Page 10 of Omega's Forbidden Heat
“No. But in the end she found some research that showed sometimes these things just happen. Like a genetic mutation. Sometimes it can happen in the sperm or egg even before fertilisation, sometimes the mutation happens much later, in response they think to something in the environment. But what that is, they have no idea. And why it happened to Amy…”
Jack scratches his thumbnail along the stiff material of his jeans. “That must have sorted everything out then. I mean, between your mum and dad.”
“The damage was done, though, wasn’t it? Amy was mad with my parents, my mum is mad at Amy and my dad, and my dad knows he is in the doghouse. Not that that’s made him any less liberal when it comes to Amy.”
“What do you mean?”
Finn’s eyes remain locked on this screen. He wets his lips with his tongue and his tone is tighter when he answers, “He hasn’t exactly been supportive about the heat thing. He was never one to let Amy have boys round to stay and he’s made it very clear she couldn’t have an Alpha in his house to help with a heat.” Finn shifts on the sofa as he says the last few words, as if these thoughts make him physically uncomfortable.
Jack scoots forward and takes a handful of tortilla chips, then lies back and crunches his way through them. Not being able to bring an Alpha home to her nest for a heat would be agony for an Omega. It’s where they feel most secure and safe during their most vulnerable time. She’s probably had to go elsewhere. That strange mixture in his stomach burns at his insides. Anger that her family could be this careless with her welfare. Jealousy at the idea of some other Alpha…
He forces his attention back to the screen. Focuses all his energy on the movie, not allowing any other thoughts to creep into his mind.
Towards the end of the movie, Finn falls asleep. Jack can hear his soft snores in the darkness. He should wake him and send him to bed. Then he should go home himself. There’s no reason to stay. Instead, he watches all the movie credits, until the screen goes blank and only then scrabbles up to find the remote control, flicking through the channels until he finds a football show and settles back in the cushions, glancing at his watch every so often, super alert for the sound of a car or footsteps in the driveway.
The old Grandfather clock in the corner of the room has just struck one in the morning with a low chime, when finally he hears the crunch of gravel under tyres and he sits up, every fibre of his body suddenly keen. The engine stops and there’s muffled voices, a car door slams and someone approaches the house. A key scrapes against the lock as the car pulls away and he can’t stop himself from slinking into the hallway.
Amy’s frustrated expletives permeate through the door before it flings open suddenly and she tumbles into the house, straight onto her knees
She remains that way, head bent, for several seconds, her face hidden by a curtain of fair hair, and then slowly her chin lifts and she peers through the darkness.
“Jack?” she whispers. He remains silent and she staggers to her feet, walking her hands up the wall to steady herself. “I know you’re there. I can smell you.” Her tongue curls in her mouth as she speaks and she takes a wobbly step towards him.
“You’re wasted,” he scoffs.
“Yep,” she says, nodding her head vigorously and kicking off her heels. They skid along the wooden floor, halting at his feet. “I may have had one too many vodkas.”
“How did you get home?” He can feel that anger from before boiling in his stomach, gaining a hold.
“Taxi,” she says, stumbling towards him.
“Taxi,” he repeats with venom. Does this Omega have a death wish? What the hell is Finn doing letting her get into a taxi when she’s off her head and all alone? And unblockered! Still fucking unblockered.
Her scent of wet nectar intensifies as she moves closer, lifting her gaze to find his. He glares at her, energy screams through his body and he holds himself back, channeling all of it through his eyes. It doesn’t stop her, she’s far too drunk to read the danger and she stumbles further, failing to spot her discarded shoes, and tripping to the floor. Instinctively, he ducks down, reaching out to catch her arm and a jolt of electricity strikes his palm as it connects with her soft skin. Immediately, his tension melts away, swamped, washed away by the new sensation of gripping her in his hand, of his fingers digging into her flesh, of the way her body goes limp, responding to his.
“Are you okay?” he asks her, his words heavy in his throat. He feels suddenly drunk himself, dizzy with the proximity of her.
She shakes her head. “No, no, I’m not.” She touches her fingers to her forehead. “Everything is spinning. I feel so whoozy.”
He groans, snatching his hand away and stepping over her to shut the door before scooping her up into his arms, trying not to inhale her scent, trying to ignore how warm her body feels, trying not to dwell on the way she snuggles against his chest, leaning her head sleepily on his shoulder, as if that is where it belongs.
But it’s impossible. Her hair tickles against his cheek and his hand engulfs her tiny waist. She fits so perfectly in his arms and he almost feels his pulse quicken, his heart beating more quickly. It has been such an age since he has held anyone and, even if it’s meaningless, his skin seems to come alive against hers.
He knows this house as well as his own. He spent most of his time here as a teenager, hanging out with Finn in his bedroom or the TV room. His dad used to pay them to do odd jobs for his business — mowing lawns, digging up weeds, hacking down foliage — and would reward them afterwards with a slap-up dinner and beer.
The stairs creak as he climbs them, and Amy moans.
“I feel so bad.”
“You need to drink some water.” He opens the door to her bedroom and knows instantly it’s where she nests during a heat. There’s the pungent, heady smell of old slick and her bed is piled high with soft pillows, blankets slung over the foot. He sniffs the air. No Alpha. It seems Finn was right and she’s had to endure some heats alone.
Switching on a lamp, he lays her out on the bed and she rolls onto her side clutching her stomach.
Her room is a cream colour. It’s not fashionable but warm and comforting and on the walls are photos of her friends and her family, and near the window a shelf rammed with trophies and rosettes. He’d forgotten about her love of riding, like every girl in the village and at school — all horse obsessed. Vaguely, he remembers being dragged to the stables by Finn and his dad one time to muck out. But there’s no memory of the horse itself or Amy ever riding. In his mind, she was always this shadow, lingering in corners and at doorways, a nuisance to be shooed away. Although distantly, his mind drags out the sound of her laugh. A girlish giggle that made her nose screw up. Even back then he thinks it was like a trophy. Making her laugh had always produced a sense of pride. He’d liked that sound.
He spots a glass on her bedside table and goes to the bathroom to fill it up, waiting until the water runs cold.
Amy’s sitting up when he walks back in, struggling to unbutton her top.
