Page 51 of Omega's Forbidden Heat
Finally, the car comes into sight. And he stumbles towards it, clutching her firmly to him, and she cries out as her leg jolts in the air. He unlocks the car and places her carefully across the back seat and jams the front seat as far forward as it will go. Then he climbs in with her, tugging the blanket and the other coat from the rucksack as he does. He yanks off his own wet coat, his jumper and his T-shirt. And carefully removes her helmet and her own wet layers of clothing. She mumbles something to him but he can’t make out the words and he can’t tell if it’s nonsense. When they are both dressed only in their underwear, he snuggles up against her and wraps them in the layers. She shivers violently and he holds her tighter, willing his own heat to find its way to her.
“It’s okay, Amy,” he says. “We’re going to get you warm.”
Her scent is not as strong as it usually is, there’s something weak and feeble about it, and it’s intermingled with the smells of the forest, mud and leaves and country. He nuzzles her neck and she stirs. “Jack,” she mutters.
“Yes,” he whispers, “I’m here.”
Shifting slightly so as not to knock her ankle, he scoops his hand about in his pockets until he finds his mobile phone and then he dials Finn.
“Jack!” Finn snaps down the phone on the first ring.
“I’ve got her. It’s okay, mate. I got her.”
There’s a long whistle down the other end. “Is she all right?”
“We need to get her to hospital—”
“Drive there now. I’ll meet you.”
“No, Finn. I think she’s on the verge of hypothermia. I’m trying to warm her up, I can’t drive too. You need to get an ambulance here. I’m at the West Wood Car Park; the one by foot of the Down.”
“Hypothermia? Shit! I’ll call an ambulance and I’m on my way.”
“Thanks mate.”
He chucks the mobile phone back down on the floor, and looks for the water and the chocolate, cursing himself for not bringing a hot drink with him. His fingers brush against the plastic bottle for several seconds as it spins, refusing to move before eventually rolling into his hand. He unscrews the top with his teeth, his left arm trapped beneath the Omega, and tilts her upwards. She groans.
“Let’s drink a little, sweetheart.”
Her body still shudders violently and she feels cold despite his warm skin against hers. With clear effort, she opens her mouth and he tips the water onto her lips, most of it running down her chin. He swipes it away with his thumb.
“Come on, Amy,” he says with desperation. “Stay with me.”
“Hmmm,” she murmurs. And he pulls her into him. Her flesh is like ice on his body, so different from before. Then he’d held her in his arms like this too, like a little doll to maneuver and play with as he wanted, but her skin had been like fire, red and blazing, and her eyes had been bright and dancing. Now she is limp and dull, her eyes like hazy skies. He rubs his hands up and down the outsides of her arms, and their skin brushing together makes the sound of sandpaper against wood, creating friction he hopes will warm her. In the dull single light of the car, her lips are a sinister blue colour and her hands a temperature that stings against his flesh.
He can’t lose her. He can’t lose her.
He can’t lose his Omega. The girl he loves.
He jolts, his gaze falling down to her face.
Love. Of course, he’s known it for a long while, like a half-formed thought at the back of his mind that he’s never given word to. But he’s loved her. Perhaps for as long as he can remember. The beautiful girl with a smile like sunshine, the Omega that smells like summer fruit, the woman who has fought to be his. No matter what he’s done in the past, no matter what he is.
His father’s words come fluttering into his head.It is better to face the truth.
He needs to tell her. He needs to admit the truth, so he leans his mouth to her ear and whispers the words to her, unsure if she even hears him, rubbing his hands up and down her body.
And gradually, gradually he feels the heat of his own body creep into hers, and the lovely cream colour of her skin returns.
* * *
Five years ago
The school gymnasium is sticky and hot. It stinks of teenage sweat, cheap alcohol someone has smuggled in and too much perfume and aftershave. The fumes are making his headache and when the DJ switches the track to something slower; he decides he needs some air. He’s already had four different girls ask him to dance and Jemma Matthews and Mia Low rub themselves against him on the dancefloor.
He walks along the empty corridor. Being at a school in the evening, when it’s dark and sleeping, always gives him the creeps. It reminds him of haunted asylums he’s seen in horror movies. He supposes that is apt. School feels like a horror show sometimes, what with the teachers forever on his case, and the other boys to impress. And then there are the girls too. He’s aware it’s them he’s hurrying away from as he paces this corridor and slips out the door into the cool night air.
He takes a deep inhale. It smells like midsummer out here, like summer fruit. He tips his head and peers up at the sky. The night is clear and a scattering of bright stars peer back at him.
