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The smallest bit of her omega that couldn’t quite be suppressed by the meds and blockers, the bit that still saw Sam as pup even after all these years waged a silent rebellion. The rotten stench of sulfur clinging to him, meshing his lush, woodsy scent with something other. Her omega ached to give him a thorough scenting, anything to drown the reek of danger out. Shay swallowed thickly, fortifying herself against the near-silent pleas that chipped away at resolve bit by bit.
Pup is hurting, our pup is hurting, why aren’t we going to him?
If it weren’t for the patches hiding her scent, the room would be flooded with the sour-cherry-burnt-cocoa aroma of her distress. Based on the tightness around her twin’s eyes and the ever-tightening clench of his fists, Dean’s omega was being just as rebellious.
A particularly mournful wail escaped the confines of the panic room, even through the thick iron walls, and Shay’s eyes burned. Blonde lashes fluttered, fighting back the burgeoning wave of tears, and she ducked her head before Dean or Bobby could clock her.
She opened her mouth, only to swallow down the instinctive keen of her omega trying to call out to her pup before it could fully bloom.
Once Shay was certain she had refortified her control, she managed to rasp, “I need some air.”