The Scent of Love

Chapter 17

Sharing heats with Sean is torture in the most exquisite way. There’s nothing Beth hates more than the rush of excitement she gets the week before— the rush that makes her binge clean her apartment and shave everything and eat healthier, and all the other cliché stuff she swore to herself she’d never do. 

The only thing that compares is the crippling depression that hits right after. She hates that, too. A lot. 

It’s been a year, she realizes one day. It’s coming up on her birthday, which was days after they hooked up for the first— well, second— time. And that first heat around the new year, and the second one barely six weeks after. It’s hard to tell when time is passing, considering the way Florida goes through exactly one and a half seasons throughout the year. 

Maybe that’s why she starts hanging out with so many people all the time. Being in her own apartment is too depressing, especially when it smells like s*x and Sean, and when she’s used to having him there, filling her space. It’s just… too much. 

Pam comes over pretty often, nowadays. A few of the girls from work. Josh. She has plenty of people to fill her time and her home with, to make emotional connections to that don’t involve s*x. 

Really good, amazing, life altering s*x. 

People always knock on her door, though, so it’s not really a surprise when she hears a knock just after dinner time. She’s just managed to get her dishes into the dishwasher for a change, and actually— alert the media— wipe down the counter, when the sound grabs her attention. 

“Coming!” She dries her hands on a towel and, expecting Pam or Josh, heads over to open her front door. 

Her stomach plummets, and then threatens to come back up to her throat. It’s definitely not Josh or Pam at her door. 

“Hey.” Chris smiles— he still has scurvy— and leans against the doorframe. “What’s happening?”

Beth stares at him. She can’t say anything, or she may well throw up. 

The silence stretches until it’s paper thin, Chris waiting patiently for Beth to get her bearings. In the end, she forced out a terse, “Not much.” Which she immediately follows with, “Why are you here?” 

Chris shrugs. He’s always doing that, like he’s not entirely sure what he’s doing at any given time. “I missed you.” Then, with that half smirk that manages to show every one of his rotten teeth, “I wanted to see how you were.” 

How did you find me? The question wells up inside her with bubbling fear, a dreadful tightening in her stomach. Instead,  she says, “Ah,” and makes no move to let him in. 

She needs to get to her phone. It’s just on the kitchen counter. She needs to call the police and tell them he’s been stalking her. She has to do something. She needs to get him away from her. 

His eyes go over her head and then back to hers. She grinds her teeth trying not to cower. “Are you gonna invite me in?”

“No.” Finally, an immediate response. Enforcing boundaries, and all that. She’s marginally proud of herself. It only took her— what, a full decade? 

Progress. 

Chris’s smile doesn’t even waver. He meets her eyes, and she expects him to say something derogatory as he leaves, or try asking again with that ugly pout he tries to use on her, but instead—

“Let me in, Omega.”

Beth blinks, and Chris is in her apartment, passing her as though he has a right to be here. 

Oh god. No. 

She draws a shuddering breath and pushes the door shut. She doesn’t bother locking it. “Chris, what are you—“

“I was starting to think that other Alpha would never leave you alone,” he interrupts. 

The other— oh. Sean. How does he know about Sean?

God, how long has he been following her?

“What do you mean, leave me alone?” She puts a hand on the counter, but stays by the door. He’ll notice if she suddenly picks up her phone and starts calling someone. Especially the police. 

“He was always around,” Chris says. He sprawls onto her couch, hanging mostly off of it. He’s not as tall as Sean, but he’s still too big for her little loveseat. He still has several inches on her. “I’ve been waiting for you to have a heat without him so I could help you out.”

Her skin is absolutely crawling. “I have an alpha for my heats,” she says flatly. She takes a step closer to her phone— unfortunately, also closer to Chris. 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” He picks up the remote and switches on the TV, pulling up Netflix to browse. “He stopped showing up in between, though.” 

“You’ve been watching me.” The words alone threaten to bring her dinner back up. She takes another step. Two feet from her phone. It’s almost within arms reach. “For how long?”

“Since he got in my way at the bar,” he says. He reads the description to a show she doesn’t recognize, then keeps browsing. “That was rude of him, by the way. Who just sweeps in and tries to run off with another Alpha’s Omega?” 

One foot. She puts her hand on the counter, trying to be subtle. “You think I’m—“

“Come here, Omega.”

She blinks, and she’s standing in front of Chris on the couch, her phone still on the counter. 

Fuck.

“Chris,” she says softly. Her voice sounds shaky even to her own ears. s**t. “Chris, I’ve told you again and again, I don’t want—“ 

He just… grabs her. 

Beth snaps her face to the side, avoiding as best she can. His hands are everywhere, no matter how much she wriggles away from them. When she shoves at his chest, he barely moves. 

A malnourished Alpha is still an Alpha. He still has the muscle strength of an Alpha. He could still snap her in half. 

Oh god. Help.

She wants her Alpha. 

“Chris!” She shoves at him again, and his hands squeeze her hips, trying to still her. “Chris, stop!” 

“Quiet, Omega.”

Beth goes absolutely still. 

She’s fourteen. 

The alpha boy her mom brought home calls her “sister.” His hormones jumpstart hers. She presents as an omega within a month. 

Chris’s hands still her hips. She clamps her mouth shut and closes her eyes. 

Henry catches her scent the moment it develops. He promises to help her understand it. He promises to see her through her heat. 

“Good girl,” Chris says, trailing his lips over her scent gland. Beth squeezes her eyes shut and tells herself to fight his command. 

Henry touches her even when she doesn’t want him to. He demands she call him Alpha. He no longer calls her “sister.” He doesn’t even use her name. Only Omega. 

She can do it. She knows she can. She can get out of this. She’s done it before. This isn’t even the worst she’s had. 

She’s fifteen. Henry saw her through her first heat. She feels sick after, sore, and drained. He preens like a peacock and calls her his. 

She manages to lift her arms and shove again, pushing against Chris’s stomach. He laughs, his hands sliding up under her shirt. 

“Be good for me, Omega.” The alpha push is there, but the omega part of her snarls, and it escapes her lips. She pushes again, and he grabs her wrists, pulling them up toward his chest. “I said be good.”

She has her second heat six months later. Henry bites her neck. She fractures his ribs and spits in his face. 

Chris shoves her onto the couch. She begins to kick, struggling even as he pins her down with his legs around hers. There’s barely any room on the couch, and still he manages to trap her. 

“I’m going to bite you, Omega,” he says evenly. Like he’s telling her he’s going to the store, and not threatening her. “Hold still for me.”

She’s sixteen. She has another heat, and Henry sits outside her door and tells her that when she calls him alpha, he’ll come in. She takes four excedrin and passes out. He’s gone the next day, and she has her heat alone. 

“Stop!” Beth screams. She brings her knee up, but he squeezes his thighs and she can’t move. When he leans down, she turns her head and bites his ear until she tastes blood. 

“f**k!” Chris rears back, rage rolling off him, even more rancid than his natural scent. 

He flips her onto her stomach before she can squirm her way out. There’s no more alpha commanding, no attempt at sweet words or foreplay. He just shoves her shirt up out of his way, pinning her down by the back of her neck. 

Beth can’t breathe. Her face presses further into the cushions, even as she tries to turn it toward fresh air. She manages to suck in one deep, acrid smelling breath. 

And she starts to scream. 

Henry pins her down outside of her heat, shoving her face into the couch cushions by the back of her neck. She struggles, screaming, her cries muffled. Everything slowly begins to turn fuzzy. She goes quiet as he presses his lips to her mating gland— and then his weight disappears from her back. 

There’s a noise like something crashing behind her, and then— like that horrible day, a decade ago— the weight disappears from Beth’s back. She rolls instantly, hitting the ground with a grunt on her back, and then scrambling toward the windows behind her. She ends up curled up under her sewing table, dragging the chair in front of her as a barrier. Anything to keep out of Chris’s reach. 

“Omega.” It’s a female voice that startles her back, with more alpha push than Chris’s. Beth focuses on it, grounding with alarming and sharp clarity. A middle aged, blonde woman crouches in front of her, on the other side of the chair— her neighbor, Helen. Wearing her nightgown and a thin, pink cotton robe. The sight of her brings something akin to relief— but no, no, she’s not the right alpha—

Behind Helen, her husband, a deceptively ripped Omega man— the body builder type, who could easily pass for an alpha at a glance— holds Chris to the ground. He has handcuffs in his hands, his sheriff's badge glinting at his hip. Next to his gun. 

“Stop moving,” he says sharply. “You’re under arrest for the s****l assault of an unmated omega, attempted non-consensual mating, stalking…” 

His voice fades from Beth’s consciousness as Helen reaches into her hiding spot, taking her hand with a light touch. She begins to stroke the scent gland on her wrist, slow, gentle circles that pull Beth’s focus entirely to her. 

“Focus on me, Beth,” she says softly, still with that alpha push. “He’s not your problem anymore. Don’t worry about him. We’ve got that all under control.” 

Beth feels the fight drain from her, her body weak and trembling with adrenaline. Helen— she’s trying, and on some inner level, she feels soothed, but it’s— it’s not enough, it’s all wrong, the voice, the scent, it’s all wrong—

Sean. His face flashes through her mind. 

“I want my alpha,” she whimpers. 

“I know, honey,” Helen says. Her voice is kind. Her thumb still strokes a slow circle over Beth’s wrist gland. “We’ll get him for you. We’re calling him.” 

“Sean.” His name feels like a prayer on her lips— and pulls her tears to the forefront of her consciousness. They stream down her face like tiny rivers. She draws a shuddering breath. “He won’t come.”

“He’ll come,” Helen insists. 

Beth feels lightheaded. Her body aches, all of it, shaking harder than she can manage. She lays down on her side and pulls her knees to her chest, barely managing to keep Helen in arm’s reach. “He won’t. He won’t come.” A small sob bubbles up from her chest, and she closes her eyes. 

The sheriff drags Chris, growling like a rabid animal, out of her home. 

“He doesn’t want me,” she weeps. The world darkens, closing in on her. “He won’t come. He never comes. He won’t—”  

“Beth?” Helen sounds panicked, but her voice just gets fainter and fainter. Beth can barely track it anymore. “Omega— Beth, stay with me honey—“ 

Darkness sucks Beth down into its warm, silent embrace.