Page 179 of Unmarked
He’s not wrong.
My body is a crime scene, and the murder weapon was definitely my own libido.
“Do I look like I regret it?” I ask, trying to muster some dignity.
He eyes me. “You look like you tried to out-stubborn four alphas and lost to your own endocrine system.”
“Rude,” I mutter, collapsing into his broad chest.
Ash just scoops me up and walks us back to the bed like he’s moving a very annoyed, very sweaty princess.
“Where’s the water?” I ask, because my mouth tastes like slick and shame.
He hands me a bottle from the nightstand without hesitation. Because of course Ash planned for this. He probably has snacks, electrolytes, and a post-orgasm debriefing kit stashed under the mattress.
I drink. I breathe.
I try not to dissolve into a puddle of regret and residual knot-throbbing.
“Thanks,” I whisper when my throat doesn’t feel like it’s been sandpapered by bad decisions. “Also sorry. For, you know. Melting into a puddle of hormonal soup.”
“You don’t apologize for melting,” Ash says calmly. “You hydrate, you regroup, and you admit that four-bonding yourself in one day might be a touch ambitious.”
I snort. “In hindsight, yeah. Not my finest logistical planning. I should’ve stuck to brunch.”
He doesn’t smile, not fully, but I see it - a twitch at the corner of his mouth. The quiet approval of someone who’s seen too much and still finds the comedy in catastrophe.
He settles beside me on the bed, solid and warm, radiating that slow, grounding calm that’s somehow more comforting than anything anyone’s said to me in days.
I stare at the ceiling. Let myself breathe.
And then, without warning, it slips out.
“Do you think the OMB knows?”
Ash stills. Not visibly, not obviously, but the shift is there. I feel it. The way his energy sharpens through the bond, like someone just cocked a loaded gun inside him.
“What?”
I hesitate. “I just… someone’s going to notice. I mean, an unregistered omega disguides as a beta disappears from a public gala, bonds four alphas, and shows up days later looking like she’s been through a very enthusiastic exorcism -”
He cuts me off, voice low. “Rhea.”
“I’m serious. This isn’t just about scent trails and fake IDs. This is the kind of thing the OMB salivates over. They could spin it as instability, as a security risk, as -”
“They won’t,” he says, voice steady, but I feel the tension behind it. “We’re monitoring chatter. Until they make a move, we don't react - there's no need. Beside, Lucian’s already scrubbed everything. You’re buried under enough encryption to hide a war crime. Lexi’s running distraction and told the rep at the gala that you had a panic attack and went off-grid for a mental health retreat. You’re off-grid, and if theydocome sniffing - they’ll have to get through me first.”
“Nice,” I mutter. “Nothing says ‘I’m not feral’ like a nervous breakdown in a cave full of horny alphas.”
He doesn't say anything, and my chest tightens - not with fear this time, but something else. Something warmer.
“You really think that’s enough?” I ask, quieter now.
He turns to face me, brows low.
“I think if you keep this all to yourself, if you bottle it up and try to outthink a system designed to control you, then they win. You survived without us. You fought on your own. But you’re not on your own anymore. We’re not letting them take you.” Ash’s lips twitch. “Try to let it be our problem now, not just yours.”
My throat tightens. “I didn’t think I was scared,” I murmur.
