21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Phoenix
O ur omega is purpose-made for my arms. I expected resistance. Thought she would push me away, stiffen at the very least. Instead, she melts into me, her nose dragging along my sternum.
She’s inhaling my scent.
Deliberately.
Willingly.
I howl with joy on the inside. Deny the urge to draw her sweet face to mine and kiss her doubts away.
I will get there with her. For now, I’ll content myself with the fact her small body is burrowing against me, seeking comfort in my arms, letting her instincts guide her to what her body knows is right.
Her sweet honeysuckle rises, pure and sweet, untainted by fear. It mingles with my coffee, creating something new. Something perfect. Something awakening to life with possibilities.
I want to gather her closer. Never let go. I want to protect her from everything that's ever hurt her, but I keep my arms loose, my hold gentle. Let her set the pace, control the contact. This moment is too precious, too fragile, to risk shattering with demands.
Asher and Soren's matching awe flood our pack bond.
They hardly dare to breathe as Emma burrows deeper into my embrace.
None of us expected this level of trust. Then she makes a tiny sound—something between a sigh and a purr—and my world narrows to that single point of contact where her face presses against my heart.
My hand strokes her arm, tracing over the sharp edges of her bones that shouldn't be so prominent.
That's why we raided the fully stocked refrigerator Cole somehow managed to fill in the few hours since our call.
The pile of tech he left in the discreet box proves he's moving faster than we'd hoped.
It means we can start our own investigation into this mess.
None of us dare make a sound, afraid to break this spell while Emma lets her instincts guide her.
Every second she allows this contact is a gift.
I hope her defenses are finally starting to crack but even if they aren't, we'll give her all the time in the world. Years, decades, whatever she needs. I’ll gladly give it all.
But reality crashes back in when her shoulders tighten and she stiffens against me, as though she remembers she’s afraid of alphas.
She peers up at me, eyes wide and lips tense.
She steps away from me, apology already forming on those glossed lips and holy hell, she's wearing makeup. As starved, battered and bruised as she is, she’s absolutely stunning.
An angel.
I have an angel in my arms.
“I…” She starts to speak, but I cut her off before she can apologize for something so perfect.
“You're just in time to help us eat this feast, Tough Girl. These two couldn't control their stomachs, and now we've got enough food for an army,” I say.
I aim for lightness, for humor, wanting to ease the tension from her shoulders. Wanting, more than anything, to see her smile. I haven't witnessed that yet. A real smile. I'd give anything to be the one who puts it there.
Her gaze flows over the food-laden counter, but then her brows knit as she stills and listens. “What's that sound?”
The sound? It takes me a moment to understand what she’s hearing and then it makes perfect sense. Soren opened the window while cooking bacon, letting in the distant rush of waves against the shore. A sound so familiar to me, but Emma…
She told us last night she’d never been to the beach. She’s been locked away for too many years and I realize…I realize she doesn't know what the beach sounds like.
Cracks web through my chest because she’s never been to the safe place she made up in her head to survive hell. And now here she is, standing in a kitchen with the real thing just beyond our windows.
How do I tell her? How do I explain that the soundtrack to her dreams is right outside? That her sanctuary isn't just imagination anymore? That, by pure chance, this house is the place of her dreams.
I catch her chin between my fingers, careful to telegraph every movement. Her blue eyes meet mine, lines forming on her forehead as she turns too-large eyes up to meet mine.
“That's the ocean, Tough Girl,” I say softly. “We're right on the beach.”
“We're...at the beach ?” Her voice cracks on the question, something vulnerable and young flickering across her features. She sounds so small, so unsure, like she's afraid to believe anything good could be real.
Her gaze moves to the window, but she won't see the beach from here. We surveyed the property last night before we barricaded ourselves into the bedroom. All she can see from here is the manicured garden and the ten-foot high security fence that frames the property. Cole wasn’t wrong when he told us this property was secure.
I catalogue every micro-expression that crosses her pale face. The way her fingers twist in the hem of her oversized sweater. The slight tremble in her lower lip that she sucks between her teeth. The rapid rise and fall of her chest as she processes this information.
“Just on the other side of that fence,” I tell her, something fierce and protective swelling in that place that’s been empty all my life.
Her pupils dilate and her scent shifts with…
hope? Fear? Both? I want to be the first to show her what a real beach looks like.
Want to witness her experiencing something pure and untainted by trauma.
Want to see joy light up those beautiful eyes.
Asher catches my emotion through our pack bond because I’m broadcasting pretty loud. I don’t care. Let them feel how much I’m longing to do this for our omega. They’re feeling exactly the same way.
“Would you like a picnic?” Asher asks, setting down his spatula. Emma tracks the movement of his hands.
“A picnic?” She shifts her weight, an unconscious movement toward the door, her sweet honey deepening. Her gaze darts back to our prime. She wants to believe him. So badly, but I don’t think she knows how.
“The beach is private. No one for miles. Phoenix and Soren can take you out. I’ll finish up breakfast, pack everything up and then bring it out to you...” He lets the offer hang in the air, giving her space to process. To choose what she wants.
The moment draws out, the fragility threatening to snap us all.
Her fingers stop twisting her sweater, and she presses her palms flat against her thighs. Controlling trembles? Restraining the urge to run? Or maybe fighting the desire to say yes?
Every instinct screams to gather her close again, to protect her from having to make any decisions after so long being denied choices, but that would defeat the purpose.
She needs to choose. Trust.
Take her own step toward this freedom .
So I wait—we all wait—while she stands in this sunlit kitchen and struggles to decide.
Take all the time in the world, baby girl. As long as you let me stand by your side, I’ll back whatever you want no matter what it is.
She nods, just slightly, like she's not sure she's allowed to want anything, then something shifts in her expression. A stubborn lift of her chin that sinks right through me. “Yes. I want to see the beach.”
Her scent spikes with a cocktail of emotions.
Determination warring with terror, hope battling expectation of punishment.
Her fingers curl into fists at her sides, like she's bracing for an expected blow, but we're nothing like Pack Carmichael.
Those bastards are nothing but mud under her feet, and we'll keep building her up until she believes it.
I can't help the smile that spreads across my face, probably making me look like an idiot but I don’t care. Every cell in my body vibrates with the need to take her there now. “You're so fucking strong, Tough Girl, you know that? Making decisions, taking what you want.”
A flush creeps up her neck, highlighting the fading bruises we'll make sure no one ever adds to again.
I take her hand—carefully, always carefully—noting how her fingers tremble before curling around mine.
Her skin is soft, warm, trusting despite everything screaming at her not to.
No way am I waiting another second to show her this.
She's waited long enough for her dreams to become real. “Let’s go!”
“Phoenix!” Soren yelps, scrambling to follow as I guide Emma to the exit. “At least let me grab some shoes for her!”
But I'm already opening the back door, too excited to slow down. She won’t need shoes. The path is smooth stepping stones and the sand is on the other side of the gate in the fence. The sound of waves grows louder as we step outside, and Emma's fingers tighten around mine.
I punch in the security code, the heavy gate clicking open to reveal a pathway through dunes .
Emma takes her first step onto the sand just past the gate and stops. She utters a soft gasp as her toes curl into the granules. She wiggles her feet, wonder spreading across her face as the sand shifts and molds around her.
“It's so... soft,” she whispers, like she's sharing a secret. She lifts wide eyes to mine and I lose myself in the color, so similar to the sky above us.
Our omega matches the beach with her spun-gold hair and summer-sky blue eyes.
“Come on. Let’s go to the water.” I guide her along the pathway through the dunes.
The sand is cooler here, shadowed and untouched.
Sea grass waves in the breeze, dotting the dunes with spots of green against golden sand.
The air tastes of freshness, salt and healing.
Each step centers her more, her head turning as she takes in every detail.
Wind picks up her hair and spins silvery gold around her.
Seabirds wheel overhead, their cries carried away on the salt-laden breeze and as we crest the final dune and the full vista spreads out before us.
The entire section of our private beach is protected at each end of the curving coastline by rocky outcrops.
No other houses are visible. There are no other access points.
Just us and half a mile of untouched shore.
Beyond the waves, the water turns to liquid silver, and sunlight sends glittery sparkles dancing across the peaks.
Emma's hand tightens in mine as she stares at the view. She’s ethereal standing here, like something from a fairy tale discovering its own magic.
“Is this what you imagined?” I ask.
“No.” She shakes her head before turning her gaze up to mine. Her glossy lips tremble into a hesitant curve. “This is so much better.”
Fuck, this woman is killing me.
A million shattered shards fall at her feet as my heart breaks in ways that will never be put back together again the same way.
I don’t care. It will reform in much better ways.
Ways that include the essence of my omega mate who will be entwined in my soul forever.
I have exactly zero fucks to give about how many times my heart is remade.
As long as it’s Emma who does the shattering.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, it’s Emma who will put me together again.
Her fingers flex at her sides, like she wants to reach out and touch everything. “Can I... can I go down to the water?”
I don’t have to think before replying. “You can do anything you want, Tough Girl. Anything at all.”
The tip of her tongue darts to trace her lower lip. My cock swells at the sight because I want to touch the same place with mine.
She takes a small step away from me, our fingers untwining before she takes another step.
I let my hand drop as she walks down the dune and onto the flatter area of the beach.
Each footprint in the virgin sand is a victory over everything that tried to break her. This…this is what shows true courage.
Her steps start slow, uncertain, but I notice the moment something shifts. The closer she gets to the water, the faster she walks until she’s nearly breaking out into a jog, each step certain and graceful. As though her body is remembering how to move without fear.
Soren steps up next to me. Our pack bond swells with light as we both simply watch her. She's everything to us. The piece that makes our pack whole. The omega we searched for without knowing exactly what we were seeking.
She has no idea how important she is. How much more she makes us. I'll spend forever getting to know her. Learning what makes her smile, what brings that spark to her eyes, what dreams she has beyond survival, but the love?
The love is already there and growing stronger with each passing moment.
“Look at her. So beautiful,” Soren whispers, his voice filled with awe. I’ve never heard quite this tone from him, and I understand exactly why. “She’s a butterfly. A butterfly discovering she has wings.”
“ Our butterfly.”
I can’t wait to see her fly.
She draws to a stop from her wild race to the water, pausing at the water's edge, toes curling in anticipation of that first touch.
Soren turns to me, his eyes luminous. “Go get our girl, brother. ”
I don’t need to be told twice. I'm running down the dune before I realize I've moved, sand spraying behind me as I race toward our omega.