Page 90 of Claimed By the Rockstars: Part One
The cool night air hits my face like a slap. I gulp it down, trying to clear my head, but it doesn't help.Nothinghelps. The heat is building, demanding, making me want things I absolutely cannot have right now.
"Bells." Rafael's voice is urgent, his eyes scanning my face. "Talk to me. What's happening?"
"Drugged," I gasp out. "Someone drugged my drink. I'm—I can't?—"
I don't finish the sentence. Don't need to. Because my scent must be bleeding through my suppressants now, even in the rain. Rafael's eyes go wide as comprehension dawns, and I watch him piece together what's happening in real time.
"You're… anomega," he breathes.
Not a question. A statement of fact that I'm too far gone to deny.
"Get Phoenix," I manage. "Please. I need?—"
The entrance door slams open and Phoenix emerges, his expression already worried. He must have gotten a text from Rafael. "Bells, what?—"
He stops mid-sentence.
His pupils dilate so fast it's visible even in the dim lighting. His chest expands with a deep inhale, and I watch his entire body go rigid.
Ohfuck.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
RAFAEL
The scent hits me like a freight train made of honey and spice.
Not the faint traces I'd been catching over the past weeks, the ones I'd written off as residual omega from hookups or maybe just my imagination playing tricks on me.
This isreal.
This is undeniable.
This is vanilla and cinnamon concentrated into something so potent it bypasses my brain entirely and goes straight to my hindbrain.
Every alpha instinct I possess roars to life at once.
Phoenix has gone completely still beside me, his massive chest expanding with another deep breath like he's drowning and Bells's scent is oxygen. His pupils are blown so wide his blue eyes look almost black in the streetlight.
"Please." Bells's voice cracks on the word, and the sound of it—desperate, afraid,vulnerable—makes something protective and possessive surge through my chest. "You can't tell anyone.Please."
My hand is still on his elbow from when I guided him outside, and I can feel him shaking through the fabric of his white button-up. Not the violent tremors of someone losing control, but fine tremors like he's fighting with everything he has to hold himself together.
"Okay," Phoenix says immediately, his voice rough. "Okay, we won't. But Bells, you need?—"
"A hotel." Bells cuts him off, his eyes wide and pleading. "Just take me to a hotel. I can handle this if you just—fuck.Please."
The scent is getting stronger. My mouth waters involuntarily, and I have to actively fight the urge to lean in closer, to bury my face in the crook of his neck and justbreathe.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I've never—never—been attracted to men. Not once in my entire life. The occasional acknowledgment that a guy was objectively good-looking, sure, but attraction? Desire? The kind that makes my cock press uncomfortably against my slacks and my fingers itch to touch?
Never.
Until right fucking now.
