Page 93 of The Heat of Us

“You scared me,” Aleks said in a low voice.

“I’m sorry,” I apologised automatically.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Stay out of danger.”

The intensity of his stare gave the blue in his eyes an almost silver sheen. It was impossible to stare at too long. I tore my gaze away, forcing out a half-hearted scoff. “You just don’t want to lose your sweet, matchbox-sized bedroom.”

That made things so much worse.

Aleks was in front of me in the space of a heartbeat, cradling my cheek in his hand. “That has absolutely nothing to do with me needing you to be safe,” he said fiercely.

Then he blinked, as if realising what he’d just done, and drew back.

Ben was watching him almost…approvingly. He finished up the final bandage and took my hand in both of his. “How are you feeling now that the shock has worn off a little?”

I thought of the uneasiness I felt whenever I left the apartment lately. The two encounters with Damien, while irritating, weren’t hugely different from the others I had had from interested men in the past. The fact that he didn’t escalate and call me a bitch was actually an improvement.

Truthfully, I had felt more uncomfortable when I overheard an older alpha berating his much younger bonded omega the other day when I’d left the gym. It had been a reminder of how vulnerable my designation made me.

“What is it?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Your feelings are never stupid, Hazel.”

“It was probably just a freak accident,” I said, not wanting to sound paranoid. “But sometimes I feel unsafe when I go out and it makes me wonder if it could be something more.”

All three of them stiffened, closing in on me like wolves thirsting for blood.

“Who?” Ben asked dangerously.

I almost laughed. They just didn’t get it. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” I shrugged. They seemed taken aback by my casual tone. “I’m an omega and my safety is dependent on how the tide of public opinion is swinging that particular day. It’s not just about the graffiti I see around the city, or the unchanging biological fact that I am susceptible to an alpha’s compulsion. It’s feeling unsure if doing something as simple as going to the post office or to my therapist will get me harassed. So I douse myself in scent neutralising spray everywhere I go and pray that it’ll be enough.” I lifted my chin, looking at each of them squarely. “Have I actually been harassed? Not really. But I can’t lie and say it’s something I don’t worry about.”

They all seemed shocked by this. Shocked by my daily, accepted reality.

“Hazel,” Remy breathed.

“It is what it is,” I said, my words clipped.

Ben pressed his fingertips into the space between his eyes. “I think…you being in your nest will help. You for your recovery, and for us to know you are somewhere comforting.”

The steel in my spine disappeared instantly. My voice wavered. “No.”

He misunderstood my refusal. “Oh, I wasn’t asking to be invited in,” Ben corrected himself quickly. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no, but I was more referring to the way nest environments aid an omega’s wellbeing.” He stood up. “I can carry you if you’re still a bit too wobbly to walk.”

“No!” I said shrilly. They couldn’t see. They couldn’t know. They would have questions. Or worse they would realise. Realise the damage, the ruin that lived inside me.

“What’s wrong with your nest, Hazel?” Aleks asked me shrewdly.

Of course he would be the one who suspected.

I let him get a little too close and this is the consequence.

“Breathe.”

I was being cradled into the curve of Ben’s neck, his hand threading through my hair. I instinctively took a huge gulp of his scent — intense, bracing and…

A fractured sob slipped out.

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