Page 91 of Knot Your Rebel

“I need to call him. Tate needs to know.” Reaching out, she grabs my arm and pulls me into the house. Her grip is stronger than I remember. Her fingers dig into my skin as if she’s scared I’ll just disappear.

Never, Rebel.

Never again.

I lost you once.

I won’t do it again.

“‘No. Need you, Drake,” she pleads in a moany little voice. Well, fuck, that’s new. “It hurts,” she whimpers, clutching her belly. Fuck, I hate that look. I hate seeing her in any type of pain.

I should call Tate. Tell him his omega is in heat. But the alpha part of my brain says fuck that. She’s our true mate, and if she needs us, we aren’t getting fucking approval from the alpha who stole her from us.

“Fuck.” I sigh out. I’ve got no choice here. Leave her in pain or just get the shit kicked out of me. It’s obviously going to be option two every time. She starts to cry as I pick her up. Her eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and she’s holding onto me like I’m her last redeeming hope in the world.

Walking her into his house, I head towards the living room and place her on the couch, looking around. Hell, even the house is coated in her intoxicating scent. My pheromones are flaring as my scent mixes with hers.

I pick up the phone and dial Tate. I need to tell him. It’s the right thing to do.

“Drake?” He answers with a question, as if he wasn’t expecting me to call him.

“We have a situation…”

His sharp intake of breath tells me he’s not exactly thrilled with those four words. “What’s going on?”

I take a deep breath before speaking. “Not to make you worried or anything, but Rebel is in heat. Was she like this before you left her earlier?”

“I mean, she was her normally needy self, but nothing worse than that. Fuck, it’s weird telling you this shit. I’ll talk to Coach, see if he can play the backup tonight.”

“He’s not going to say yes.” I say what I’m sure he’s thinking. Coach won’t say yes. I’m already out. This is one of the biggest games this season. There’s no way he’ll pull Tate.

He sighs. “Fuck, I know.”

“What do you want me to do? I can help her through this. Or I can take her to the heat club? Although I think she’s too far gone for suppressants at this point. She’ll be in pain. Do you want to set your ego aside and let me tend to your omega in your absence or do you want her to suffer?”

“You know the answer to that question, but you have to promise me you’ll make her feel safe and comfortable. And you can’t mark her.”

I remain silent for a few beats. That’s not a promise I can keep. If she’s mid-heat, begging for my knot and my bite, I’m going to damn well mark her.

“Drake…” he growls.

“Fine, I promise.” Lie, lie, lie. There’s no way. But I’m not about to tell him that.

“I’m still asking Coach. I’ll get back to you.”

“Talk to you then. In the meantime, I’m going to tend to your omega.”

He growls, and I can almost see the angry look he’s giving me through the phone. “Do not enjoy it. This is helping her, not helping you.”

I chuckle. “That I cannot promise. I will take care of her, yes. Without a doubt. I cannot promise I won’t enjoy every minute of it.”

“Fuck.” I hear him mumble the word right before the call hangs up.

My whimpering omega catches my full attention. “Please, Drake. Please,” she cries out. “It hurts so bad.”

“Shhh… I’ve got you, Rebel. You’re doing so good.” I start rubbing her lower back, hoping to help with a distraction.

Fuck, I may be freaking out. I don’t have an omega. I’ve never helped one through a heat. Does she have everything she needs? I’m assuming Tate bought her stuff for a nest. I’ll have the knot and cum she’ll crave. Food. Hopefully there’s food in the fridge or I’ll be dealing with SnackDash.

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