Page 95 of Claimed By the Rockstars: Part One
Rafael's given up pacing and just sprawls on the bed—there's only one, because of course there is—staring at the ceiling. I'm doing the same on the other one. Both of us are still fully clothed because stripping down feels too vulnerable right now, too close to admitting what we want.
"When was the last time you felt like this?" Rafael asks suddenly.
"Like what?"
"Like if you don't do something, you're going to crawl out of your skin."
I think about Nash. About those nights when he'd slip into my room, when his scent would wrap around me and I'd know exactly what he needed without words. How different that was from this—familiar versus unknown, alpha versus omega, chosen versus destined.
"Nash," I say quietly. "But it wasn't the same. We weren't... compatible. Not like this."
"You loved him though. Always knew you did."
"Yeah." My throat tightens. "I did."
Rafael's quiet for a long moment. Then he mutters, "I've never felt this way about anyone. Male, female, doesn't matter. This is—fuck, Phoenix, what are we supposed to do with this?"
"I don't know. He's in heat because some psycho stalker drugged him. Not exactly the foundation for a healthy relationship."
"No," Rafael agrees. "But the scent match is real. You can't fake that."
Another sound from the other room. Not quite a whimper, but close. Both of us go rigid, every muscle tensed like we're about to spring into action.
The adjoining door opens.
Bells stands there, and he looks absolutely wrecked. His white hair is a charming disaster, sticking up at all angles. Everything about him screams omega in heat. Flushed skin, dilated pupils, the kind of desperation that makes my chest twist up in a fucking pretzel.
"I need..." Bells starts, then stops. Swallows. Tries again. "I decided not to take an emergency suppressant. They can be dangerous mixed with… whatever the fuck was in the drinks. I need to let this shit run its course and purge the drugs out of my system. In a normal heat, I'd be in my right mind, but this one? I have no idea what's going to happen here." He braces a hand against the doorframe, taking a deep breath. "So I need to set boundariesnow, while I can still think straight."
Rafael sits up slowly. "Okay. That's... a good idea. How can we help?"
"You can't." But Bells doesn't move from the doorway. Just stands there, swaying slightly, arms wrapped around himself. "I just wanted you to know. So you understand why it's going to get worse before it gets better."
"How much worse?" I ask carefully.
"Full heat. The kind that..." Bells trails off, looking away. "The kind that usually requires a partner. But I can handle it. I've done it before."
The thought of Bells suffering through a full heat alone makes something violent clench in my gut. But I keep my voice calm, gentle. "You don't have to handle it alone if you don't want to. If you need?—"
"You can't give me what I need." Bells laughs, but there's no humor in it.
"Which is what?" Rafael asks, and I could kill him for pushing.
But Bells meets his eyes steadily. "You two going in the other room and jerking each other off or whatever the fuck else alphas do to take the edge off when an omega is in heat in the next room," he says flatly, stunning me into total silence. His hand goes to his neck, fingers pressing against the leather collar he never removes. "The thing is... This isn't a normal heat. I don't know if I'll want it because I actually want you, or because my body is begging for any alpha to make the pain stop. And part of me—the part that's terrified of how bad this is going to hurt without a knot—that part wants you to say yes if I beg for it."
I swallow the growing lump in my throat at the desperation and fear in Bells's eyes, but I wait for him to continue.
Bells takes a deep breath. "The part of me that's stillmeneeds to know you won't. Not until I'm clear-headed enough to know what I want versus what the heat wants. Not until this shit is out of my system."
"We wouldn't," I say immediately. "I promise."
"What if I wanted to?" Bells challenges. "What if the pain gets bad enough that I'm begging for it? Sobbing? Climbing you like trees? Would you still say no?"
"Yes," Rafael and I say simultaneously.
"When you're ready—ifyou're ready," I say, "it'll be your choice. Not the drugs'.Yours."
"Good," Bells mutters. "That's... good. Because I'm going to be really fucking pathetic in about six hours."
