Page 12 of Power Shift

That sharp twist of lemon twirled around a warm, buttery shortbread cookie lingers in my nose and on my clothes, maybe even soaking into my skin. I gasp at the fresh air, but it doesn’t help. The omega’s scent won’t fuck off.

I’m jostled around by people shoving past me on the sidewalk before I duck into an alley and brace my hand on a brick wall, my chest heaving. I focus on the bite of the jagged edges against my palm and pull a shuddered breath in between my clenched teeth.

Cinnamon flares in the dark alley as my scent spikes again. The smokiness of it is no match for the citrus that I can almost taste on my tongue or the pasta still all over my front. I’m drowsy, swaying on unsteady legs as I flare my nostrils and inhale another hit of it.

My knot pulses in my slacks, cum wetting my briefs.Fuck. I need to go back there and?—

No. I’m going the fuck home.

Grip unforgiving, I turn my back to the street and palm my cock. A soul-deep groan flies up my throat at the relief I feel, even from just one squeeze. The world swims in my vision, the alley closing in around me as I fight to keep my feet glued to the filthy gravel.

I rip my fingers through my hair and cringe at the clumps in it. That fucking omega did far more than mess with my cock. She’s responsible for the current filthy state of my clothes too.

My cell vibrates in my pocket. I ignore it, knowing it’s most likely Dash. He tried to come with me tonight, and if I wasn’t in need of some time alone, I’d have let him. Now, I’m grateful for my desire for loneliness.

If he’d been here, that omega would have been with us right now. I wouldn’t have been able to escape alone.

The soft-hearted beta is too similar to Jasper for his own good. Both of them want an omega to fill a gap in our pack that I’ve become fan-fucking-tastic at ignoring.

Releasing my groin, I thump my head back against the side of the brick wall and pull my phone free. There are two missed calls, but only one came from Dash. The second name isn’t one I expected.

Ronan’s cold baritone is instant when I call him back.

“Get lost?”

“No.”

Fuck, I sound as messed up as I feel. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that he won’t notice. Ronan doesn’t care much for words and instead prefers to read too much into other people’s. Even when we were kids, Jasper always spent more time speaking on Ronan’s behalf than he did his own. We’ve hardly ever been able to hide a damn thing from him.

“What happened?”

“There was a mix-up.”

“At the restaurant?”

“Yeah. I’ll figure something else out.”

A weighted pause. “Did you get pulled over again, Lan?”

“That was weeks ago. I didn’t know the taillight was busted.”

“You were speeding.”

I roll out my shoulders and squint at the bright street ahead of me. “The highway should have been marked as a hundred, not eighty. Who drives eighty on a major highway, Ronan? We both know the cop only pulled me over to be a dick.”

He releases a long exhale. “How long is this going to take?”

“Tell Dash that we’re ordering in next time.”

“Yeah, he heard. So?”

“So, I’ll be a while. I’ve got to find replacement food.”

“Just come home!” Dash shouts from somewhere close to Ronan. “I’ve already opened my bag of emergency chips!”

“He doesn’t have emergency chips,” I mutter.

Ronan grunts. “Tell him that.”

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