Page 93 of Hot Knot Summer
“The good times are over,” I tell him flatly. “You made sure of that when you rejected me at my most vulnerable. When you looked at me like I disgusted you.”
“Emma, please?—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I want nothing to do with you. Not now, not ever again.”
“I’m coming to Whispering Grove,” he declares suddenly. “I’m going to find you, okay? We need to talkface to face.”
Panic surges through me at the thought of him here, in this place that’s become a sanctuary of sorts. “Stay away from me, Chad. I mean it.”
“You’re not thinking clearly right now. Once your heat passes?—”
“Fuck off,” I snap, ending the call before he can say anything else.
I toss the phone aside, curling tighter around myself as another wave of pain and need washes over me. The conversation with Chad has only intensified my distress, memories of his rejection compounding the physical agony of being alone during this heat.
What am I going to do? My heat’s never hit this suddenly before, never been this intense. I didn’t bring any emergency suppressants with me, why would I when my cycle wasn’t due for weeks?
But there’s nothing manageable about this consuming fire in my veins, this desperate emptiness that feels like it might tear me apart.
Maybe I can take the edge off myself. It’s not ideal, but it might provide some relief until the Alphas return.
With shaking hands, I slide my shorts down my legs, gasping as the cool air hits my overheated skin. I’m embarrassingly wet, thighs slick with evidence of my arousal. I close my eyes, trying to summon the memory of River’s touch as I slide my fingers through my folds.
The first touch sends a jolt of pleasure through me, but it’s immediately apparent that it’s not enough. Myfingers feel too small compared to what my body is demanding. Still, I persist, circling my clit with increasing pressure, desperately seeking release.
When the orgasm finally comes, it’s a pale imitation of what I experienced with River. A momentary spike of pleasure that does nothing to ease the aching emptiness inside me. If anything, it makes it worse, highlighting exactly what I’m missing.
I need a knot. I need an Alpha. I need my Alphas.
With shaking hands, I reach for my phone again, scrolling to Atlas’s number. It rings several times before going to voicemail.
“H-hey,” I stammer when the tone sounds. “It’s me. I kinda need to speak to you urgently. Please call me. I just...” I trail off, unsure what to say without sounding pathetic. “Just call me.”
I hang up, cursing under my breath. Next, I try River, hoping he might be more likely to answer, given what happened between us last night. Again, the call goes to voicemail.
“River,” I say, my voice betraying more of my distress this time. “I need—” A particularly sharp cramp cuts me off, a grunt of pain escaping before I can stop it. “Please call me as soon as you can. It’s important.”
Levi is my last hope. I dial his number, my vision blurring with unshed tears of frustration and pain as I listen to it ring endlessly. When his voicemail prompts me to leave a message, something in me breaks.
“Oh God, where are you all?” I sniff, unable to keepthe desperation from my voice as another wave of heat crashes through me. “I’m in heat. Please, I need help.”
After hanging up, I curl around River’s pillow, trying to find comfort in his lingering scent, but it’s fading, a poor substitute for what I truly need. Tears of frustration leak from the corners of my eyes.
As the minutes tick by with no response, my desperation grows. Maybe they’re truly unreachable. What if they’re in danger?
With trembling fingers, I dial the fire station, praying someone there can at least tell me when they might return.
“Whispering Grove Fire Department,” a familiar female voice answers. “Claire speaking.”
Of all the people to answer, it had to be her, the volunteer I met my first day, who looked at me like I was an intruder even then.
“Hi,” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m trying to reach Atlas, or River, or Levi. It’s urgent.”
“They’re at the elementary school,” Claire replies, her tone coolly professional. “Gas leak situation. Is everything okay? You sound... distressed.”
So that’s the emergency call. At least now I know where they are. “Do you know when they’ll be back? I really need to speak with them.”
There’s a pause, then Claire’s voice takes on a different quality, less professional, more personal. “You know, they’re working right now. Saving lives. They don’t really appreciate being... bothered while on duty.”
