Chapter 62: The Aftermath
The moment the door clicked shut behind Rhys, Aurora scrambled.
It wasn’t thought, it was instinct—a sudden, electric panic that shot from her stomach to her fingertips. She yanked on the first clothes she found in his dresser: a pair of his sweatpants, rolled at the waist until they stopped falling off her hips, and one of his worn shop t-shirts that smelled overwhelmingly of him. She didn’t bother with shoes, just shoved her feet into a pair of slide sandals she found by the door.Her heart was a trapped bird against her ribs. Heat.The word echoed, foreign and terrifying and thrilling.It was coming. She could feel it, a low-grade hum under her skin, a restlessness in her blood that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with a deep, biological pull.And it wanted him. It wanted his bite, his bond, his everything. The certainty of it was a crashing wave, drowning out every other rational thought.
She called a rideshare, twisting her hands in the too-long sleeves as she waited on the curb. The driver gave her a weird look, this small blonde drowning in men’s clothes, her hair a wild halo around a pale, frantic face. She didn’t care.Rina lived in a compact brick walk-up fifteen minutes away. Aurora fumbled with her spare key, her hands shaking so badly she almost dropped it. She finally got the door open and burst into the sunlit chaos of Rina’s studio apartment.
Rina was perched on a stool at her kitchen island, a massive waffle drowning in syrup halfway to her mouth. She froze, her brown eyes going wide with surprise, then sharpening into immediate concern. She dropped the fork.It clattered against the plate.“Aurora? What the hell?” Rina slid off the stool, her own morning dishevelment—a ratty tank top and sleep shorts—forgotten. She took in Aurora’s appearance, the wild eyes, the borrowed clothes.Her scent, usually a calm, sunny citrus, spiked with protective alarm. “What happened?Did that fuck-ass alpha do something?I swear to god, I will gut him. Talk to me.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Aurora breathed, the words coming too fast. “Well, something’s wrong. I mean, it’s not wrong, it’s just… it’s happening.”
“What is happening?” Rina closed the distance, her hands coming up to grip Aurora’s shoulders.“Breathe, for fuck’s sake. You’re white as a sheet.”
“My heat,” Aurora blurted. The words hung in the air, stark and heavy.“It’s coming.I can feel it. It’s… it’s a whisper right now, but it’s there. And I… I want him to bite me, Rina.I want him to bond me. I want it so much it feels like I’m going to break apart if he doesn’t.”
The silence that followed was absolute.Rina’s grip softened, her sharp anger melting into something awed and terribly sad. Her nose twitched, and Aurora knew she was scenting it—that new, feverish undertone beneath Aurora’s vanilla and lavender.
“Oh, honey,” Rina said softly, all the fight leaving her voice.She pulled Aurora into a tight hug.“Come on. Sit down before you fall down.”
She guided Aurora to the sofa, pushing a pile of art books and a half-knitted scarf onto the floor.Aurora sank into the cushions, her legs finally giving out. The ramble started again, unstoppable.“He was so gentle this morning, Rina. He washed my hair.He said he was memorizing me. He wants to take me on a real date tonight, to that Italian place with the candles. He told me about how he protected us from Elena, and it made me feel so safe, so sure. And then this… this feeling started. It’s like my body knows what it needs before I do, and it’s screaming for him.Is that insane? It feels insane.”
Rina sat beside her, pulling her knees up to her chest.She watched Aurora with an uncharacteristic solemnity. “It’s not insane.It’s biology. And… it’s love, you dummy.”
“But it’s so fast,” Aurora whispered, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “It’s only been weeks.”
“So what?” Rina shrugged.“When you know, you know. My parents bonded after three days. They’re still disgustingly in love thirty years later.” She reached out, poking Aurora’s knee. “The question isn’t if it’s fast.The question is… does he know? About your heat coming?”
Aurora’s hands fell into her lap.She stared at them. The frantic energy seeped out of her, leaving a cold, hollow dread.“I… I don’t know.He might have scented it. He got this weird look this morning, just for a second. But I didn’t tell him.I just said I wasn’t scared anymore, about my first time. That I wanted it to be with him.”
“Okay,” Rina said, drawing the word out. “Okay, so he might suspect. But you haven’t actually looked him in his big, tattooed face and said, ‘Hey, Rhys, my body is about to launch into a primal mating cycle and I need you to be the one to see me through it.’ Which, by the way, is a fucking conversation to have before the candlelit pasta.”
The reality of it landed like a physical weight. The fantasy—Rhys sweeping her up, recognizing her need, claiming her perfectly—collided with the practical, terrifying act of speaking it aloud. Of laying that ultimatum at his feet.What if he wasn’t ready? What if the idea of a bond, after Elena, scared him? What if he just wanted a sweet omega to date, not one about to erupt into a feverish, demanding heat?
“I’m scared,” Aurora admitted, her voice tiny.“I know you are.” Rina bumped her shoulder. “But you’re also the bravest person I know.You walked into a stranger’s apartment, alone. You trusted him.This is just the next part of trusting him. You gotta tell him.”
Aurora looked down at the too-big shirt, at the faded logo of Rhys’s shop stretched over her chest.She brought the collar to her nose, inhaling deeply. Cedar, leather, engine grease, and him.It steadied her.It always steadied her.
“You’re right,” she said, the tremble leaving her voice. “I have to tell him.”
“Tonight,” Rina said firmly.“On the date.Before the tiramisu. Look, it’s gonna be okay. That alpha looks at you like you’re the only goddamn lightbulb in a blackout.He’s not going to run.”
Aurora wanted to believe her. She clung to the image Rina painted. But the new heat in her veins was a silent, persistent counterpoint, whispering of ancient needs and the terrifying vulnerability of laying yourself bare, not just in body, but in destiny.She had the rest of the day to prepare, to gather her courage. She would go back to his apartment, as planned. She would build a nest, not just for comfort, but for a purpose.She would get ready for their date.
And then she would tell him.The decision was made. The fear didn’t disappear, but it compacted into a hard, focused knot in her stomach.She would do this.She had to.
“Okay,” Aurora said, standing up.She smoothed down the massive shirt.“Okay. I’m going to go tell him.”