Chapter 39
thirty-nine
CILLIAN
The first time I inhaled this scent, I wanted to resist.
The dark sweetness of black cherries. Sugared, sour perfection, delicious and fresh in the most impossible way.
It rises off her throat and her damp hair, whipping me in the face. Catapulting me back in time.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I recall every second of that day so clearly. Walking through the performing arts center. Strolling past the theater’s open doors. Checking my phone, already mentally on to my next task—
When she hit me. Flung me off course in every conceivable way.
I remember how I wished I could deny it. And the single fact I knew instantly. The same one I know now.
It’s too late.
Too late to resist or deny or undo. Too late for me.
I belonged to her.
So it was only fair that I made sure she belonged to me, too.
The irony was never lost on me. Briar thinks this arrangement was all about me, serving my pack’s interests at her expense. When, really, I wagered everything we have and everything we are on her.
This was never a marriage of convenience.
Finding her, wanting her, needing her?
This is a marriage of inconvenience.
And I’d pay every price a hundred times over to have her here in my arms.
Jesus. I’d almost forgotten how utterly goddamn perfect she is. But one breath is all it takes to remind me.
I can’t stop myself, turning my face into her throat, inhaling deeper. Briar goes limp, staggering into me. Her entire body quakes as she gulps humid air, getting her first true taste of my scent.
Cloves and smoke.
It took months to find a neutralizer that would cover it while still smelling nearly identical to my actual scent. The fact that I also had to find similar formulas for each of my packmates and our omega—well, it was nearly impossible.
Along with the industrial-strength de-scenter I’ve been pumping into our house for nearly a year… covering it with the same artificial sprays I’ve coated all of our clothing and bedding with. At one point, before Briar arrived, I even had the hallways fogged.
All to turn our home into her prison.
I hated that I had to lock Briar inside, but it was the only way to keep this from her. The only way to protect her.
Because there could be nothing more dangerous than anyone knowing what she means to me. And now that the others know what she means to them?
The heavy rain drenches us. Washing away all of my careful plans.
And I’m furious. Also relieved.
Keeping this from her has nearly killed me. I never would have been able to endure it for anything or anyone else.
From the moment I saw her, she’s been the reason I breathe.
But I would have held my breath forever if it meant keeping her out of harm’s way.
I should have known that wouldn’t work. That this moment was inevitable. As vital as the air vibrating in my lungs and the blood thrumming harder and higher through my veins.
No. Fuck.
This cannot happen.
Not now. Not yet.
Briar’s whimpered moan is the only thing that could possibly break through my Alpha’s single-minded urge to rut. Look, I say to him. She’s scared. I’m her husband. Her alpha. I need to comfort her.
He likes the sound of that enough to lower the octane with a begrudging growl. I push the sound into a purr. Briar’s overheated body sways closer to mine.
It takes every ounce of self-control not to haul her into my arms. Instead, I drop my rumbling voice into a whispered plea. “Tell me to touch you.”
Her fine-boned hands clutch my sodden jacket as she blinks, trying to focus her vision. When our gazes finally connect, I grit an explanation.
“You have to ask me, rosebud,” I rasp. “That was our deal. And I’ve gone to great personal lengths to uphold every promise I make to you.”
Understanding briefly clears the haze from her eyes. She whimpers again, nodding. “P-please, alpha.”
God. I’ve waited so long to hear those words.
My arms instantly snap around her. Our soaked clothing does nothing to hide the way warmth rolls off her skin, soaking into mine. When she starts to shake, I pull back and check her eyes again.
Goddamn it. With my scent wrapped around Briar, all reason abandons her. Glittering pupils swallow every trace of green. And her perfume thickens into something so unfathomable, I could come just standing here. Sharing air with her.
Dane suddenly remembers how to move. His bass purr blends into mine as he steps up to Briar’s side, lowering his face to hers.
Without his mask.
Of course he’d want to properly scent her, without any impediments. But I still can’t believe what I’m seeing—he hasn’t removed that thing outside the manor since the day he got it.
His scars seem to be the furthest thing from his mind as he cups Briar’s cheek, murmuring softly. “You feel this too, huh, little girl? You know what’s happening?”
Our omega keens quietly, trying to rub her cheek over his. It’s fucking sweet. And so damn earnest. A blend of envy and amazement tightens my throat.
“It’s okay, darling,” I purr, lifting her body into my arms and letting her nuzzle Dane’s neck. “Here. You can scent-mark us anytime you want.”
My packmate groans when she leaves a swath of her sweetness along his scarred throat. Briar shivers at the sound, more mind-melting perfume swelling into the drenched air. Her voice is smaller than I’ve ever heard it.
“B-but—my—my alpha?”
She says it with a confused uncertainty that flips my stomach inside out. Is she questioning me? That would be fair, after I kept her at arm’s length. It was the only way for me to stay in control, but I’m sure it gave her Omega reason to doubt.
When I follow her bleary eyes, part of me relaxes while another hardens. Because she isn’t gazing at me or Dane. She’s peering through the rain.
At Rhys.
Of course—her Omega can’t relax until she knows he’s not going to reject her.
Or, really, reject her more.
Watching my stepbrother delight in her discomfort has been one of the hardest parts of this scheme. Mostly because it went against every vital instinct to allow her to be harmed. But also because I knew the truth would destroy him once he found out.
What happened with my father and our mothers had opposite effects on us. I never wanted a mate; but that was all Rhys wanted. I knew he would never be able to act normally if he knew she was his. And her very life might depend on our ability to act indifferent toward her.
Not right now, though. Not ever again, I’d wager.
We can’t put this back into Pandora’s box. It’s out now—and I’ll be damned if I make this woman feel like anything less than my queen ever again.
Rhys seems to feel the same way. White-hot pain blazes behind his light aqua irises, the agony so raw it reaches across the courtyard. Into Briar.
She whines again, softer but more urgent. My hands tighten on her slippery skin. Dane huddles closer, using his broad back to protect her from the worst of the rain. The rattle in his chest kicks into a dull roar.
“Shhh, moonbeam,” he whispers. “What do you need, huh? Do you want me to carry you inside?”
A visceral bolt of panic tears through Briar’s body. She jerks in our arms, a shrill, wordless squeak scraping out of her. Her eyes widen as she shakes her head frantically.
Dane and I blink at her, then glance at each other. She doesn’t want to get out of this storm? Her skin feels warm but that’s just the heat-spike. Once it passes, her core temperature will plummet.
The urge to protect wins out over wanting to please. My packmate starts to gather her into his arms and turn toward the manor. But Briar shrieks.
And Rhys snarls.
“No,” he snaps, staggering to his feet and darting over. “Her Omega is terrified of not being able to scent you again.”
Fuck. That makes perfect sense in the worst way. It’s my fault that our house is so thoroughly neutralized; and it will take a few days for it to return to normal once I remove the air filters.
Imagining going back inside, to a world where Briar doesn’t saturate every breath I take, nearly shoves me into the rut I’ve been fighting off. Dane reacts, too, his big body stilling completely as he smooths a deadly growl into a rougher purr.
Briar sways into the sound, her eyelids fluttering slowly while Rhys pauses. His light gaze scans her face for half a moment before he lifts his shaking hand. He extends it slowly, breathing hard enough to be heard over the storm.
Rhys always moves with purpose and charm, but I’ve never seen him be gentle before. And part of me knows, innately, that she’s the reason why.
He was waiting. For her. Refusing to touch anyone the way he softly strokes his fingertips over her heated cheek.
Briar’s eyes fall shut. A whimper vibrates in her chest—something I feel more than hear.
Dane must sense it, too, because he flings another desperate look at me. Waiting for my permission, I realize. As our alpha.
When I nod, he drops his forehead to her crown, rubbing his face against her sodden hair. “Okay. We won’t go inside yet, moonbeam,” he promises. “But we have to get you warm, okay?”
Rhys and I simultaneously have the same idea.
“The gazebo,” I mutter, watching his focus flicker to the structure standing at the center of our rose garden.
It looks ominous, all wrought-iron curves and ornate fleurs, dipped in solid black.
But the groundskeepers keep it clean and the warped glass enclosing the space should keep the worst of the weather out.
I lead the charge, knowing the way by heart. Dane wastes no time hauling Briar and her soaked skirt into his arms, but Rhys hesitates.
“Come with us,” I hear Dane mumble. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t.”
I doubt either of us will ever forgive ourselves either way.
But Rhys swallows hard and follows.