Page 31 of Gold Rush
My stomach drops out of my body, nausea gripping me as Arin pushes away from the desk.
He rests a hand on my shoulder, turning his head. With the movement, his mint scent fills my senses, scorching the honey from my brain as he mutters, “But there is still time to fix this, if you’ll let yourself. Don’t fall prey to the same cycle you’ve spent your entire life outrunning.”
Arin walks around me, leaving me in the office alone as my eyes fall to the blankets on the couch. I walk over to them in a daze, picking up the one that normally lays on the back and folding it mechanically, filling my nose with the smell of honey and mint with each wave through the air. The second blanket smells the same as the first, with a hint of fudge, and I bring it to my nose, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply.
It’s the second time I’ve found her scent lingering on fabric — the laundry room has been saturated in it for two days, but I dutifully washed every single piece of clothing Seth brought down. I don’t have business this time in London — just Arin — but we all travel here to the townhouse when he does. We function as a pack — but now I’m terrified it’s going to fracture in my very hands.
Her perfume smells like our pack house in Rochester, like early mornings when the dew covers the grass and I can open the doors from the living room out to the pool deck. It smells like Bennett cooking breakfast for all of us, Seth lingering in the doorway and making fun of me, calling out random numbers instead of actually counting my laps in the pool. It smells like Arin pushing a mug into my hands, telling me to get out before I catch a cold from the crisp air. It’s the smell of all of us sitting in the living room, laughing over bad movies.
It’s the smell of my mother and I hiding in the back bedroom of my childhood home, watching old British murder mysteries. The only times I could see the true vibrancy of her personality was when my fathers weren’t there.
When I emerged as an alpha, Peter and George had looked at her and said, “As useless to us that you are now, at least you gave us an alpha. We’ll make sure he knows his place.”
And I’d sworn from that point that I’d never bond an omega — because growing up to be likethemis a fate worse than death.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JUNE
I wokeup this morning in my own bed — well notmine—the guest bed.
After the disaster in the kitchen yesterday morning, I tried to beg off, to pack, or at least isolate myself, but Seth coaxed me into sitting with him and Bennett to solve a puzzle, then watch TV. It was very reminiscent of the first night here — with absolutely no one else around. When it was appropriately late enough, I dragged myself upstairs and Seth left me with a kiss on my forehead.
It’s been quiet this morning.
Bennett offered to make me an omelette and Seth suggested going out again, but I can’t fathom it. My stomach keeps twisting into knots, shooting pain radiating through my lower half. Some of the pamphlets the center sent with me said there are small moments of symptom spikes before heats set in.
The worst feeling is howhornyI am.
I feel like I could grab the nearest person and sink my teeth into them.
As I stare at the bookshelves in the living room, my phone vibrates. Pulling away from a murder mystery, I fish it out,glancing down at Janet’s name in shock before answering it immediately.
“I know I said I wouldn’t call.” Janet clears her throat. “But I got confirmation from the publisher your tour dates are postponed until we can navigate this.”
My heart tugs as I stare at the books, wrapping an arm around my torso. “Okay, that’s probably for the best.”
“I… don’t think it’s wise for us to make another statement to the press, but I wanted you to be aware that there have beena lotof calls. It’s kind of out of my wheelhouse, June.” Janet sounds a little tired. “I’m only here to represent your books, but a lot of these people have an interest inyounow. I can put you in contact with one of my friends in LA who’s a publicist. I’m not sure what the publishing house wants, but it might be worthwhile for you to speak, or talk about what’s happening when you’re ready. It would certainly keep your books selling— as it is right now, they’re flying off the shelves and they’ve sold out online. We’re rushing another printing so the shelves aren’t empty for too long.”
“What?” I freeze, shock rocketing through me. After a moment, it clicks that people are probablyveryinterested in a once-beta author, now suddenly an omega who cancelled her entire tour and was photographed leaving a designation center with two men.
I’d eat that shit up if I was home on the couch with a pint of ice cream.
“A publicist could at least help you navigate the future and coordinate some of the larger scale interviews. You were going to need one before the movie goes forward —”
Janet’s words continue, but I’m not listening as the smell of rich fudge, dense and chocolatey, enters the room. I turn, my mouth watering as Seth walks in, his hands in his pockets. The closer he gets, the more the smells mix, layers of chocolatecoated over orange, like Christmas treats and candy. He stops partially behind me, pulling a hand out of his pocket to touch my back.
“June?”
I shake my head, swallowing thickly as I mutter to Janet on the phone, “I’ll consider it. Thank you for letting me know.”
“Of course.” She pauses. “And I hope you’re okay. I really do. I can’t imagine the stress.”
My skin heats as Seth’s fingers slide up. I swear I can feel them scorching me through the fabric of my sweatshirt, burning straight through to my skin, making my mind go blank as they dip down. The pads of his fingers snake under the hem of it, skin against skin as they press against the small of my back. I want him to take the phone from my hand and throw it onto the ground. I want him to grab me by the hips and bend me over. I want his hands in my hair and his tongue buried in my cunt —
“We should meet when you’re back in the states.”
“O-Okay.” I get caught on the word, turning my head sharply to look at Seth as my mind goes fuzzy around the edges. I manage to end the call without making an idiot of myself, my hands shaking as he gives me a shit-eating grin.
