Page 28 of The Alpha's Sin
He shrugs, his bony shoulders rising under his dirty jacket.
“I’m just saying what we all know is true. You’re in Heat and you need a male to service you. Leroy and I would be more than happy to help.”
“Yeah,” the balding one says. “More than fucking happy. Why don’t you come with me and Kyle and we’ll show you.”
“Leave!” I point at the door. “Don’t make me call my husband! He’s an Alpha and he’ll mess you up!”
The one in the red cap laughs.
“You ain’t got no husband, girly. I don’t see no ring on your finger and I don’t smell no man on you—especially not no Alpha.”
Just then, to my extreme relief, my manager comes out from the back room where she was doing inventory. She seems to sense the tension in the air because she frowns at me.
“Is there a problem here, Poppy?”
“No, Ma’am, no problem,” the balding one says, answering before I can say anything. “We were just on our way.”
He takes the bag, which I’m still holding out, and the two of them slouch out the door.
I breathe a sigh of relief but I still feel uneasy. Things could have gone much worse if my manager hadn’t chosen that exact moment to appear. The two ragged, dirty men must have been Weres. But do I really smell that strong? I take a shower every morning. Maybe the scent of being in Heat can’t be washed away with soap and water…
Whatever the case, I feel like I narrowly avoided a very dangerous situation and I’m not sure what to do to keep something similar from happening again.
It makes me feel vulnerable and weak and scared…I don’t like that but there’s nothing I can do about it.
18
LOGAN
That night at dinner, Poppy is quiet. I know something must be wrong—she’s usually such a bright, chatty little thing. I’m worried about her. She’s keeping her eyes down and answering in monosyllables when I talk to her. She’s also barely picking at her food, even though I made chicken Caesar salad, which is usually one of her favorite meals.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“Poppy, what’s wrong?” I demand, losing patience. “And don’t tell me everything’s fine—I know it’s not. I can tell by the way you’re acting.”
She opens her mouth…closes it…then looks up at me with worried eyes.
“Logan,” she begins uncertainly. “Do…do I smell really, uh, strong to you?”
“Smell really strong? What do you mean?” I ask, frowning. Clearly something is going on—I just don’t see what it is yet. But I’m determined to find out. “Do you think you smell bad, sweetheart?” I ask her. “Because I promise, you don’t.”
In fact, she smells incredibly good. The scent of her Heat teases my nose and makes my cock so hard it hurts, but I’ve been trying to ignore it because I can’t do anything about it. I haven’t massaged her again since that first night—it feels dangerous to let her get naked for me when I want her so damn badly.
But she’s shaking her head.
“No, I don’t mean do I smell bad—I know I don’t. I take a shower every morning. I just…wondered about my scent. From a Were perspective, I mean.”
“Well…you smell hot,” I say, frankly. Better to be honest about it. “Like a female in Heat. Why, is it bothering you?” I have a sudden unwelcome thought. “Did somebody say something to you about your scent?”
“Well…kind of,” she hedges. “It wasn’t a big deal though, really.”
But I can see by the haunted, vulnerable look in her eyes that it is a big deal to her.
“All right,” I say. Putting down my fork, I rise from my seat and go to hers.
Poppy gives a surprised squeak when I scoop her up, but she doesn’t make any protest when I carry her to the living room and settle on the couch with her in my lap. She has her head down but I lift her chin gently but firmly and look her in the eyes.
“Tell me what happened,” I say. “All of it, whatever it was. Did someone hurt you? Threaten you? I can’t protect you if I don’t know the score, sweetheart.”
