Chapter 103: Dirty
The ride to my castle feels excruciatingly long, each second a stretch of torment. The carriage finally grinds to a halt, and I stumble out, the weight of my thoughts heavier than the journey itself. My servants stand at a distance, knowing better than to touch me. I hate it, despise the sensation of anyone’s hands on my skin—especially now.
As I move through the halls, my steps feel heavier, almost unsteady. The third floor looms in my mind, the place where Noelle waits, but I can’t go there. Not like this. Not when I reek of another’s pheromones—an omega’s scent clinging to me like a vile, sickening perfume. It sticks, it festers, crawling under my skin, refusing to let go. How could I ever face Noelle, my beloved, while steeped in this shame?
I finally find the bathroom, slamming the door behind me as if shutting out the disgrace I carry. My hands fumble with the taps, ice-cold water pouring into the tub. It’s almost a frantic movement when I sit in, my body shivering, but it’s not enough. I grab a rough brush, and I scrub, furiously. My skin reddens and stings with each stroke, but the disgusting scent—it’s still there. It won’t leave. I scrub harder, desperate, harder still, until the soap foams into angry bubbles, and my skin feels raw.
But it isn’t enough. It’s never enough.
I can feel my breath coming faster, shallow and ragged, as I keep scrubbing and scrubbing. My hands are almost trembling now, but I don’t stop. The scent of another omega clings to me like a sickness, infecting every inch of me. How could I possibly let Noelle see me like this? How could I touch him, hold him, when I’m tainted?
My skin burns, but I can’t feel it—no, I don’t let myself feel it. The pain is muted by the overwhelming disgust flooding my senses. The harder I scrub, the deeper my shame claws at me, sinking in. I don’t even notice when my fingers start to shake or when the water turns murky from the relentless scrubbing. All I know is that I need this scent gone. I need to be clean, to be worthy of standing beside Noelle again.
But no matter how much I scrub, no matter how much my skin burns and aches, the feeling doesn’t leave. The shame doesn’t leave.
I can’t stop.
*