Chapter 47
forty-seven
DANE
I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be more unsure than me about this little outing, but Briar surpasses my anxiety by the time we hit the end of our street.
I watch her in the edges of my vision—adjusting her tantalizingly short pleated skirt, pulling at her knee-high lace stockings, nervously flicking her hair over her shoulder and chewing her pale pink lip.
I suppose it makes sense. This is likely the first time she’s been out in the world without rules, threats, or coercion. Which is exactly why I wanted to be the one to take her.
She seemed excited when I asked her if she’d like to trade our scheduled night for a day and a night. Briar agreed, but as the morning wore on, I noticed her twitching while she dressed and did her makeup.
Maybe this is too soon, I think. Should I have taken her somewhere private first?
I figured a local bookstore in a nearby small town would be a safe option. Quiet and cozy. Plus, I know she loves to read.
Yet by the time we pull into a parking spot, she’s practically vibrating. I throw my Bronco into park and place my hand on her thigh, squeezing gently. “We don’t have to go in, little girl. This can just be a nice drive.”
And I can take you home and bury my face up this short little skirt.
Briar swallows, wincing. “It isn’t that. I want to go out, I just… I have no idea how to be around normal people. And I can’t shake the feeling that I’m doing something wrong. All the punishments and—”
My purr starts up automatically, cutting her off. I start to apologize, but she blinks at my chest before leaning across the center console. I take her into my arms, gathering her body between mine and the steering wheel.
Our poor omega had to suffer so much on her own. It enrages me, knowing she had to deal with her father’s abuse and the fear she felt once they took her sister.
We have to find her so Briar can have peace. I will tear the whole fucking planet to pieces if I have to. And I’m not alone.
Rhys is spending half of his time combing through records of every hospital and penitentiary in the country, while Cillian has essentially hired an entire team of investigators.
There’s still hope. Even though it’s been a week and we still haven’t found one goddamn trace of her sister. The thought puts a rougher edge around my rumbles.
“Seriously,” I murmur. “We don’t have to go in if you’re not ready. I can take you home and we can let Cillian plan your first outing.”
That’s probably better, actually. She’s still wearing his necklace, after all. And she might feel safer with her pack alpha. Someone who isn’t a murderer.
Or isn’t as much of a murderer, anyway.
But Briar shakes her head against my throat, scent-marking me and rubbing my woodsy musk all over her face. “No,” she whispers, delicate fingers curling into my loose hair. “I want it to be you.”
Fuck. My heart. This woman owns every warped piece of it. So I suppose, if she wants to smash it to bits, that’s her prerogative.
“That’s it, moonbeam. Let me hold you. We can go in whenever you’re ready.”
Briar sinks into my arms without a shred of hesitation. It feels natural, now. The way she lets her body go lax sends a warm burst through my blood. My purr deepens and she closes her eyes.
I smile at her bold slashes of black eyeliner, remembering the care she took to paint them on.
She seems to enjoy dolling herself up to match her stylish outfits; I don’t know anything about fashion or beauty products, but I might have to learn if I want something more intelligent to say than the dumb compliment I manage to scrape out.
“You look pretty.”
Briar doesn’t open her eyes, but she flashes my favorite version of her smile—the wide, almost-goofy one. Fondness, mixed with a little dash of teasing. “Thanks, big man. You look pretty, too.”
I look like most people’s waking nightmare. Come to think of it, I probably should have opted for a mask that wasn’t so damn intimidating today. Or a bandana. But then I’d just look like a weird-ass cowboy.
Briar doesn’t notice how awkward or terrifying I am. She huddles closer and hums softly before releasing a deep breath, finally turning her head to see our destination.
The old bookshop hasn’t been updated since the eighties, but it has the small-town charm the rest of this tiny hamlet does. A faded kind of beauty—withered ivy and sun-bleached bricks. Rusty wrought-iron fencing and a few empty window boxes.
Shit.
“Maybe I should have taken you into the city instead,” I grumble. “But it’s loud and crowded there. Plus, it’s easier to keep you safe here, so I—”
Briar’s mouth lands on my cheek, cutting me off. It’s an innocent gesture of appreciation, but my knot starts to inflate.
She pulls back with another dazzling smile. “You might be the cutest man alive.”
I blink, dazed. Reaching for the only argument I have. “I’m a monster.”
“Yeah.” She grins wider, popping my car door open with a shrug. “But a really fucking cute one.”