Page 73 of Secret Heart
“Yeah, she does,” I tell him.
“All right. I’ll be there in ten.”
Caleb hangs up. I cross the house at just shy of a jog, pulling an ice pack from the freezer and then setting Emily on one of the island’s stools. I press the cold pack against her chest, and she shivers harder. Then I wrap my arms around her tighter than before, letting the muscle memory of all those months of her struggling after Penny was born take over.
“You’re safe,” I murmur.
Then I slowly run her through a grounding technique, keeping my body pressed tight to hers until her shuddering stops. The ice pack is freezing against my skin, but it’s not the first time we’ve had to do this, so I don’t flinch. Finally—finally—she presses her palms to the small of my back and sucks in a longer, less forced gulp of air.
“Go to Triston,” I whispers against her hair. “I’ve got Penny, and so does the rest of the family. Just like we have Camden when Brielle goes into heat.”
Right on cue, there’s three knocks on the front door. Emily drops her hands and leaves the ice pack on the counter, then disappears into our bedroom. By the time she returns, I have the door open and Caleb’s leaning against the threshold, looking as tired and worn out as I feel.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
He’s quick to wave me off.
“Don’t. You know you’ve helped us out with Brielle’s heats. They aren’t always convenient, especially if someone’s forcibly triggering them.”
Then he focuses on Emily and her suitcase. She clutches Triston’s pillow to her stomach. Her scent pulses again, and Caleb’s lips flatten.
“Yeah, I know,” he says, responding to whatever is lacing her scent right now. “Let’s get you to him. Two hours, and you can help him.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
TRISTON
My head throbs, and my throat is dry as the desert. I swallow convulsively, trying to ease the burn, but that only makes it worse. My scent surrounds me, thick enough it’s overwhelming. I carefully feel the space around me, trying to reconcile the last memories I have of Tyler’s terrifying growl and grip with the soft, dark place I am now.
A wave of need pulses through me, centering between my hips. I groan and turn my head, burying my face into the pillows surrounding me.
He’d given me a trigger shot, hadn’t he?
That would explain the growing need to be surrounded by vanilla, be held and knotted and locked. Just the thought has my skin tightening. I press my hips into the soft bed beneath me. The friction is enough to have the haze receding a fraction. I run my hand over the sheet beneath me. It’s soft but not like the way my nest feels. The pillows are comfortable but not quite right. A blanket covers my feet. It’s just off enough to have my skin itching.
Why am I somewhere other than my own nest? The one I’ve spent the last two weeks building and marking until it feels safe and precious andmine. Tears burn my eyes, but I squeeze them tighter. Crying when my head is pounding will just make me more uncomfortable.
The latch of a door rings through the room, louder than a gunshot. I can’t help but flinch, twisting into myself, pulling my knees into my chest. Another pulse of heat burns in me, scalding my skin. I can’t help but whimper. The throbbing in my head gets faster, centering behind my eyes. I want to claw them out, want to bury myself until the throbbing fades enough I can fall back asleep.
“Triston?” It’s a deep voice that I don’t recognize.
A desperate whine is all I manage.
A whisper of a touch skates down my neck and spine, soft enough I want to lean into it. My scent explodes around me, drowning me. A soft lavender mixes with it. The ball of heat burns hotter, spreading into my legs and up into my chest, stealing my breath. The pounding in my head gets worse. In the span of a few heartbeats, it morphs, filling my ears until it feels like I’m underwater.
“Triston,” the person says again, even softer than before. “Do you know where you are?”
I shake my head, sending radiating pain into my jaw. I suck in a breath, and the hand on my neck flattens. A thumb caresses the sensitive spot beneath my ear. Clove lashes out, a siren’s call I can’t stop. The person grunts.
“You’re in a Haven,” they say. “You’ve gone into heat.”
The lavender grows stronger, blending with my own scent until it’s impossible to separate them. Despite everything, despite my desire for my vanilla, my body soothes.
Even still, all I can manage is to beg for the scent.Myscent.
My voice shakes.
“V-vanilla.”
