Page 21 of Real

Right. He probably doesn’t use sex toys. Like all alphas, I’m sure H prefers real sex over messing around with a hunk of plastic.

A wave of loneliness washes over me. If all the lawyers are right and I was created by some warlock for Dorian, that means I’m nothing but a discarded sex doll. Somebody’s fuckup. A walking mistake.

I hug my knees to my chest and close my eyes. Dorian was right. I belong in a dark closet where no one has to look at me.

“Buddy, it’s okay if you don’t want a dildo. Heats are very personal. What can I do to make your heat easier for you tonight?”

I shake my head. For some reason, I feel very emotional right now. H is just talking about plastic and offering to help me. Why do I feel so sad?

While H drives, I notice his scent keeps getting stronger. It gets to the point where I feel overwhelmed by it.

In the back of my mind, I know what this means. I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about sex, and I don’t have a sensitive nose. Not until I’m about to go into heat.

I don’t know how long I have. I rarely start my heat early. The only exception is when I can hear Dorian having sex. Maybe being with H triggered something inside me.

If I can stop thinking about sex, maybe I can stave it off until we get to the jail. If I can make myself come a few times, I might be finished by the time H is done visiting Candlewick. I can use some of the extra clothes in the back to cover myself up and air out the car as much as possible before H returns.

Or I could tell him I’m about to go into heat early. He might take me to a motel like he promised. Or he might guess what made my heat start early. What would he do if he knew how much I wanted him? And what will I do if I know he’s just outside the motel room? The first months with Dorian, I shamelessly begged him to fuck me despite the names he called me in response. Will I be able to control myself around H?

Probably not.

It’s better if he’s visiting Candlewick during my heat. Or maybe I just think that because I’m getting close to my heat and my logic is fuzzy. I can’t be sure.

All I know is that I’m too scared to tell H what’s going on.

10

H

I should have asked about his heat when I agreed to visit Candlewick. In fact, we should go back to the beach house and visit Candlewick later. But we don’t have a lot of time. If I’m going to get Buddy out of here, we have to leave tonight, and we can’t go until I’ve had a chance to talk to Candlewick. I need to know how he feels about his current situation so I can reassure Buddy when we’re gone.

I’ll keep the conversation with Candlewick quick, then we’ll have plenty of time to get Buddy comfortable before his heat begins.

I drive faster than the speed limit toward the jail. Buddy stays curled in a ball the whole time. I shouldn’t have said that stupid stuff about plastic feeling good. For all I know, Buddy has some bad memory with dildos, or maybe Dorian told him they were no good. I was just trying to reassure him that his touch felt good to me, even thoughheis plastic.

He clearly doesn’t want to hear that right now.

I’ve been to this particular jail before. There’s a gate where I have to show my ID once we get there. As I drive around the parking lot, trying to find a parking space with shade for Buddy, I notice a new scent in the car. It’s a little musky, almost like the smell of the breeding pits.

I could never forget that smell. It will be imprinted on my memory until the day I die.

Maybe Buddy starts slicking a bit before his heat begins. I inhale deeply through my nose. There’s no mistaking it. That’s Buddy’s slick. God, it’s intoxicating. I want to bury my nose in the crook of his neck and suck his skin. I want to wrap my body around his and ask him if I can be his alpha, if only for the night.

If I looked like Steppe, would he let me?

I find a parking stall in the corner and turn the car off. That’s when I realize I can’t just leave Buddy here. If I can smell him, other alphas will be able to as well.

What am I going to do?

“Buddy, I can… smell you,” I say as evenly as possible, but my voice is still a little rough.

He jerks his head up. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. This isn’t your fault.” I lift the neck of my shirt over my nose so I can think.

He flinches. “I’m sorry, H. I’m so, so sorry.” Tears well in his eyes. He’s almost vibrating with terror.

Do we need to leave without talking to Candlewick? That would be better than putting Buddy at risk like this.

---