Page 32 of Lilacs and Leather

Maybe my hormones have finally melted the part of my brain that houses my common sense, but hearing Rhett beg snaps that last thread of resistance I’ve been clinging to.

“Okay,” I breathe, a tear sliding down my face.

“That’s a good girl. What’s your apartment number? I’m heading over now.”

The relief in his voice makes my heart skip a beat. I can hear other voices in the background, but Rhett ignores them. There’s the sound of a slamming door, and a car engine roaring to life. And damn it if my stomach doesn’t unclench a little at the sound.

“3F. I’ll make sure the door is unlocked,” I whisper, swallowing again.

“I’m making a quick stop for supplies, but I’ll be there within the hour. Just get to the door if you can and wait. Do not unlock the door for anyone but me, little one. Do you understand?” Rhett commands.

“Yes, sir,” I groan, the words slipping out on instinct. I sit a little straighter, finding my legs a little stronger than before.

“Good girl. I’ll be there soon,” Rhett coos.

We hang up, and I take a deep breath. I curse my stupid instincts as I find the strength to stand and pull a light sheet around my body before sitting on the floor next to the door. I shiver, both hot and cold, trying to breathe through a new wave of cramps. I must drift off for a moment, as I startle awake with a squeak when a knock comes at the door.

“Lydia? Are you okay?”

I relax at the sound of Rhett’s voice. “Yeah, give me a second,” I call back as loud as I can.

Gritting my teeth, I use the wall to push myself into a standing position. I still lean heavily on the wall as I twist the deadbolt open and turn the handle lock. I take a shaky step away from the door, hugging the sheet closer around me even as the fabric grates on my skin like gravel. The door opens, and I nearly fall as my knees buckle. His scent washes over me, leather and dusty paper, a balm to my fragile senses. I try to hold back the keening whimpers, but my eyes burn at the relief flooding through me, just because he’s close. He’s holding a few paper shopping bags, which he immediately sets down on the floor before closing and locking the door behind him.

“Lydia,” he sighs, and the concern in his voice and eyes snaps my fragile control.

“I’m sorry,” I choke, tears spilling down my face.

Without a second of hesitation, he pulls me to his chest, muscular arms wrapping tight around me. I bury my face in his shirt, inhaling deeply. My knees buckle again, and he holds me tighter, supporting my weight with little effort. Rhett buries his face in my hair, nose brushing lightly over my neck. I can feel his hard cock against my stomach, and my hand drifts toward it mindlessly.

“No,” Rhett growls into my neck as he feels my movement.

“What?” I gasp, pulling away to look into his face.

His eyes are dark, jaw clenched. Guilt sets in hot on the heels of sour rejection, and I feel my lower lip trembling for a moment before I press my lips together to contain it. I shrink a little under the intensity of his gaze, and his eyes soften.

“My body is just reacting to your scent. I’m not here for any other reason than to take care of you. I’ll be fine,” Rhett soothes, rubbing my back a little.

I swallow and blush, ducking my chin. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, twisting the sheet in my fingers.

“No apology needed,” he chuckles, pulling me back into his chest.

I allow myself to be tucked into his embrace, his dark chocolate and leather scent working miracles on my tired body. I close my eyes and relax, nuzzling his chest with my cheek. He seems to relax a little at that, a contented hum vibrating against my face. I close my eyes, considering if I could doze standing up when my stomach cramps again, slick sliding down the inside of my leg. I try to double over, a low groan fighting past my clenched teeth, but Rhett’s arms tighten.

“Lydia?” he asks, grabbing my shoulders to hold me at arm’s length.

“Hurts.” My voice is a whine, desperate and needy. I look up, and the emotion in his eyes rips through the final shred of my pride. “Help me, please,” I beg, a tear slipping down my cheek.

Thirteen

Rhett

The scent of her makes my head swim as I stand just inside Lydia’s little apartment.Lilac and lavender, barely detectable under the thick layer of honey and petrichor, nearly overwhelm me. I’m dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, and I hadn’t even bothered to find socks before pulling on a pair of slip-on sneakers on my way out of the pack house. Worry had consumed me for the last few days, and I hated the momentary swell of satisfaction I’d felt when I pulled up to her building, knowing that I was right and Lydia needed me. But standing in front of her, hair limp around her flushed face, body wrapped in a bedsheet, barely able to stand on her own from pain, my protective instincts are roaring in my head.

“Help me, please.” Her voice is tiny, full of pain and need. Her eyes swim with unshed tears, the green of her irises barely visible around her dilated pupils.

I take a deep, steadying breath. She’s more lucid than I’ve ever seen an omega in heat, but it doesn’t mean she fully understands what’s happening to her. My body is screaming to take her, to throw her to the floor and bury my cock as deep inside of her as I can go. But I can’t. Not when she’s not herself.

I scoop her up in my arms, one arm under her legs, the other around her back, and she squeaks at the sudden movement. I glance around and see the mess that is her bed and move over to a small couch under the windows. I set her down gently, urging her to relax back as I kneel on the floor next to her.