“Jesus Christ. Stop asking so many embarrassing questions.”
“How is it embarrassing? It’s just part of our biology, dude. You know, now that I think about it, it’s probably a phantom heat. I get them from time to time, especially if we’ve been working late and I haven’t seen Julian for a couple of days.”
“Well, phantom heat or not, it just needs to end so I can get on with my life.”
Matteus shook his head and squeezed Oliver’s hand. “You’re allowed to feel desire, Ollie. You know that, right? Being a sigma doesn’t mean you won’t find happiness.”
Oliver sighed and squeezed back. “You sound like mum.”
Matteus’ phone buzzed again. “It’s Julian. He’s got the stuff. I’ll be right back.”
In the end, Oliver had to practically shoo Matteus out of the flat, because he genuinely would have stayed all night if he let him. Instead, he curled up in bed with a bag of frozen peas, Roger the koala, and another cup of hot chocolate. He chose the least sexy thing he could find on TV—the 1960s rendition of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, although the child snatcher was looking pretty fucking appealing—and tried to push all thoughts of the sexy mafia boss out of his mind.
THREE
LOFT EXTRACTIONS
The night was long and full of terrors. Well, full of hot sweats and uncomfortably realistic dreams, at least. It was 4:00am and the only two souls awake were Oliver, and a rather chatty pigeon that had taken up residence outside his bedroom window. He let out a long groan, scrubbing his hands over his face. The suppressants had finally kicked in during the early hours of the morning, the medication cooling the inferno in his gut to a dull ache.
However, all the suppressants in the world couldn’t numb the terrible anxiety the episode had caused. His body betrayed him, and that was terrifying.
Staring up at the ceiling, his eyes followed the swirling design of the plaster art. As much as he wanted to keep Helena Cartwright safe, another part of him hoped she would refuse to speak, and Lucas White could go back to catching drug smugglers far away from the sleepy town of West Newton.
The pipes clanged behind the wall as he turned on the shower for the second time that night. The cold water was no longer a relief to his burning skin, which was probably a good sign, as it meant his body temperature had returned to normal.
Sliding a fluffy robe over his shoulders, he padded to the kitchen. The halogen bulb flickered as he pressed the switch, the yellow light stinging his sleep deprived eyes. He felt like he’d been living in a cave for ten years, which was the usual conclusion to his annual heat cycle.
As he waited for his toast to pop up, he pulled out his laptop—which was a mistake because the first thing he saw was an email from Lucas. Slapping the lid back down, he decided instead to tidy the kitchen whilst waiting for the dark roast coffee to brew. The only upside of his hormone induced torture was that his apartment had never been cleaner.
Sitting back down with toast in hand, he let out a long breath. And then another.Just check the fucking email.With any luck, Lucas would be cancelling the meeting and pissing off back to the city.
Well, that in itself was wishful thinking because the email read:
DC Reed,
I shall meet you in the car park at 08:10hrs. Bring portable recording equipment.
Kind regards,
DS White
Metropolitan Police
Two sentences. That was all. The email had been sent at 3:10am. Was the alpha having trouble sleeping, too?Oliver—being a sterling detective—checked the shared messaging system to see when he had last been online. His eyes widened in horror when he saw a little green icon next to Lucas’ name. Then there was a little green icon next to his own name. Two little green icons amidst a sea of grey icons.Shitting fuck,he was an idiot.
A message suddenly pinged across his screen.
‘Read that paperwork yet?’
Oliver jumped up from the table, almost sending his coffee and toast flying into another dimension. He thought about shutting down the laptop and throwing it out the window, but Lucas would see that he had already read the message. Instead, he decided to act like a grown fucking adult, and replied to the message with all the sincerity it deserved.
‘No.’
And that was that. Feeling pleased with himself, he cracked his knuckles and prepared to shut down the computer.
‘I’ve just emailed it to you. Could you take a look with me?’
Cocks. Flying fucking cocks.Glancing at the time, he was very distressed to find that it was only 4:45am. He wished he’d stayed in bed and avoided the whole thing.
