Betrayed Omega: Chosen by the Mafia Alpha
I had not cried, because crying during a heat was exactly the kind of biological display I had been trained to be ashamed of, the kind that Marcus called gross on his worst days and a lot on his better ones.
"It's gross," he had said once, not Tuesday, a different day, earlier in the relationship, and he had laughed afterwards to soften it, and I had laughed too because what else did you do with a thing like that when the person saying it was the person you'd chosen. "Not you, Jules, I just, heats are a lot. The scent and the... It's a lot to deal with."
I had started the suppressants seriously after that. Before that, they'd been occasional, disciplinary. After that, they'd been daily. Afte
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