Page 19 of Angel Boy
Arms lift me in the air, Carter saying something about how I did good before I’m lost to my heat, my vision blurring completely.
I lose all sense of time, losing and regaining consciousness, unsure of what's real and what isn't. One moment I'm backstage, the next I'm moving through corridors I don't recognize. Doors are opening and closing around me as I mumble Xavier’s name in between pleas for someone to help me.
Nothing makes sense until I'm placed on something soft. My first instinct is relief, but then I realize it doesn't smell right. This isn't my nest with its carefully curated collection of soft things and comforting scents. This place smells all wrong, like expensive cologne and leather instead of home.
But I'm too far gone to care, stuffing my face into whatever fabric is available and trying to find some small comfort in the texture against my fevered skin. Somewhere above me, a voice I don't recognize says, "Your Alpha will be here soon."
Alpha. The word should bring comfort, but it doesn’t because I know they don't mean Xavier. They mean Ryker, and thethought of facing him in this vulnerable state makes me want to disappear entirely.
More doors open and close, the presence of whoever was with me falling away, a cry slipping through my lips when I realize I'm alone. My body is a sticky, uncomfortable mess of sweat, cum, and slick, my outfit stuck to my skin.
I clamor around the bed with blurred vision, looking for something, anything that might help me make sense of where I am or how to get out. My hands shake as I feel along the pillows and then find the surface of a table, maybe a nightstand? I’m not sure.
I keep feeling around, groaning with relief when I find a landline phone sitting there. Without thinking, muscle memory taking over, I punch in a number I know by heart. It rings once, twice, and then—
"What now?" Ryker's voice is sharp with irritation, my insides cringing at his tone.
Even though I want nothing to do with him, my instincts pushed me to call my scent match rather than the Alpha I want.
"Angel? I told you to wait like a good Omega," he continues when I don't immediately respond. "You'll wait for me."
"I don't know where I am," I whisper, my voice cracking with exhaustion and fear. "I want to go home. Please." I know I’m at his house, but without really being able to see anything or understand what’s going on around me, terror fills me.
"I brought you to my home. I couldn't have you spending your heat in that penthouse—people would talk."
I cry out as I start rocking my hips against the blankets on Ryker’s bed, his scent becoming so much clearer now. Of course, they would have brought me here.
His home. Not our home, not somewhere we chose together, but his territory where he has complete control. He planned this, didn’t he? The performance, the timing, bringing me here whenI was too far gone to resist. This isn't about love or biology or even desire—it's about ownership.
"I don't want you," I tell him, and even in my current state, the words feel powerful. Like the last piece of myself I can still claim.
A cruel laugh spills through the earpiece as I cling to the phone. "I'm all you have, you ungrateful bitch. When I get there, I'm going to bond you. You won't be able to want anyone else then."
Bonding me would be a permanent affair. Once he bites me during my heat, my biological imperative will take over, and I will no longer be physically or emotionally attracted to anyone else. Just the thought of Xavier would disgust me.
And Ryker would know that.
A new wave of tears stream down my face as the full horror of my situation becomes clear. He's not just planning to assault me—he's planning to rewrite my brain chemistry so I'll never be able to leave him, never be able to choose Xavier, never be able to choose myself.
I feel around on the phone and end the call, whimpering when the device slips from my hands and falls to the sheets. I start feeling around for it again when a cramp renders me useless, my body curling into a little ball.
“Xavier, please.”
Xavier
I forgot how much it sucks dealing with people at headquarters. It’s like pulling teeth, running Marcus through paperwork and protocols, HR all but throwing me the pamphlet so I can do it. I know this is just all bullshit and a way to separate me from Angel, but that’s the least of my worries.
It’s been just over two hours, and I haven’t received a call or text, or literally anything that would help grasp what’s going on at the Rickland center. I’m trying to focus, but I’m about to lose my cool.
By now, he should be finishing up his performance, probably exhausted and ready to go home. The silence from everyone involved is making my skin crawl with anxiety.
"You know I've got your back on this, right?" Kellan says, signing the last of his paperwork with a flick of his wrist that’s a bit more elegant than I would have thought possible for an Alpha. "Whatever's happening between you and Angel, whatever choice he makes about Ryker—I'm not here to play politics or enforce someone else's agenda. I'm here to keep him safe."
"I appreciate that more than you know," I tell him, meaning every word. "Angel deserves someone in his corner who actually gives a shit about his well-being instead of just his market value." I rub at my chest, my brows furrowing with concern. It’s like there’s a pain there, but it isn’t mine. That bond I have with Angel shouldn’t be possible, but it’s definitely in play, and I don’t like what I’m feeling.
Marcus notices but doesn’t comment on it, his attention turning to his phone when it buzzes with a notification. He frowns as he looks at the screen, his expression shifting from confusion to horror in the span of seconds.
"Uhm, what the fuck?" he mutters, then turns his phone toward me. "You need to see this."
