I’m still inside Killian’s bedroom, scowling at the ceiling. All I can picture is his sweet, chiseled face, wishing I could put a dent in it somehow.
It’s bad enough I wear his shirt. It was all he had in his cavernous closet, and it's like he has claimed my body by wrapping his clothes around me.
Still, that doesn’t stop me from burying my nose into the collar of his shirt and taking a sniff. It’s drenched in his glacial, peppermint scent.
Fuck. Why does he have to smell so fucking good?
I hate him. Truly. But I won’t deny that I want to fuck him, which makes it ten times worse.
Stupid alphas. They won’t always be on top. One day, we omegas will rise against them. We will mate with whoever we want, and no one will tell us what to do or where to go ever again.
First, we just need to overthrow the government.
Yeah, I’m having a hard time coming up with ideas on how to go about that.
My stomach grumbles yet again, and I turn away from the door, scowling at the window. The lights outside mock me.
Such a beautiful city. Once you get over the smell of car fuel and urine, it’s actually pretty nice.
I always wanted to live in a fancy city when I was a kid, like a character in a TV show. I would wear nice clothes and do whatever I wanted. I could date whoever I wanted.
But all that changed the day I became an omega.
Fuck fate. She’s one twisted bitch.
But I will show her. I will get out of this penthouse and find my dream cabin.
There’s a muddy bog somewhere with my name on it. My cramps come and go, a sign of my pre-heat.
Hopefully, the effects of the drugs that Martina snuck into my supply have died by now, and it’s a good thing I noticed what was happening before it was too late.
If I had taken any more of her pills, then I may have gone into an artificial heat.
I can’t be around Killian when my heat arrives. There’s no telling what I will do. I almost caved at the strip club, and that had been a result of the drugs Martina slipped into my supply.
I’ve never been around an alpha when I’m in true heat. I’ve always been alone.
My first heat had been a traumatic experience, and I would have gladly drowned in that mud. Four days. Fourfreakingdays, and I still managed to survive. It was a miracle I even lived.
The memory returns, and I see myself falling down in the forest. I had just escaped the OCC that very morning. I had been on the run for hours by that point, and despite everything that I had put my body through, my heat still came.
I could hear them chasing me, the guards from the compound. So I plucked up a reed and used it as a straw, then submerged myself deep in the mud.
Luckily, they never found me. The mud had masked my scent, managing to cool me down long enough before the spasms really set in, and that was how I remained for four days straight.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of my first heat.
So fucking romantic.
The door creaks open, and I grind my teeth when his fresh, wintery smell wafts in.
“Dinner is ready, Buttercup.”
I sigh. “I’m not interested.”
Silence.
Killian steps toward the bed, a growl vibrating in his chest. “Buttercup…”