Page 13 of Shattered Trinket
“But when will I see you again?” I ask him sadly while stepping closer.
I rub my face against his shirt, this need to somehow… mark him as mine, even if it’s temporary, pushing me to nuzzle into him as much as possible so my scent sticks to him.
He huffs out another laugh, likely realizing what I’m doing, but he doesn’t stop me. Instead, I can feel his chest begin to vibrate against my face, giving me my first dose of an alpha purr as he leans down and brings his cheek to mine, rubbing it againstme. I sigh happily, knowing these clothes will smell like him, and knowing exactly where I’ll be hiding them when I go back to my room.
With a kiss to my lips, he steps back with my hand in his, and I can feel him sliding something into my curled fingers before he lets go completely and keeps walking backwards. My arm falls heavily to my side, fist clenched so I don’t drop whatever he gave me, as I watch him disappear into the trees.
“You’ll see me whenever you want to, Dove. I’m only a phone call away for you. Always,” he calls out before he’s completely out of sight, and then he’s gone, like he was never here.
The Ghost.
I stand there staring into those trees for what seems like forever, missing him all over again. An ache takes root in my chest, and I rub the heel of my palm against the spot, taking a deep breath. When I unclench my fist, there’s a piece of paper with a number scrawled messily across it, making the ache lessen if only marginally.
The sun is nearly all the way up when I sneak back inside and quietly slip back into my room, leaning my back against the door, and taking a deep breath as I relax. But all I can smell is Jeremiah, and I realize I need to hide these clothes fast before someone comes in here.
I rush to my closet, closing the door behind me before I move to the nest and open the smaller door to climb inside. I crawl across the foam floor to the far right corner, stripping the shirt and my pajama pants off so I can tuck them away out of sight. I suppose I don’t really have to hide them here since Mama Valley said this was a space only I would enter unless I invited someone in, but there’s a part of me that says I should hide the clothes anyway. Just in case.
Just before I push everything behind some of the plushies I brought in here, I bring the shirt up to my nose and closemy eyes as I inhale deeply. My belly flutters as Jeremiah’s gunpowder and wild jasmine scent fills my nostrils, and…
My brows furrow as I rub my knees together when an ache builds between my legs, something I’m not used to and haven’t ever felt before. Not like this.
Gasping when I notice my panties are embarrassingly wet, made even more noticeable because of my lack of pants, I quickly shove the clothes behind my pile of plushies and crawl backwards to get some distance from them.
I know about the birds and the bees, and I know what being aroused is. It’s just so… foreign to me. I was already a late bloomer when my parents and I realized I was an omega, my scent taking longer than it should have to fully develop. It wasn’t until my twenty-fifth birthday that my designation emerged completely, and by that time, I’d been living as a beta, just like my parents.
Before Victor, I hadn’t experienced more than a kiss, not really interested in anyone from my hometown, and then he brought me home with him, stealing what I should have been able to give freely whenIwas ready.
My heart rate increases as I try to suck in breaths, flashbacks of those painful memories with Victor playing on a continuous reel behind my closed eyes.
I can remember the sick feeling in my gut I’d get anytime he touched me, the way I’d pray for death anytime he’d force himself inside of me—force other things inside of me. How I’d learned to escape inside of my mind so I could pretend it wasn’t really happening to me.
It all comes rushing back to me, and unlike the nightmares, it’s harder to pull myself out of this as the panic hooks its claws into me. Fear of the unknown future that lies ahead for me, not helping my already frazzled mind.
Does this reaction to Jeremiah’s scent mean my body is trying to prepare me for something I’m likely not ready for? That I might never be ready for?
A sob breaks free from my chest, and I cover my lips with my hand to muffle it as my brain works to make me relive some of the worst moments of my life, reminding me how tainted I am because of him. I clench my eyes shut, willing the memories away, hating that even in death, Victor still has his hooks dug deep in my psyche. My brain has forgotten how to signal that I need to breathe and my chest heaves as I work to pull air back into my lungs.
Jeremiah’s scent is what finally breaks through the flashbacks—the panic attack wracking my body—obliterating them to dust and replacing them with every secret, special moment I’ve had with him, including tonight. Reminding me that I’m free, safe at last.
Even when he isn’t here, he’s protecting me, putting me back together as I fall apart. He can calm the storm just with his scent alone.
I sniffle, curling up in the corner far away from the mound of plushies and the clothes, despite the ache in my heart that’s begging me to curl up with my nose buried in the shirt.
How funny that his scent both made me panic over the feelings it evoked, and brought me back down to earth when it broke through the fog.
Five
Cozette
“I just want to be normal again. I want the hopes and dreams I had as a girl back. What I’d hoped I’d find when I perfumed and had to do a crash course on being an omega with limited information. I want to not be afraid of everyone I meet, and to not have debilitating panic attacks that leave me exhausted physically and mentally every time something reminds me of… ofhim,” I tell Micah, my voice getting smaller and smaller.
I just want to forget!
But I can’t, and I’m terrified that no matter what I do, I’ll live with these memories that I wish I could bleach from my brain for the rest of my life.
“You’re being too hard on yourself again, Cozy. It’s only been a few months since you escaped. Nobody is expecting you to just wake up and be okay with everything you went through. Give yourself some grace. You’re already so much better than you were a few months ago, so why are you being so hard on yourself right now?”
Micah is gentle with his words, but they still hit me like a bullet because he’s not wrong. However, it’s harder to see the progress I’ve made when it feels like every step forward I take ends up with me having to go ten steps back.