Page 9 of Scent of Sanctuary
She frowns, her brows knitting together. “How’s he gonna know which ones to choose?”
“Good point. Let’s call him.” I fish my phone from my pocket, my free hand steady on the couch so I don’t jostle her. I tap Ambrose’s name in and switch to video call, his face filling the screen, a cheeky smile playing on his lips as I sit up a little to hold the phone in front of us.
“There’s my sweet girl,” he muses. Seraphina twists around to meet his gaze, her attention darting around the aisle of pillows behind him.
She pouts, her lips pursing in that adorable way that makes my heart trip. “You didn’t take me with you,” she accuses, although there’s a hint of playfulness to her tone.
Confusion flickers through my expression and then I remember Ambrose always takes her on video dates. It’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen him do. He’ll call her up, walk through a mall or park, or beach, showing her everything like she’s right there beside him. He talks to her the whole time, pointing out dumb stuff like a tacky shirt or a seagull stealing fries. It’s his way of bringing the world to her since she won’t leave this place. I tease him about it sometimes, call him a sap, but he shuts me up quick when we get home, fucking me silly until I can’t think straight. Worth it every time.
Ambrose’s grin softens as he tilts his head, his silky hair following the movement. “Did you wanna see some of the pillows I picked out?” he asks. It’s always amusing watching this man soften for Seraphina in a way that he won’t do for anyone else. “I had no fucking idea there were so many options.”
He flips the camera, panning across a shelf stacked with pillows in every color and texture. Fluffy ones, smooth ones, some with tacky patterns. Seraphina huffs, a tiny, frustrated sound that’s so damn cute I almost laugh. “That’s not even the right color,” she growls, her fingers dropping from my buttons and fisting in her lap.
I watch as she carries on with Ambrose like she’s right there in the store with him. They’re going back and forth, Seraphina settling further into my lap the longer they talk. I’m not even sure if she’s aware of the way she thrives beneath our attention but I hope to make her see it sooner rather than later.
Ambrose keeps picking up pillows and blankets, running them by her as she nods her head with approval or shakes her head in disgust. When he picks up a pillow with too many frills or the wrong shade, she shakes her head frantically, growling at him through the phone. “No, Ambrose,” she scolds, her finger jabbing at the screen. “That’s too bright. I saidsilver, not gray.”
The Alpha just chuckles, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “Alright, sweet girl, silver it is.” He pans the phone across another shelf, stacked with pillows in muted tones that gradually morph into brighter ones. She mumbles something about orange, Ambrose making a beeline for the color. He snags one of the bigger ones, grinning like he just won the lottery. “This one is nice! But uh, is this, uh, sunburnt orange?” he asks, turning to a store employee nearby. The woman, a middle-aged Beta with a name tag pinned crooked, looks like she’s been caught in headlights staring when she wasn’t supposed to.
Ambrose’s face flushes red, the man sometimes forgetting how fucking gorgeous he is. Add in the piercings and tattoos and he’s the entire package. The woman offers him a genuine smile but the desire flicking up in her expression has Seraphina snarling in my lap. There’s no doubt in my mind that her instincts are driving this interaction but I love it.
The phone quickly flips back to Ambrose’s face as the employee starts apologizing. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.”
Ambrose blows a little kiss to the screen to calm Seraphina. “No, it’s fine. I’m picking out pillows for my Omega, but I’m shit at colors. She said sunburnt orange, grays, and blues. I got the two colors but I don’t know which of these is the right shade.”
Calling her his Omega has Seraphina wiggling in my lap, her scent spiking until it smells like spring in the living room.
“I, um, need the bathroom,” she mumbles, sliding off my lap. She nearly slips on the hardwood as she hurries away, her scent trailing her like a cloud. The moment the bathroom door clicks shut, I relax back against the couch, reaching down to relieve some of the pressure in my pants.
Ambrose’s voice pulls me back to the screen. “Is she okay?”
The employee is gone, a few more pillows in the cart as he leans against one of the shelves. I run a hand across the stubble of my chin, letting out a heavy sigh. “She has been for a while. Still jumpy, but she was purring for me. It’s so fucking hard not to touch her.”
He snorts, shifting a pillow under his arm. “Why do you think I volunteered to get pillows? I don’t envy you, man.”
“Her scent’s really strong. I’m drenched in it. I hope she lets us spend her heat with her. It’s gonna be a fucking honor.”
“Yeah, but we gotta figure out whatever’s in her apartment first. Call maintenance, make sure there’s no leak or some shit.”
“Callum already did,” I say, glancing at the mudroom door where they left. “I was instructed to just be her teddy bear.” I pause, my voice lowering so there’s no way Seraphina will hear it. “I’m gonna need you to fuck me when we get home, Jesus Christ.”
“Let me get this shit over there before I find you fucking your hand in the guest bathroom.”
Ambrose blows me a kiss before ending the call, my grin fading as my gaze trails over to the bathroom. I have a feeling that this day isn’t going to go how any of us want it to. I just hope she’ll let us help.
Seraphina
MyhandsshakeasI peel off my slick-soaked panties. They’re ruined, coated in the evidence of my pheromones going haywire. My wild berry scent fills the small space, overtaking the lavender descenter I sprayed earlier.
It’s never worn off this fast, not in the years I’ve been hiding in this apartment. I shove the panties into the trash, wrapping them in toilet paper like it’ll hide my shame.Like that will do anything.My heart is all but beating out of my chest, terror running through me at the idea that Lyle will attack me like that one Alpha did.
Rationally, I know he won’t. He’s only ever protected me, loved me, cared for me and yet, that spark of fear won’t let me ask for help in the way I so desperately need it.
My gaze falls on the woman in my reflection, my flushed cheeks and wide, glassy eyes telling me that fighting my heat is inevitable. The few breathing techniques I’ve learned over the years fall short of what I need, a cramp tearing through my stomach. A high-pitched whine tears from my throat as I collapse to my knees on the cold tile. Slick pours down my thighs, pooling beneath me as I start fumbling around for the cabinet handle to find my heat blockers.
Where are they? Fuck!
I curse myself for not being organized, fingers scrabbling through bottles and tampons, knocking over a can of shaving cream. I can’t remember where I put them, can’t think past the pain and the fear. The door swings open and I curl into myself, yelling, “Don’t hurt me!” My voice cracks with desperation, even as another cramp tears through me, tears streaming down my face.
