Page 53 of Heat Lightning

The leather of his gloves cooled my hot and sweaty palms. Tentatively, I squeezed back. “I didn’t get a choice in being brought into all of this. Maybe before, I would’ve made a different decision. Actually, I know I would’ve. But we can’t go back and change it. I’ve had two years to think. This is what I want.”

He nodded, grave and resolute. “Alright, sweetheart. When I know it can be done safely, we’ll kill him together. He’ll know exactly what he’s paying for.”

I stared. This man claimed he was only good for the darkness, and yet I’d never felt safer, more seen, than I did in that moment. “Together,” I echoed.

Something inside me slid into place, and I realized my mind was made up about everything else, too. I think it had been since he first broke in; maybe even since that fateful night two years ago.

I’d just needed time to know it was my decision, and not something I tumbled into all over again.

“We might as well, since we’re stuck with each other anyway,” I said with a wry chuckle. I’d meant it as a light jab; an acknowledgement and acceptance of the predicament we were both in.

But his gaze found the floor again instead of meeting my eye. “I really did try everything,” he said quietly. “Before bringing this to you.”

He’d said that before, and the way he kept phrasing it itched. “What do you mean? Like, you tried to end your rut with someone else first?”

He paused long enough for my heart to drop. “Yes.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and my eyes burned. “Oh.”

I stood and walked to the kitchen sink, looking for something to do with my hands lest he see the embarrassment written all over my face. The fact that I was so exposed and he could hide behind that knit mask was deeply unfair. Grabbing an empty glass, I filled it with water.

Okay. So. I was his last resort. So what? Why did that hurt so much?

Because he waited two years before settling, and it took me all of twenty-four hours. That’s why.

Was I really so undesirable he’d rather prolong his suffering and fuck other people first, just in case?

My omega yowled, teeth bared, when I pictured a line of faceless omegas, all gorgeous, edgy, dangerous, worldly, and better than me, waiting for their chance with the hot masked man.

Oh, God. He probably didn’t wear a mask with them. Why would he? There’d be no reason to hide his identity. He could be more open, more vulnerable.

They probably know his name.

For some reason, that hurt the worst. He’d chosen them, before resigning himself to the inexperienced burden of an omega he was forced to bond with.

“I didn’t want to drag someone like you into this unless I knew there was no other way,” he said like he was pleading for forgiveness. He’d come up behind me and laid a hand on my arm, trying to turn me around to face him.

I slammed the glass on the counter without drinking anything. “Jesus fucking Christ.” I spun the opposite direction and walked back into the living room, still refusing to look at him. “You don’t have to keep telling me that someone like me isn’t your type. Obviously, you’d try heats with other omegas before coming here. I get it, okay?”

“I didn’t mean⁠—”

I wiped at the tear that escaped. From the way his sentence ended in a choked sound, he noticed.

Hurt and embarrassment morphed, evolving into something sharp and ugly. “You aren’t my first choice either, you know.”

Silence. I knew I was overreacting. What I felt was merely a primal response to being rejected by a mate. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t chosen him, or that the bond was borne of artificial stimulants.

Rejection was rejection, and the idea that he’d preferred to knot someone else before settling with me forced more awful words from my mouth. “I wanted my first heat with a partner to be with an alpha I cared about. Someone who knew how to take care of me. I wanted it to mean something.”

“Max.”

I couldn’t stop. “And I got you, instead. What a fucking joke.”

“Max.”

The ache in his voice fueled me. Almost. He almost sounded as wounded as I felt. “Actually, we haven’t tried everything yet, have we?” I continued, tongue like a razor.

I did turn to look at him, then. I wanted to see it land. I wanted him to know what it felt like to be told you were second in line, or third, or fourth. The line of faceless omegas went on and on in my mind.