Page 45 of Fight

“I use an alpha pheromone blocker spray,” I explain numbly. “I have no idea what you two smell like.”

“Why? Don’t you want what all little omegas want?” Jasper asks sarcastically. I think I hurt his feelings, but I’m having a hard time being able to control what my mouth may say right now.

“To get packed up?” I ask with an almost hysterical laugh. “Absolutely not. I think I’ve never heard of anything worse. I want to keep my choices. If I never scent my scent matches, then biology won’t have a chance to strip me of options.”

Jasper blinks at me for a second as if my words are breaking his brain, and I sigh.

“If Arthur is dead, which while I’m appreciative of, I’m not ‘let’s throw my life away’ kind of appreciative. Can I go home?” I ask.

“Impatient and sassy,” Tommy mutters, still sounding amused as he walks closer. “You have quite the arsenal of cooking pans here, Bluebell. Were you planning to bludgeon us into submission?”

“You hid the knives,” I remind him, sulking as I tuck my legs underneath myself. “I have a business and a life in another fucking state. I don’t understand what you want from me.”

“I want to get to know you,” Tommy murmurs. “I don’t share well.”

“Wait, what?—”

Jasper lunges forward and pulls away the pans from me as Tommy pulls my arms over my head, pinning them to the couch cushion above me. My breaths are exploding from my chest as my eyes widen as I look up at him, feeling oddly betrayed.

Is history repeating itself?

“Shh, I’m not going to hurt you,” Tommy says softly. “I would rather cut a limb off with a rusty saw than hurt a hair on your head.”

“Oddly romantic,” Jasper says with an eye roll. I have to admit he’s right as the large mafia leader straddles my body. He’s not soft anywhere, his muscles prominent, and his thighs reminding me of tree trunks.

He could snap my neck with two fingers I’d bet. Shuddering at the morbid thought, I force myself to breathe. My intrusive thoughts can’t be allowed to get the better of me right now. The second he straddled my body so he could look down at me, I stopped breathing entirely. He has a way of consuming everything, and I don’t know how to feel about that.

I’m not supposed to want anything to do with either of them. They’re fucking kidnapping alphas.

“I have to say I’m not impressed by the romantic efforts, if that’s what these are,” I say coolly. My skin feels a little overheated, even though my heat is a ways away. I think it’s just these two hot as fuck alphas.

Jasper, pushes his hand through his blond, wavy hair as he moves my weapons farther away from me before sitting on the couch by my head. Tommy is leaning over me in such a way that I had to drop my head back on the couch cushions in an effort to find a little space.

“Such a tough cookie,” Tommy grunts. “How long have you been using your nasal spray, Bluebell?”

“Six and a half years,” I tell him. The first one I used made my nose hairs burn and was God awful, but the formula and my supplier have gotten better over time. Corbin, a mafia leader, is who I get my alpha blocker spray from now instead of some sleazeball dealer off the street and I haven’t had any issues with it.

“It’s not addictive, so don’t give me a lecture, Daddy.”

I definitely have daddy issues, and I’ll fully own up to that in my head. Tommy’s smirk is too damn hot to stop calling him that, I don’t see anything wrong in the indulgence.

“I’m going to spank your bratty ass,” he growls. “You’re not taking that shit anymore, is that understood? Do you know how long it’ll take to wear off?”

My body starts to sweat as I panic. I’ve been trying not to think about this, and I close my eyes for a second as I think about the fact that it’s been over twenty-four hours, maybe closer to thirty-six now that I last used the inhaler style spray. Fuck, I may not be addicted to the damn thing, but I am very dependent.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, a wave of anxiety crashing over me, and making my ears ring.

“Woah, Cerenity, breathe,” Jasper barks, making me shudder. These two brutes couldn’t calm anyone or anything down. They’re just too big.

“I’m trying to, douchebag,” I gasp, my eyes snapping open. “Backing the fuck up may help.”

Tommy releases my wrists as if I was on fire and backs up, and like magic, my lungs open again.

“I’ve never gone without my inhaler in the entire time I’ve been using it,” I tell them. “I have no idea when it’ll wear off.”

“Why would you cut a part of yourself off from the world, Bluebell?” Tommy asks.

I never thought about it like that. Instead, it’s always been about protection from the outside world.

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