Page 51 of Daisy
My stomach drops. "Meaning?"
"Meaning she'll go into heat if we don't get her suppressants. Soon."
The words hit like lightning.Heat.Our omega, burning with need, surrounded by four alphas who are already half-crazy with want. The thought sends liquid fire through my veins and makes my jeans uncomfortably tight.
"Fuck," Gunner mutters, running both hands through his hair.
"We need suppressants," I say, stating the obvious.
"Black market," Cassian suggests grimly. "But that means going back to the city."
"Which is exactly where they're looking for us," Dante adds. "But we don't have a choice."
I can see the wheels turning in everyone's heads. Going back means risk. Staying means watching her suffer through a heat and knowing we could go into rut and take her against her wishes. She's too scared, too broken for us to help her through it. Not yet. Not until she settles and trusts us completely.
"We can't all go," Gunner says slowly. "Someone needs to stay with her."
"And we need our stuff anyway," Cassian adds. "Clothes, money, whatever we can grab before we have to disappear completely."
Dante nods. "I don't need to go back. I lived in the guard quarters, don't have anything worth keeping. But I've got money." He pulls out his wallet, extracting a bank card. "Whoever goes can use this. Clean out my account before we ditch it."
"We go in pairs," I say, the plan forming as I speak. "Gunner and I can hit our place, grab what we need. Cassian and August can do the same. Get in, get out fast."
"That means staying here longer," Gunner points out. "More risk of being found."
"Less risk than all of us going back together," Cassian counters.
The silence stretches, heavy with the weight of impossible choices. Every option is dangerous. Every decision could get us caught or get her hurt.
"We hash this out properly tomorrow," Dante says finally. "Early morning, when we can think straight."
Nods all around, but I can see the tension in their shoulders. The same war between instinct and morality that's been eating at all of us.
"I need a shower," I announce. "Wash off the road."
"Same," Dante says, running a hand through his hair. "Been a long fucking day."
"Take the one in here," I tell him, nodding toward our bathroom. "I'll use the one in the other room through the connecting door."
In the small bathroom in Daisy's room, I strip and turn the water as cold as it'll go. The shock hits like a slap, clearing my head for exactly thirty seconds.
Then her scent finds me anyway.
Honeysuckle and vanilla has worked its way into my very essence, wrapping around my senses like a drug. The memory of carrying her floods back, how perfectly she fit against my chest, how her fingers curled into my shirt like I was her anchor. The soft trust in her midnight eyes when she whispered my name.
My hand finds my cock without permission. Already hard, aching, demanding attention I shouldn't give it.
Stop.
But I can't. Because I can still feel her warmth, still hear the way she said "safe" like I was her salvation. My imagination conjures images that make my breath catch. Daisy looking up at me with something more than trust in her eyes. Her lips parted. Her scent spiking with want instead of fear.
I stroke myself with quick, desperate movements, chasing release before guilt can catch up. The water pounds down, cold and punishing, but nothing can wash away the need burning through my veins.
When I come, it's with her name on my lips and starlight behind my eyelids.
The aftermath hits like a sledgehammer. I lean against the shower wall, gasping, feeling like the worst kind of bastard.
Real classy, Hawk.
