3

By the time I finished telling Adrian, tears were sliding down my face again.

He exhaled through his nose. “Jamie, find some dignity. He cheated on you. Don’t waste tears on him.”

His words were impatient, but his thumb was gentle when he wiped my cheek.

“Come on,” he said, softer now. “Don’t cry.”

I wasn’t crying because I wanted Mason back.

I was crying because my skin hurt, my thoughts kept slipping, and my body felt as if it had become a locked room with the heat turned too high.

My presentation had happened without warning. I had no omega suppressants yet.

I could have sworn Adrian kept alpha suppressants in his dresser, but maybe I remembered wrong. He was generous and had more money than he knew what to do with. He would not lie just to deny me medicine.

Would he?

My breathing quickened. I looked up through blurred vision.

“I’m not sad,” I managed. “Just—please mark me.”

Adrian did not move.

His eyes were dark, his jaw tight.

Desperation made me reckless. “If you won’t, I’ll ask someone else.”

His breath changed.

One second he was standing over me. The next, his hand was around my jaw and bitter orange flooded the room.

“Don’t say that.”

I tried to push him away, overwhelmed by the force of his scent. Adrian caught both my wrists, then immediately loosened his grip.

“Jamie. Look at me.”

I did.

The teasing was gone from his face.

“A temporary mark will calm the heat, but you may not remember everything clearly. If you tell me to stop, I stop. If you can’t answer me, I stop. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Say it.”

“I understand.” My voice shook. “I want you to help me. Please, Adrian.”

He searched my face one last time.

Then he drew me against him, one hand supporting the back of my neck.

“Don’t fight the scent,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

The last thing I remembered clearly was bitter orange wrapping around me, strong enough to quiet every frantic nerve.