Chapter 12 In which I’m reminded of how much I hate being alone

I spend the rest of the day alone. I go for a run on the treadmill in their gym, take a shower, grab a snack and then nap. The late night and bonding bite from Luca have apparently worn me down. Even then I still wake after just an hour.

When I stumble out into the living space, it’s empty. I’m pretty sure the entire place is empty.

There’s a note stuck on the fridge that just says,

Sadie, we’ve gone to work. Don’t leave the penthouse. -M

They brought me here to give us a chance to get to know each other. That is obviously not what’s happening if they can’t get away from me fast enough. I don’t know if Maddox said something last night that changed all of their minds, but I know this is not the way to get to know people.

The only thing I’m getting to know is I now have the distinct urge to invade all of their spaces, find things that carry their scent, and then take them back to my tiny little room and weave them into my dull gray blankets. It’s a struggle to not let that happen.

It would be too weird for them, and for me.

So instead I wander into the kitchen. I love cooking and baking. When I need something to do, that’s usually my number one choice. I’ve treated Sorrel and Sylvie to more home-cooked meals and baked goods over the years of our friendship than I would really care to admit.

I pull open the fridge and peer into its depths, checking what they have, pulling together a menu in my mind. Checking the time, I see there’s a few hours until dinner, which means I have the time to execute what I’m thinking.

I don’t examine why I’m trying to make such an elaborate meal as I start the puff pastry from scratch. I’m certainly not trying to impress the pack. To have them see me as worthy of being their mate… Its just that I have so much time on my hands and nothing to do since I’ve been ordered to not leave the penthouse.

Yeah, it’s just a matter of timing.

Right.

It’s been hours . Literal hours since I finished making dinner. The food has long since gone cold. I waited for as long as I could, but eventually my stomach demanded that I put food in it, so I ate some of the side dishes, alone, on the couch with the TV on and tears sliding out of my eyes periodically.

It’s nine when I finally decide to put everything away. They obviously don’t want me. I don’t even know why the hell I’m still here.

As I clear the table and put the unused dishes away, I decide I’m just going to leave. I nod to myself as I stretch up to put five clean plates back into the cabinet. There’s no fucking reason for me to be here alone. I’d rather be alone in my little cabin on the lake, with Sorrel on one side of me and Sylvie on the other. Sure, Sylvie won’t actually be there, and Sorrel always works, but at least I know they like me. At least it’ll be a familiar loneliness rather than this… stupid ache in my chest that feels a lot like rejection.

I need to leave. I need to protect myself from further pain. Further rejection.

I have no clue what they’re thinking, even Luca, who I can feel like a flicker in my chest if I think about it. Maybe since I’m their scent match, they feel a little possessive and like they want to lock me away in a tower, keep anyone else from having me. Even if they don’t want me. Maybe they think I’ll just wither away up here.

Or maybe this is what they expect of their omega? To be fine waiting alone while they go out and work. Maybe this is what they want me to do for the rest of my life.

Well, fuck that.

And fuck them.

I don’t need this shit.

I made them a fucking beef wellington with homemade puff pastry! I made a three layer chocolate cake! They can’t even bother to show up or reach out, check in. To spend time with me. Or to give me the courtesy of knowing where they went and when they’ll be back.

I bite my lip as tears threaten. Fuck. I’ve never wanted to cry as much as I do right now. I know on some level that it’s the new omega hormones I have coursing through my body. Omegas need alphas, and once they find their alphas in particular, it’s hard to be away from them.

Scent matches make it even more difficult.

I had heard that alphas who have found their scent matches are overly possessive and domineering. They need to know their mate is safe and taken care of. This doesn’t seem to be the case for me. Not even a little. They aren’t here and they don’t seem to feel the same need I do. The pull toward each other. The ache of being apart.

Maybe I’m wrong about them being my scent matches.

I have nothing to base it off of. No reason to believe it to be the case other than that I feel it.

But what the hell good is a feeling, if this is the way I’m going to be treated?

Maybe I should ask Sylvie. Maybe she can give me some insight… Maybe she can meet me and we can hang out and talking with her will help me feel better about this situation.

Or maybe I can just… leave.

My eyes flick toward the elevator and the security pad there. They haven’t bothered to put me into the system. Surely the elevator doesn’t keep people in. It should only keep unsavories out. Right?

Yeah. I can just leave. Grab my car and…

Fuck.

Fuck!

My car. It’s parked on the street near The Market. It has been since yesterday, which means I at least have a ticket, but it might have been towed by now.

Why didn’t I think about this last night, or this morning when I was out with Logan? Oh, I know why. I was dick drunk. Luca and Ethan made me dick drunk and then Swift licked me until I came three times and orgasms made me stupid.

I need to move my car.

Or better yet, I need to just get my car and head home.

Yeah.

That’s what I need.

Decided, I leave the rest of the cleaning up as it is. The foods all put away, and that’s the only part that really needs to get done. Those assholes can finish the dishes when they come back to an empty fucking apartment.

I head into the tiny windowless room and double check that there isn’t anything of mine in there. It’s empty. My bag is in the bathroom, since that’s where I got ready this morning before leaving to get a morning after pill with Logan.

I pause in the bathroom, thinking about the morning, about running into Dr. Schwab and how Logan had been all alpha protective over me.

Was that just because I’m an omega, or because he thinks of me as his omega? I know I must have been putting out some indicators in my scent about how I feel about the doctor. It’s a thing omegas do, and I don’t have any experience with tempering my emotions in order to avoid broadcasting what I’m feeling in my scent.

Something I need to work on.

Right now, I know my scent is turning tart with hurt, flooding the bathroom and down the hall.

Its fucking annoying is what it is.

I wonder if one of those big box stores is still open, so I can get some cheap scent canceling soap before I head home.

I pick up my bag and toss it over my shoulder, fully intending to stride out of the penthouse, flashing double birds at the pack that clearly doesn’t want me. But just as I turn toward the door, my omega wails at me, refuses to let me take that step.

Because my stupid new designation wants me to stay with the pack, with my bonded mate. It wants me to climb the stairs and find the nest that I know is up there and burrow under a mountain of blankets that smell like all of them, and punish them with the silent treatment until they figure out a way to make this up to me.

I grit my teeth against the tugging urge.

No.

I refuse to do that. I refuse to be that woman, that omega.

Maybe I won’t leave completely, but I sure as hell am not going to just wait for them to come back.

That’s way too pathetic.

The bag slides off my shoulder and hits the floor. That seems to settle the omega in my chest a bit, realizing that I’m not leaving the pack for good.

I’ll get my car, head to a store and buy some new soap and descenter spray.

If they come home while I’m gone and find the penthouse empty?

Well, I’m okay with that.