The words leave her lips of their own accord, shattering the carefully concealed armor of her soul.
And it took less than ten minutes in a room with this monstrous man.
She should have been in control.
She was in control, until he threw her Omega title around carelessly, using it as the deadliest insult.
And as she towers over him, looking into deep brown eyes, she knows she fucked up.
Her reaction catches him off guard, too. She’s mere inches from his face, and she’s sure if Gerard looked through the door’s small square window he would have pulled her out of the cell in a heartbeat.
She lost control. Not the beast in the room.
He saw through her, stabbing at her insecurities and giving voice to the doubts that were already in her mind.
Why are you here? You’re not cut out for this.
There’s a moment of silence too long as she studies his face. Clean shaven, his pale face is too brutish to be pretty, and too striking to be conventionally handsome. His dark brown hair falls haphazardly, wild and unkempt. But at certain angles, he’s devastatingly attractive.
And entirely too delicious smelling.
She feels the growl in his chest, and how it sends shivers up her spine. Her core clenches, and she takes a step back from him. As he watches her, he grins, showing bright, slightly crooked teeth.
He looks like a fucking villain.
Gathering up her papers, not saying a word, she knocks at the door.
“Goodbye, Ellie,” Erik chuckles, his voice low.
Hearing him speak her name does something to her she doesn’t have time to think about.
Gerard says nothing as he leads her out of the bottom floor, but she can see the smirk on his face.
Asshole.
“You didn’t last long in there,” he comments, and the arrogance in his tone makes her tense up.
“Right,” she says simply. “It was a quick assessment. That’s usually how my first meetings go.”
Liar, she thinks. That’s never how they go.
“So, there’s going to be other meetings then?” He asks innocently.
“Of course,” she says as he leads her to the lobby. “Please tell Doctor Porter I’ll be in touch.”
But it’s a lie.
As soon as she steps outside the double doors, she hastily walks to her car, almost losing her balance on the gravel. She slams the driver’s side door shut, breathing heavily into her palms.
She can’t come back here. This is way out of her league.
Erik found her insecurity much too quickly, as if he knew exactly where to dig and what words to say to unravel her.
And what was she expecting out of meeting with him? What notes would she take?
Hi, murderer? I might be as crazy as you. Do you mind telling me why you killed those people? Do you like it here? Are the pillows soft?
Yes, I’m an Omega. And you’re an Alpha. So?
And on top of that…he smells fucking delicious.
She should have worn a liner in her panties for today. They’re damp with slick.
How embarrassing.
It’s freezing.
She wraps herself in the blankets as she sits with her laptop on the bed, but it’s not enough. The air stings, the cold so painful she’s sure her entire body will turn to ice. The furnace works, but even then, the chill is persistent. So, instead of focusing on the cold, she pulls up public records to focus on the monster she met.
Erik Hart
She gasps as she looks at his mugshot. His hair is longer, falling just above his shoulders, and his eyes are dark and warm, a rich whiskey color. His face is clean shaven and pale, just as she remembers it to be.
But it’s the look on his face that gives her pause.
It’s arrogant, with no hint of remorse, with full lips pulled into a slight smirk.
Doing more research, she pulls up detailed information of his crimes.
She has to turn her laptop off, horrified at the photos.
There wasn’t just one crime scene—there were many.
So many body parts in different places.
A head shoved into a mailbox. Fingers splayed out on a driveway, meticulously placed.
An eyeball glued to a ceiling fan.
No. No. No.
She was in a room with that man.
With that murderer.
The Alpha that called her beautiful.
“Holy shit,” she gasps.
Lita was correct. She shouldn’t have come here.
Suddenly, Los Angeles doesn’t seem as dull or vapid.
She wants to drive back there and forget this ever happened, consequences be damned.
She’ll run back with her tail between her legs, groveling to Lita, and it will still be better than what she just fucking saw on her computer.
There’s no way in Hell she’s seeing Erik Hart again.
And she hates that there’s a small part of her that aches at the thought.
Dark hair. Large hands.
Her legs part easy for him, falling open as he takes his time exploring her.
A dark, low voice against her ear.
“You know why I did it, beautiful.”
In the dream, it all makes sense.
She looks up at the ceiling fan, watching it spin around and around, a pair of watchful eyes judging them both.
“I do,” she whispers back.
The fan falls. She screams.
She wakes early, the sky still dark. The blankets are piled in a heap beneath her feet, her body soaked with sweat.
She ignores the pulsing between her legs and tries to erase the memory of the dream.
It’s time to leave Green Woods forever.
She packs her stuff quickly, putting her suitcase in her car, then checks her phone. There’s no signal, even though she had a bar last night.
But that’s fine. She’s sure she’ll have reception a few miles down the road. Once she does, she’ll call Doctor Porter and apologize for wasting his time.
“Okay,” she breathes, shutting the driver’s door. For a moment, she feels guilty, and her heart does a strange flip at never seeing Erik again.
She chastises herself, ashamed of her emotions. Is she that lonely and desperate for attention from an Alpha?
It doesn’t matter, though. She’s leaving.
But her car doesn’t start.
She presses the power button over and over. She takes her foot off and on the brake, doing everything she possibly can for the damn thing to power on.
“Come on, please,” she begs the electric vehicle, as if by some miracle it will listen.
It doesn’t.
She puts her face in her hands and takes cleansing breaths, breathing as deeply as she can.
One. Two. Three.
She can walk to the facility and use their phone and let Doctor Porter know she will no longer be with them.
She can call a tow truck and get out of here, for good.
She hops out of the car and starts the trek.
But she’s not accustomed to walking in the dark and cold for long. Her puffy jacket and scarf do little to keep her body warm, and by the time she walks through the doors of Green Woods Correctional Facility, she’s shivering. Gerard sits at his station and raises an eyebrow at her, annoyed.
“It’s five in the morning. What are you doing here?” He barks.
Her teeth chatter. “I need to use your p-phone.”
His eyes narrow, and she wants to scream at him. “No.” He says simply.
“Are you serious?” She snaps, shivering. “My car broke down. I need to call a tow truck.”
“It’s against policy.” He doesn’t budge an inch, and Ellie stares at him, astounded at his audacity.
“Why do you think I’m here at five in the morning? I walked here.”
He shrugs. “I’m not risking my job just so you can use the phone.”
Her mouth falls open. “I don’t understand what your problem is—”
The double doors open before she can finish her sentence, and Doctor Porter walks through, his face perking up as he sees Ellie. “Miss Winters! You’re here early. But that’s good,” he insists. “I wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.”
“Oh.” Ellie stands awkwardly in front of the desk, unable to keep eye contact with the doctor’s delighted expression. “I need to use your phone, if that’s okay—”
“Of course, but I need to speak with you first.” Before she can reply, Doctor Porter takes her arm and leads her through the double doors and down the hallway in the opposite direction she went with Gerard. “In my office, please.”
He unlocks a door, and Ellie follows him into a small welcoming room. The walls are painted light blue, with a few black and white photographs hanging from the walls. A broad mahogany desk sits in one corner, with chairs on each side. In the opposite end, facing the desk, is a black leather couch.
“Sit,” he insists, sitting at the desk. Ellie takes the chair facing him.
She has no idea what’s going on. She just needs to get out of here.
Erik’s scent wafts into the room and she shifts uncomfortably in her seat.
“Doctor Porter,” she insists, “Please—”
“It’s remarkable,” he says, smiling widely. “You’re incredible.”
That stops her.
“I’m sorry?” she asks, not sure if she’s heard him correctly.
“What you’ve done with Erik.”
Now she’s sure she hasn’t heard him correctly.
“I haven’t done anything with him,” she says, heat rising to her cheeks. “We talked for less than ten minutes. It was barely an introduction.”
But the doctor’s grin only grows. “He’s agreed to therapy sessions with me again. He said after speaking with you, he wants to try to better himself.”
There’s a gnawing in her as she remembers the smirk on his face and the cruelty in his eyes as he taunted her.
That fucking liar.
“Oh,” she breathes. “That’s wonderful news.” She tries to sound convincing and gives the doctor a polite smile.
But I’m still leaving.
“We even spoke about his past, and he’s willing to do trauma work with me,” he continues. “I don’t know how your conversation went, but you’ve done incredible, Ellie.”
She laughs awkwardly. “It can’t be just me, Doctor Porter. He barely knows me. I’m sure he was already making these decisions.”
“I almost sent you home yesterday,” he continues, and Ellie realizes he hasn’t listened to her at all. “And it was wrong of me. I judged you for being an Omega, and I was frightened by what he would say or do to you. I wasn’t sure you could handle it, but I was wrong. And I’m so impressed.”
She remains silent, letting the praise wash over her, even if it’s not warranted.
Erik’s lying.
“Thank you,” she says slowly. “But I’m afraid—”
“I’d like to make you a proposal,” he interrupts her. “If you’d let me.”
He opens a desk drawer and pulls out a piece of paper. “This is your new negotiated rate with us,” he says, sliding it over to her. “If you agree to work with Erik and take him on as your patient.”
She frowns and reads the paper, her jaw falling open at the number.
It’s enough to buy a new electric car. Or two.
“I’m not a doctor or a therapist,” she insists. “I don’t have patients. All I do is ask questions about their experiences and compare them to others.” She shakes her head but doesn’t stop staring at the price on the paper.
“No, you’re not,” he says gently. “But Alpha behavior pairs very well with Alpha psychology and your notes are invaluable. I picked you for a reason to work with us, back when I thought you were Elliot.”
She bites her lip, weighing her options. Her car is dead, her phone barely works, and Erik lied to get his way. Everything about the situation is suspicious, to say the least.
But the word “no” doesn’t leave her mouth.
Instead, she picks up the pen the doctor offers and signs her name at the bottom of her new contract.
