And Burr is confused, but his distress ebbs for being in such a place, among such smells. But Jefferson is rejecting him, just as--nobody wants him. No one will--

And he is crying then. Those omega smells. The please and the protect me, take care of me smells that one might expect in one unattached, or attached but alone.

"But I am," Burr says, and he doesn't understand. "I don't--you don't want me?" And he isn't acting like himself. But everything is wrong and he doesn't understand. "I need my mate, he told me to go to my mate," and he reaches out for Jefferson's hand again, bares his throat.