Page 70 of Traded

It’s done. That’s it.

But…he doesn’t stop.

Liam takes a breath.“You will not speak to anyone about this. Not Jonas, or Carter, or Lauren. You will not tell anyone inside or outside this pack about the bark.”

What?My throat tips back in a ragged gasp, the collar tightening.

I can’t stop him, trapped by his words as more of them settle over me, weaving into me, yanking me into obedience.

If you’re asked how you feel, you tell them you’re fine.

You’re adjusting.

You’re getting used to it.

You will do what I tell you, without complaint.

You will not do anything to alarm anybody within this pack.

You will not tell anybody that Lauren is a scent-match.

You will find me every morning, unless I say otherwise.

Hands stroke my skin, and it burns. “You’re doing so well, baby. Almost done. Let it settle.”

My sobs are silent, my body still.

All I can hear is the faint sound of my muffled breathing… and him.

When he’s done, we lay in silence. I stare at the ceiling, trying to find the pieces of myself scattered across this room.

I can’t find them.

Only him. There is only an alpha, and a bark. An omega, and an invisible collar.

“Fuck, that was intense.” Liam cradles my face. He swallows. “Talk to me, Ro. You okay?”

My eyes drag slowly to his. He winces. “Shit. Sorry. You can talk now. It’s done. How do you feel?”

You lied to me.

But the words don’t come.

“Fine,” I croak eventually. He lifts a finger to brush away the tears that still fall, touching his lips to them. I flinch away.

I feel… dirty. Sweat coats my skin, soaking the blankets between us. There’s a new layer sitting against my skin. I drag oxygen into my lungs, inhaling deeply, and choke.

“Steady,” he breathes into my neck. “It’s gonna be an adjustment. Let’s get you in the shower, yeah?”

My voice doesn’t sound like mine. “My… scent.”

The room is full of it. It burns my nose, makes my eyes water. Like burning plastic instead of cherry almonds.

“I know,” Liam says quietly. He looks at the door. “I already put some de-scenter in your shower. I want you to use it every day until that settles down. Make sure it’s thorough. Tell the others it helps you with the pack changes.”

I’m looking at a face that should be familiar. But I don’t recognize this alpha at all. “That was… thorough planning.”

The careful observation is as close as I can get to disapproval. My throat threatens to close up once more.