Page 1 of Heat & Deceit
One
NOVA
3 YEARS AGO
My whole life, I’ve looked forward to my heat. Ever since I was old enough to learn about them and what they mean to an omega—rutting, knots, claiming, an unbreakable bond, maybe babies—I’ve dreamed of what my first heat would be like. I imagined love and care. I imagined fierce kisses, whispered promises. Most of all, I imagined what it would feel like to finally belong. So much of my time was spent longing for my pack assignment.
I wake from my second heat with my assigned pack... Alone. The small basement room is dark. The air smells like my alphas. They were here. The evidence is still sticky between my legs. My body is sore. I take a tiny breath, sending up a prayer as I lift my hand and flutter my fingers over my shoulder. Nothing.
That’s okay. Maybe they marked me somewhere else.
They’d gotten so caught up in their ruts during my first heat, we didn’t get to the claiming part. I slip out of the bed and rush to the bathroom, flicking on the light. My eyes snap to the mirror, and I jolt. Bruises litter my skin. My hair is a mess, almost like someone pulled it so hard, the strands are now stuck that way in remembrance. My breasts are littered with purple and black marks. I chew on my cheek as I take it all in, ignoring my response to those marks in search of the only mark I care about.
Spinning, I check my back. I lift my hair to search my neck. I turn again, lifting my breasts, feeling nothing. Seeing nothing. I do another full inspection, taking a step closer to the mirror. Nothing. Aside from the bruises, there are no marks on my skin.
That can’t be right.
I check again. Again. Again. The sixth time, as I finish a spin, the light in my eyes fades and disappointment sinks into my skin. Confusion settles into my bones. Hurt nestles into my marrow.
They know how much being claimed means to me. They know I want the bond. We talked about it after my first heat. Even with the madness of their rutting, they should want to claim me. The most primal urge of an alpha is to mark what belongs to him. The Compatibility Ceremony, the fancy soiree that decided my fate, was six months ago. The Omega Council determined these alphas were the pack for me, but I don’t really belong to them until they consummate the bond.
With a notch between my eyebrows, I return to the nest and grab one of the shirts the alphas left behind. My clothes are shredded. The scent that wraps around me should settle me, should feel like a warm hug, but without the bond, it’s like a slap across the face. I can almost feel the sharp sting of a palm on my cheek.
Something clatters upstairs and obnoxious laughter follows. The alphas. I swallow and head upstairs, my shaking hand gripping the railing as I ascend. My heart rate spikes with each step, not because of the stairs, but because I’m going to confront them. I’ve never been shy about speaking my mind...but this is different. Leaving me to wake alone after my heat was cruel. It’s confusing. It’s...not normal. All I learned in the years leading up to the Compatibility Ceremony was how much the alphas I’d be assigned to would want to take care of me.
So far, their treatment has bordered on callous, but I’ve tried to be patient with them. This is a new dynamic for all of us, and with time, we’ll learn to love each other. That’s the only way packs survive.
I slip out of the basement unnoticed. The alphas are sitting around the kitchen table. They’re all so handsome in that gruff, bad boy sort of way, and my heart flutters at the sight of them. The dim light overhead casts a dull yellow glow over their worn cards and poker chips. I clear my throat and step toward them.
They don’t look up.
They don’t say hello.
They don’t notice me.
“Hi,” I say, edging closer.
Nothing.
My chest tightens.Notice me, I beg inside my head.
“I raise you,” Jimmy says, tossing a stack of chips into the pot.
Ricky scoffs and runs his hands over his scruff. “Bullshit.” His chips clatter on top of Jimmy’s.
“Let’s see what you got, Jimmy,” Mikey says, pushing strands of his brown hair off his forehead.
I take another tentative step toward them, inadvertently blocking some of the light.
“Can we talk?” My voice comes out meeker than I anticipated, but I stand steady, waiting for their reply.
“Must we?” Mikey asks.
Ricky snickers.
“I, uh, I noticed you didn’t claim me,” I begin, voice a little shaky. “Why?”
Almost as one, they raise their eyebrows and trade looks. Ricky laughs first. Mikey follows. That mocking sound pierces through me, obliterating a part of my heart. The piece of me that was excited to be bonded with these alphas wilts.
