Page 45 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
This would be so much easier if those damn suppressants did their job. I don’t want to be beholden to my body and instincts, with the looming specter of heats and touch starvation forcing my hand.
How can I know if being a part of this pack is really what I want like this?
How can they know they really want me?
After all, I hurt them. I made terrible assumptions and cut them out of my life. If I were in their shoes, I don’t know if I’d be able to forgive so easily. Are they doing this only because they know I need them? Or because their own instincts are telling them to take care of me?
The bedroom becomes claustrophobic as my worries press in on me. My dress and underwear are nowhere to be found, and I doubt that they’re in a state for me to wear again anyway, so I grab one of Ambrose’s shirts from the foot of the bed and slip it on. His scent envelops me and takes some ofthe edge off of my stress, but at the same time, it agitates me more knowing how easily I’m influenced by my omega’s instincts.
After spending a lifetime without these kinds of reactions, it feels like I’m being hijacked. Even if the reaction makes me feel better. Even if every cell in my body wants to climb back in the bed with the alphas and stop worrying.
What’s instinct, and what’s real?
I tiptoe out of the bedroom, not allowing myself to look back for fear of caving to the tug in my stomach begging me to go back to them.
I only make it to the base of the stairs before I’m caught by a tiny dog with ridiculously good hearing. She barks from down the hall, alerting the humming beta in the kitchen and ruining any chance I have at sneaking away.
Jackson appears in the hallway with Dolly in his arms and an apron covering his bare chest, his mouth splitting into a brilliant smile when he sees me.
“What are you doing up?” he asks, moving to my side to kiss my cheek.
I stiffen at the question, then curse myself as his smile falls.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…” Shit, I’m not good at lying. A pit opens up in my stomach as I grasp for any excuse other than that I’m freaking out and wanted to run away.
“Ah.” Jackson nods, like I confessed everything with a single word. He shifts Dolly onto one arm, holding her like a football, and reaches out to take my hand. “Come on, I’m making breakfast. Let’s get some food and coffee into you before we try to tackle that ‘nothing’.”
I let him lead me into the kitchen, guilt thrumming through me, but he squeezes my hand and smiles.
“You feel up to cutting some strawberries?” Jacksoninclines his head toward the colander full of them by the sink. “Or should I not give you a knife right now?”
His joke disarms some of my guilt, and I snort. “Don’t worry, this isn’t a stabbing kind of ‘nothing.’”
He shrugs and places a cutting board and knife on the island. “I wouldn’t blame you. River acted pretty damn stabbable. Might teach him a lesson for running out on his pack.”
My chest tightens at his reference to what River did.
Jackson sighs melodramatically at my grimace. “You’re right. Stabbing isn’t the right punishment. The dude is covered in tattoos and he’s a kinky freak, so he’d probably like that.”
A laugh bursts out of me, and Jackson winks, then goes over to the coffee pot to pour me a cup. He goes to the fridge and gets out hazelnut oatmilk creamer, pouring in the perfect amount like he’s made me morning coffee for years rather than the one time he saw me make it when he stayed at my place.
My eyes burn, and I look away, focusing on the strawberries and willing myself not to cry at how much he cares. The memory of the look he gave me last night swells inside me as he sets the mug on the island and steps in behind me, placing a hand on my hip and pressing his chest to my back.
“It’s okay to be scared,” he murmurs. “It’s okay not to know what you want to do yet.”
The tears spill down my cheek as he rests his chin on my shoulder and I set the knife down. “I know what I want to do, but how do I know that’s not just my omega talking?” I whisper.
He sighs and guides me to turn around and look at him. I expect to see disappointment or pain on his face, but the sheer affection and acceptance in his eyes knocks the breath out of me. “Cami, you and your omega are the same person. There’s no way to know because there’s no way to separate the two.”
“I hate it.” My voice sounds fragile and bitter. “I hate notknowing if I’m making the wrong choice because my instincts want me to have a pack…”
Jackson cups my cheek, his touch warm and reassuring.
I fight back a sob. “Not knowing if you only want to be with me because of instinct and obligation.”
His brow furrows into deep lines. “You know how I feel. I’m not saying it because I don’t want to pressure you, but Cami, you fucking know. I’m a beta. It’s not instinct for me. It’s because you see me, and I see you.”
