Page 37 of Bullied Forced Omega
All of this is natural; it's normal, and if I stop fighting against it so much, it might even be fun.
But it’s also new to me, and I honestly don’t know how to handle it.
Late one afternoon, Avery knocks on my cottage door. She’s a good friend of mine who works in the same building as me as a coder. She also happens to be Jace’s cousin.
As soon as I open the door, she bursts through it and hugs me, then shoves a bottle of homemade lemonade into my hand.
I laugh, closing the door and carrying the lemonade into the kitchen, where Avery is already pulling glasses out and filling them with ice.
“You know my mom, the moment the weather gets a little warm, she makes seventeen thousand gallons of lemonade,” she grins.
“Well, your mom’s lemonade is welcome here anytime,” I say, pouring us each a glass.
“Where is that oversized cousin of mine?” she asks, looking around the cottage.
“I think he’s in the shower. I saw him come home a little while ago,” I say.
“What are you guys doing for dinner? Are you making something?” she asks, lifting herself onto the kitchen counter and swinging her legs back and forth.
I giggle and shake my head. “Is there ever a time when you visit me and you’re not hungry?” I tease.
“Oh, please, even if I’ve just eaten, and I come visit you, I’ll be hungry the moment I walk through the door. Don’t you understand that you always have the best home-cooked meals here?”
“You better not tell your mother that. She’ll never forgive you!” I tease.
“Shit, you’re right.Sorry, Mom, your lasagna is the best on the planet,”she says loudly, joking.
Walking over to the fridge, I mumble about the possibility of leftovers, such as mac and cheese or maybe some lamb stew, but when I tug the fridge open, the leftovers are gone.
“Damn, sorry, I forgot I had the pasta for lunch, and Jace must have had the stew.”
“Ugh, you live with a man-wolf now. You’re never ever going to have leftovers again. My life is ruined,” Avery complains dramatically.
I laugh again. She always has me laughing with her antics.
“Next time I make pasta, I’ll put some in a container for you and hide it at the back of the fridge,” I promise.
“No, next time you call me, as soon as it's ready, and no matter what time it is, I’ll come fetch it. Right away. You can’t trust Jace around food. Have you seen the size of that guy sincehe came back from training? He’s a monster,” she smirks. “He must eat four times the amount any other guy in this pack eats.”
“It’s true, those muscles need a lot of protein,” I chuckle.
I close the fridge door and huff, puckering my lips. “Ok, but we still need dinner. Let me grab my phone, and I can order us some takeout. Pizza or something. Give me a sec,” I say, leaving Avery alone in the kitchen to head into the bedroom. I left my phone there so I could work in peace this afternoon.
Being on heat has me three times as hungry as I normally am. They'd better bring those damn pizzas fast. Maybe I should drive into town and get something else? Burgers?
My thoughts scream to a dead stop as I skid to a halt in the doorway of the bedroom. Jace is standing shirtless in a pair of grey sweatpants, weights in his hands, headphones over his ears. Each rep he does ripples over his entire arm, across his shoulder, and down his chest. His stomach muscles glisten with sweat, and my body turns to jelly at the sight and scent of him. Salt, fresh sweat. Masculine, solid, pulsing form.
I gasp, choking on my thoughts as I take a hurried step backward, straight into the ceiling-high bookshelf in the hallway. I bump hard into it and yelp, ducking impulsively as it topples forward. I expect it to come crashing down on me, but instead I feel a solid arm pull me against a solid chest that smells like a drug I desperately need. Jace catches me and turns his back to the bookcase. He manages to stop the entire thing from shattering over the floor and me. I yelp again when I realize he took the whole weight of a massive, hardwood bookshelf filled with seriously heavy books.
“Jace,” I stammer in shock.
“Mari,” he stammers at the same time. “Are you ok? Did you get hurt?”
“Didyouget hurt?” I blurt out.
He leans back and pushes the bookshelf upright against the wall again. The few books that managed to spill out are splayed over the floor, but all in all, it was a very close call that he saved me from.
“I’m fine, it hardly weighs anything,” he says, his arms still around me. “Did you get hurt?” he asks, his voice low and husky.
