26. Caroline #2
“Bullshit. Omegas are punished for something beyond their control.”
I feel the hesitation before he speaks. “Saying it out loud sounds bad, doesn’t it? Shit. I’m sorry. I was just regurgitating what I grew up hearing. I didn’t even realize how fucked up it was until I said it.”
I try to stand, but his arm stays braced around my middle.
“I don’t believe that. I swear I don’t.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“I know, sweetheart. I’m truly sorry. I…
Fuck. That was a fucked-up way of growing up.
It’s all I learned when I was younger, and I never even questioned it.
I was plucked from school to work as an envoy, and all I saw was how much of an honor it was to protect our people.
I just…” He pauses. “I hear all the time how the surges in this town are affecting the Omegas, making them unstable. All this time I thought the Council was trying to regulate the powers because they cared about you.”
“And now?” I swallow.
“I’ve seen what your town has to offer. How powerful June is, making a potion like that.
I’ve seen Dahlia Cross. I’ve met… you. I don’t know what else the Omegas in this town are capable of, but I’m just now realizing—none of us actually understand how Omegas work.
We think that because we have scientists studying their biology and figuring out how to minimize their heat cycles, we understand them. We’ve been so wrong.”
“That’s why you knew about wolfsbane. And the potion you gave me at the apothecary…” It clicks. “You study Omegas.”
“It’s part of our training. I’ve never thought much of it.
Like I said, I’m only an envoy. I know as much as I’m taught.
I know the surges are interrupting the ley lines, and unstable magic affects everyone.
I know the unbonded Omegas’ magic is part of why the Rift is getting bigger.
I know the Council believes regulating that’s what’s safe for everyone. ”
I shift on his lap, turning my head to see his profile. “What does that make you, then? If they send you to places like this?”
“Problem solver. We report to the Council. When there’s a problem, we’re sent to assess and provide reports. Each of us has a specific skill set that’s valuable to them.”
“Yours?”
“I grew up in that world. Warlock for the Council by twenty-five. Rune magic is my specialty. So when a town like Willowbrook starts having problems with the Rift, they don’t send a politician. They send me. To assess, to report, and if necessary, to act.”
“So all those questions at the apothecary, at the town hall, about the Omegas, about the Rift, that was you assessing?”
“Yes. But it’s not what you think. The Council sees this town as a problem. An asset with a liability. They see the Rift as a threat to be contained. They see the unregistered Omegas as a disease. They want a simple solution.”
“And you don’t?”
“I see a town that’s surviving.” His gaze drifts toward the window.
“People trying to live their lives. I see you, and…” He exhales, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
“It’s not as simple as I thought it would be.
My job is to give them a report that fits their narrative.
But being here, talking to you…” He trails off for a moment. “It complicates things.”
The man from the Council, the one with the cool eyes and precise words, seems to be gone. In his place is someone else.
I turn my head, my cheek pressing against his shirt. A need to offer comfort rises in me, strange and instinctive. I reach up and cover his hand where it rests on my arm, my fingers threading through his.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For the distraction. For telling me the truth, even when it was hard to hear.”
His hand turns under mine, his fingers closing around my palm. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. The rain drums against the windows.
“Do you hate me?”
The question is quiet. Not fragile—Silas doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to do fragile—but there’s something raw underneath it.
“I’m slightly annoyed,” I say honestly. “But I know you were being a soldier. I don’t think you came here aiming to hurt anyone.
You’ve got a lot of complicated thoughts in your head right now.
I understand what that feels like. And you stayed behind to keep me company while two other Alphas went out in a storm to find Thistle.
You were ready to go out there yourself.
So no. I don’t hate you, Silas. You’ve got a lot to unpack about yourself and the Council, but that’s yours to figure out. ”
He’s quiet. His thumb moves across my knuckles, like he’s not aware he’s doing it.
“Griffin was out there too,” he says.
“Yeah,” I say. “He was.”
“Does he—”
“He and I have history. It’s complicated.” I don’t elaborate. There’s no need, and right now, I don’t want to. “Why?”
Silas is quiet for another beat. Then: “No reason.”
It’s a lie. I can hear it in the way the words come out too flat, too quick. But I let it go. Because his hand has tightened around mine, and his breathing has changed, and under the comfort of his scent, the banked fire in me is starting to glow again.
“Caroline.” My name in his mouth does something to me. “I’m going to do something, and I need you to tell me to stop if you want me to.”
My pulse picks up. “What are you going to do?”
Instead of answering, he shifts. His hand slides from mine to my jaw, turning my head. His face is close. This close, I can see flecks of silver in his blue eyes, the slight part of his lips.
I don’t tell him to stop.
He kisses me.
His mouth covers mine, and there’s nothing hesitant about it.
His fingers thread into my hair, his other arm locking around my waist and pulling me against him.
I gasp, and he takes the opening, his tongue sliding past my lips.
He tastes like rain and something darker underneath, something that makes my whole body arch toward him.
The rain, the storm, Thistle, my own shame—all of it burns away. There’s only him. The pressure of his mouth. The grip of his hands. The fire he banked roars back, a focused, hungry blaze, and I’m the fuel.
This time, when I move to straddle him, he lets me.