Chapter Forty-One

Eve

Something's off, my inner omega mutters, rousing me from my nap.

Covering a yawn, I sit up, glancing about the nesting room. My alphas must've left me here to sleep after I wore myself out online shopping. A part of me isn't convinced about buying all these things for the pup without seeing them in person, but my alphas assure me we can return whatever doesn't sit right.

Speaking of not sitting right … I lift my nose, frowning when I sense it. Something potent as sweat, but sweet at the same time.

Delicious.

The scent thickens with every step out into the hall, guiding me past Baxter's room— nursery, I correct myself—then Riley's … Red's … and …

Oh, wow .

It's coming from behind Marcus's door. Just breathing it in, even suffocated through the wood, turns my blood to molten lava. My knees buckle, breaths coming out in short, heavy gasps.

My omega goes nearly feral, screaming at me to go to my alpha. He needs me. So, so badly.

As if to prove the point, there's a muted sound through the door—something between a whine and a snarl, so full of desperation, of hunger, that I can't control myself any longer.

I instantly put my hand on the door handle, not even bothering to knock. When I push, it doesn't budge. It doesn't make any sense to my lust-laden mind, as if I'm seeing the world through steamed-up lenses.

"Alpha," I say—no, chirp . "Alpha!"

Someone's coming up behind me. My omega pays them no mind until their arms are on my shoulders, steering me away. I snap around with flashing teeth, only to be met by Baxter's stern growl.

"Easy," he rumbles, "easy, omega."

"He needs me!" I snarl.

"I know," he answers grimly. But if he knows, why is he stopping me?

I thrash against Baxter's grip as he guides me further away. My body feels so heavy it's a wonder I can fight at all, but it's like there's a magnet in my gut, drawing me back to that door.

" Mm —" I whimper at the thought, slick seeping through my underwear.

My head alpha's purrs calm me just enough to take me downstairs. I put my face in his neck so I don't sob aloud, knowing I'm in pain, but not knowing what kind of pain.

"Oh my god," I hear Riley's voice. "What happened? Is she—"

"Get some blankets," Baxter orders. "Make sure they're scented."

Riley dashes away and Baxter carries me through the den, all the way out to the front door. He's trying to get me away from alpha's scent , I realize, thinking of Marcus writhing in need, alone , upstairs.

The fresh air does clear my head some, but my body is still burning, slick pooling by the second. I cling to Baxter for dear life, praying he understands my wordless, whimpering pleas.

I don't know if he's telling me to breathe, but when he sits down on one of the logs by the bonfire and starts taking big, deep breaths that make my body rise and fall against his, the message becomes clear.

In … and out. In … and out …

Something tingles in my stomach—not arousal this time, but a sweet reminder of life. I gasp.

I forgot about the pup . How could I possibly—?

"Marcus has gone into rut," Baxter explains, as though answering my question. "I'm sorry for taking you away from him, but he wasn't going to let you in, and your omega was turning feral."

My inner omega huffs with indignation.

"Why won't he let me in?" I ask hoarsely. "He wants me. I felt it."

Before he can respond, the front door bursts open and my other alphas come racing out with enough blankets to nest an army.

"Baxter," Thorn says as Red and Riley wrap me up, "I think Marcus is—"

Unable to help myself, another whine breaks free, knowing how that sentence is going to end. Red shoots daggers at our second while Riley smooths my back, cooing softly.

"Yeah," Baxter sighs. "We know."

Thorn frowns. "He won't let her in?"

This time I know the whine is coming and swallow it back just in time. If an alpha's rut is anything like an omega's heat, and Marcus is suffering through it without me … I don't know how I'll ever forgive myself.

"He must be worried about the pup," Riley says. "Right?"

Red scoffs. "Yeah, 'cause Marc loves to fuck rough."

"He's in rut, " Riley says, firmer. "How much control do you have when you're rutting?"

I get the sense it's a rhetorical question, thinking back to what Baxter told me about the pack's rutting patterns. Before I got here, my alphas would occasionally … help each other out. Just thinking about it is enough to make my stomach flip excitedly, recalling that sweet, heady scent behind Marcus's door. I could help him, too, if he'd let me.

"It's more complicated than that," Baxter says. "Marcus has barely let himself touch Eve in weeks."

Thorn nods. "He doubts himself. Doesn't feel worthy."

Not worthy? My alpha? I know things have been weird between us since that day at St Mercy's, and Baxter's right—he hasn't so much as kissed me in weeks—but this whole time, I assumed that was because he was disappointed with me. Unconvinced by Doctor Ascott's recommendation. Have I had it backwards?

"I can't just sit here," I assert, squirming free of the blankets. "I have to go to him."

Baxter sighs. "Eve …"

"He's in pain!"

"Yes, he is," Thorn acknowledges. "But if he was ready to see you, he would've opened the door."

The words stop me in my tracks. Here I am, trying to charge into my alpha's private space and sit myself on his cock, when he hasn't even given me his consent to get past the door. What kind of sick mate am I?

"What the hell, man?" Red snaps at Thorn. "Don't talk to her like that!"

"Someone," I whisper, "c–could someone please go check on him? See if he's o–okay."

Baxter's chest hums against me—a deep, contemplative purr. "Red," he says at last.

Riley shifts forward. "Don't you think I might be a better—?"

"Red," Baxter says again, harder. "Go."

With an aggravated chuff, Red storms off inside. I crane my head to watch him go, my omega crying at me to follow, insisting only I know what Marcus needs.

Whether or not she's right is not the issue. It's Marcus's body.

Marcus's choice.