Commanded, and Layla felt sweet relief as she slipped into unconsciousness.

  Chapter 13

  Layla opened her eyes to darkness. She had slept, but there had been no rest in it. Her joints felt frozen together, and her mouth was dry. She was cocooned under a weighted blanket filled with beads that mimicked a warm hug. The closet was quiet, and Jaxon was gone. She pulled a pillow close and took in his scent. It calmed her, soothing some deep animal part of herself.

  She was deeply lonely by herself in the dark. She felt sick. She wanted her mom. Except her mom would be horrified. She wanted her dad or Mina. She wanted her Alpha, but he wasn’t there. He had left her again.

  Her fingers twitched. She could feel them, but she couldn’t see them. Was she even here? “Alpha?” she croaked.

  The bed beyond the closet creaked, and Jaxon slid the door open. Diffused light spilled into her nest, and the world had color again. Jaxon was dressed in a clean pair of sweatpants and a shirt. Seeing him clothed was suddenly strange and distressing. She whimpered. He was leaving.

  “Kitten?”

  “Can you see me?” She didn’t feel real — like she was so hollow she was invisible. Maybe he had been looking for her, but he couldn’t see her, a ghost made of skin.

  He crouched in front of her and poked the tip of her nose. “I can see you, kitten. You’re right here.”

  She smiled, and he smiled back at her. Her mate smiled. She could feel his happiness inside her chest, a strange contentment. She had never felt it before, even for herself. It might have been part of the bond or something else. She didn’t know. She should have paid more attention in school. She was so stupid.

  She felt the anxiety creeping up, clawing at her throat. She was being bad, but she couldn’t stop it. And that only made the anxiety worse.

  Jaxon touched her cheek, drawing her thoughts away from the turmoil inside. She tried to focus on him, on his calloused fingers on the skin close to her mouth. He smelled so good. She flicked her tongue out and tasted skin and a burst of cinnamon from his wrist. She shuddered.

  “Good girl,” he whispered.

  She rubbed her face harder against his hand. She wanted to draw him back inside and curl up in his scent. She’d even let him fuck her again if he just came back inside, but he resisted her pull.

  She whined. She had to be doing something wrong. She needed to ask someone, but she didn’t know very many mated omegas. Everyone at school was unmated. Oh, Roan. He could help. He knew all the special rules that came with mating.

  “Can I call Roan?”

  Jaxon frowned. “Later, you need to rest right now.”

  Alpha was right. She was tired. Maybe Roan was tired, too. He was always so busy with his alpha. Mina was always complaining that he was too busy to hang out. Layla never tried to hang out with Roan. Would she ever get to hang out with Mina again? She didn’t want to leave her sister all alone.

  “Can I call Mina?”

  Jaxon laughed. “Definitely not.”

  Guess she’d never see her sister again. Alphas were territorial like that. Panic and fear crawled up from her stomach. Would she get any of her old life back? Would he force her to live in Greenway Tower and never leave? She didn’t want to be trapped. She didn’t want to be alone. She reached for him, grabbing at his knees plaintively. “I have class. I’m in school. Can I go to school? I don’t want to get in trouble. Please, let me—“

  He gently pushed her back into the closet. “None of that now. No class today. Just sleep.”

  Her lip trembled. “Maybe tomorrow? I can go tomorrow.”

  She felt his anger in her stomach. She made him mad again.

  “Next week, Layla. Stop trying to leave,” he said.

  Layla nodded and pulled the blanket over her head. He couldn’t be mad at her if she didn’t exist. She forgot he was so mad at her. She needed to remember that if she was supposed to be a good omega. She had been a good beta for so long… She had to be good.

  Jaxon put his hand over the blanket and pressed on her head. “Kitten, we are going to have company soon. I couldn’t hold them off—“

  There was a knock on the apartment’s outer wall, and a familiar feminine voice said, “Son of a bitch…”

  “Fuck,” Jaxon snarled and slid the closet door closed. “Stay there.”

  Layla curled further in her blanket burrito. She didn’t want visitors. She felt sick to death of people in her space.

  “Jax, what did you do?” the feminine voice asked.

  Georgia. That’s who that was. Oh no. Another alpha in her den. They would fight again, like Axel. Layla needed to—

  “Yeah, he made a mess,” a masculine voice said. She knew this one, too. Clover. Beta Clover. Mina’s Clover. Not a threat, but not welcome either. “Couldn’t you have taken this to the hallway? You have carpet.”

  Jaxon growled, and Layla shivered. He wasn’t angry, not truly angry, more annoyed and frustrated.

  “Enough,” snapped a third voice. Damian Sorreto. Alpha. Angry, mean alpha. “I pay you to clean, not to run your mouth.”

  “Aye, aye, captain,” Clover said.

  Damian sighed. “Did the girl see this?”

  Layla scrabbled to the back of the closet and flopped against the wall. She was so groggy, that she couldn’t keep her hands or knees under her. She was trapped. There was no place safe for her anymore.

  “She’s the one who stabbed him in the back,” Jaxon said.

  Damian hummed. “Let’s go see the damage then.”

  Layla ducked under her blanket, curling it around herself. She was still naked. She didn’t mind it so much when it was just Jaxon — but Damian. Damian hated her already. He would think she was a whore. Worse than a whore. What was worse than a whore? Her mother probably knew.

  She heard them enter the bedroom, and the door slid open. Damian crouched in front of her nest, and she let out a small growl. Where was Jaxon? Where was her Alpha? Damian clicked his tongue at her like she was a dog, and she reluctantly pulled the blanket off her head.

  There he was in front of her, wearing slacks with a button-up shirt and vest, his sleeves rolled up. His hair was more silver than gold now, compared to her memory of him dragging Bryson away from her father, though he wasn’t any less commanding.

  “Come here, Omega,” Damian said.

  Layla flinched. She wasn’t an omega. Except she was, but not for him. She wasn’t an omega for him.

  Jaxon growled. “She doesn’t like that. Don’t call her by her designation.”

  Damian nodded, keeping his eyes on Layla. “Come here.”

  The demand wasn’t a Command, but it nonetheless drew her forward. She could smell the pine and notes of old books in his scent.

  Damian put his hand under her chin, and she tilted her head away to keep his fingers from touching her skin. She had no desire to let him touch her, but the movement seemed to be what he wanted as he stared at the bruising over her mating gland.

  Damian growled softly. “You really know how to make a mess, Harlow.”

  She could feel Jaxon tense like a bowstring. One pluck, and he’d break. He sat on the bed, stripped of all its sheets. He watched Damian stiffly, clearly unhappy with another alpha so close to his bitten mate.

  Layla silently agreed. Damian needed to leave. She wanted to be alone, preferably alone with her Alpha. She bared her teeth at him, and Damian chuckled.

  “How long has she been like this?” Damian asked.

  “Three days now,” Jaxon said. “It comes in waves, not constant.”

  Damian nodded, and Layla copied the motion until she felt dizzy. He touched the side of her face to stop her. Layla glared, but the world was swirling too much to be effective. She didn’t feel good.

  “That happens when the suppressants are still trying to work, but her biology has triggered anyway. Did you speak to Kaiser?”

  Layla attempted to growl. “I don’t like Kaiser,” she mumbled.

  “Several times,” Jaxon said, ignoring her.

  She felt his annoyance like a spike of adrenalin, and she decided to be annoyed with Damian, too. If he got his fingers close to her mouth, she’d bite him.

  “Did anything change after you bit her?” Damian asked.

  Jaxon shrugged. “She’s been asleep.”

  “How long?”

  She couldn’t have been asleep that long. She still felt awful.

  “About twelve hours. I Commanded her.”

  Damian growled so low Layla could feel it through the air more than hear it. “Idiot,” Damian snarled. “You interrupted her bonding instinct. A restricted bonding can cause a cascade of physiological consequences—”

  Layla whined. The alphas were angry. They were angry at her. She screwed up. She screwed up. She was such a fuck up.

  Jaxon clenched his fists. “She wanted me to—“

  Damian turned toward Jaxon, but he remained on his knees at Layla’s side. “And you listened to a compromised omega? What a knowledgeable alpha you are.”

  Layla barked in distress. She had to get their attention. She couldn’t let them fight. No more fighting. She couldn’t take it. No more blood. No more death because of her.

  Damian turned back to her and purred, a lighter rumble than Jaxon’s deep bass. It was a contented sound like her father made. Parental. It soothed her and must have done the same for Jaxon because he settled back into the bed. No fighting.

  Damian stared at her. “What is she on?”

  Jaxon rubbed his face. “Kitten, what suppressants were you taking?”

  She glanced between them warily and looked away to pull a pillow close to her nose. Jaxon’s scent filled her senses. It was the only comfort she was going to get. “Omerex.”

  Damian grunted and leaned further into her nest, sniffing. “Wayland Corporation. When are you due for your next dose?”

  Layla glanced at him and then away. She didn’t like his direct attention. It was too focused. Like he could see through her — like she was hollow. Who was going to fill her up again? “Three months,” she whispered.

  Damian cursed and rubbed at his beard. She could smell his agitation. “Once is an aberration. Twice is a lawsuit. Fucking hell.”

  “So it is the same?” Jaxon asked.

  Layla was so confused. What were they talking about? Why were they mad? She wanted to soothe her Alpha, crawl under the bed with him, and hide, but she couldn’t get past Damian.

  “Likely,” Damian said. “Aslin Nash is an alpha. Her mother… she was a beta.”

  Layla nodded. Her mother was a beta who never understood these things. Not that Layla understood them either. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wasn’t supposed to have a heat, have a mate. She was supposed to go to school. Marry a nice beta. Have pups. Oh no, not pups, children. Betas had children. Omega whores had pups because they were animals.

 

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