Page 62 of One for the Money
I’m happy to give you what I have, but I have gone back on the suppressants, so I won’t be able to provide any more.
Matteo
We’re grateful for anything you’re willing to give.
Can I ask you a personal question?
You can say no if you want. I know we don’t know each other well.
I stretch out in my nest, lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling. My muscles scream in protest, and the dull throbbing ache emanating from my head makes my stomach churn.
There’s a joke that doctors make the worst patients, and I can confirm that it’s true. I want nothing more than to whine and cry and beg for someone to take care of me, but I doubt I’d let them.
I can’t let anyone in.
Except that Matteo is texting me. He wants to chat. What do I have to lose in answering a question, especially over text? Words on a screen would be better than being utterly alone. It’s not like he’s asking to come sit across from me in a facsimile of an interrogation.
It’s a text.
And it’s Matteo. It’s hard not to feel safer with the Beta than the others. His scent definitely called to me, but he’s not an Alpha, and that makes a huge difference when it comes to my comfort. I don’t need his scent to live, and he doesn’t need mine.
He’s unable to treat me the way Rich did.
Sure, I suppose so.
Matteo
Do you really think Quinton is like your ex?
Ouch, right for the jugular. Matteo does not pull any fucking punches, does he?
My ex wasn’t like my ex when we first scent matched.
Matteo
Fair.
But in your gut, don’t you know he’s not?
I don’t know any of you, not really. And now I will never truly get to know the real you, because this will always be hanging over our heads.
How can I know you’re being genuine when, deep down, I know you’re only treating me this way because we’re scent matches?
Three dots appear, then disappear. Then appear again. Like he can’t come up with an acceptable response to my question.
Because there isn’t one.
We will never be able to know each other as just a man and a woman, because now we know that we are scent matches and all the designation bullshit comes into play, too.
I throw my phone to the side and grab a pillow to smother my scream.
This is exactly what I was trying to avoid when I put myself on those heavy-duty suppressants. I wanted to be able to hide out in the fucking circus for six months as I try to figure out how to get my life in order. I didn’t wantanyromantic entanglements, much less a scent match.
Oh, and lucky me, it’s not just a scent match.
It’sfive.
How many more are out there? Am I going to scent match every time I walk into the grocery store? How about at the dentist’s?
