Page 39 of The Rejected Omega

I hold my hand out for the bottle. “I need that.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Your refill’s not due for another two weeks. What happened?”

Was ittwoweeks? Fuck.

I shrug.

Connor tosses me the empty bottle and looks toward the parking lot.

“Come on. You’re getting soaked.”

We get to my car, and he slides into the passenger seat without a word, snapping the umbrella closed and laying it at his feet.

I rest my forehead against the steering wheel and try to breathe.

“So, you do know Kanata.”

I nod weakly.

“How’d you get an appointment with her? Didn’t think she took new patients. More focused on research these days.”

“Mac helped.”

His scent turns acrid. “Mac knows?”

I swallow thickly. “Don’t get mad at him. I made him promise not to tell you.”

“Where is your alpha? Why do you need so many suppressants?”

“He’s not around.”

Connor raises a dangerous eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Long story.”

“Who is it?” There’s an undertone of threat lacing his voice.

“They’re not in the picture. They never have been.”

“Fucking bastard. What kind of fool would reject you as their mate?”

What kind of fool, indeed.

“If he’s not around, what do you do for your heats? Go to a center?”

I shake my head.

His voice tenses. “Who sees you through them, then? Please tell me it isn’t that fuckhead footballer.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Mushrooms and Cheese.”

I snort. “No. No one sees me through them.”

“What? You ride them out alone?”

I don’t know what compels me to tell him the truth. It just spills out. Someone I can confess to, finally. “I haven’t had a heat since I first matched.”

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