Page 54 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
I can’t go home now. I’d go back to the office, but everyone has left for the day.
The sensation of eyes on my back makes my skin crawl and my heart race, and I want to break out into a run to get away from him, but there’s no way I’d be able to outpace him with his much longer limbs.
In the past, I might’ve stopped on a dime and turned to confront him, but my omega won’t let me do that. She needs me to find somewhere to hide from this strange alpha before he barks and forces me to do what he wants. The street I’ve turned down is less crowded than the main one we were on, because that’s just my shitty luck.
When it seems like he’s so close I can feel his breath on my neck, and I catch the noxious odor of his burnt rubber scent, I make the snap decision to turn into the shop beside me. It doesn’t matter what kind of store, or restaurant, or office it is. The door is open and the lights are on, and surely this alpha won’t attack me in front of whoever is working inside.
The bell on the door clatters as it swings open and shut as I rush inside. A petite blond beta sitting at a checkout counter startles at the noise, but I rush toward them. “Please, I need your help. Someone is following me, and I don’t?—”
The bell on the door clatters, and my spine goes rigid, a whine of terror slipping from my lips.
The beta’s eyes go wide, and for a second I think they’re going to flee and leave me to my fate, but they smile at me. “Of course, ma’am. Our attendant will be out in a moment to start your fitting.” They turn to the hulking alpha looming in the entryway. “I’m sorry, we don’t accept walk-ins. You’ll need tocome back when you have an appointment,” they sigh in a haughty, cool tone.
They move out from behind the desk and put their body between me and the alpha, crossing their arms.
I’m trembling, terrified that I’ve endangered this poor beta because there’s no way they’ll be able to stop him if the alpha decides to ignore them.
Whatever humanity or shred of sanity the alpha has left inside him makes him blanch at the beta’s words. He mumbles something unintelligible about being in the wrong store, and leaves.
A sob of relief bursts out of me, and the beta walks over to lock the door behind him. I swipe away my tears and give them an apologetic frown. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I shouldn’t have?—”
The beta holds a hand up. “Yes, you should have. Don’t apologize.” They peer out the front door, grimacing. “He’s still out there. I’ll call the cops.”
My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “N-no, that’s okay.” If the cops get called, there’s no doubt that it’ll end up on the main page of that awful alpha news website. Some bullshit about how I’m hysterical and making things up about innocent alphas because there’s no way to prove that alpha was following me or had ill intent.
The shop attendant’s brow furrows. “Do you have anyone else you can call? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need, but we were about to close for the day, so I’m the only other person here, and I don’t know if I can handle that alpha on my own…”
Jackson’s words from the other day at the ice cream parlor immediately pop into my mind.
“I’m so sorry. Yes, I’ll call them.”
My stomach sinks and fear starts to rise again as myattempts to call Ambrose and Jackson both go to voicemail. Shit, they’re both working. They can’t come right now.
My fingers tremble as I press the call button for the third time.
“Camille?” River answers after the second ring.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, voice wavering as relieved tears fill my eyes. “I know you’re probably working, but I need…I’m scared and?—”
“Where are you?” he asks, voice rough.
“I don’t even really know,” I whisper as tears run down my cheeks. I glance around with blurry eyes and realize that I’m in a lingerie shop. A very high-end one that looks like somewhere Maya’s rich alpha dates would take her. “A fancy lingerie boutique a few blocks from my place.”
“I’m on my way.”
23
My heart slamsagainst my ribcage as I pull into the first spot on the street I see, ignoring the electronic meter I’m meant to use to pay for using it. I take off at a sprint toward the shop my phone says is a few blocks away. I must look insane running down the city sidewalk in full business attire like someone is chasing me with a knife, dodging and weaving between people and narrowly avoiding crashing into a beta with an overloaded bag of takeout.
Who the fuck cares?
I need to get to her.
I was mid-meeting with the rest of my team when she called—our regular Friday sync that I swear my boss put there to torture people and force us not to leave early for the weekend. When I saw Camille’s name light up my phone screen, I didn’t think about the consequences of abruptly shutting off my camera and muting myself, nor those of leaving with nothing more than a brief message in the chat to say I had an emergency and had to go.
With my luck,they’ll fire me.
But again, who the fuck cares?
