24. Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emma
I wake to the gentle motion of being cradled against a broad chest. Sweet sandalwood blooms around me as Soren carries me. The sea grass whispers in the wind, casting long shadows across the sand. The sky above is painted in twilight purples and deep oranges. It’s no longer mid-afternoon but dusk.
“I fell asleep.” I’m embarrassed. I wanted to enjoy the day, not let it pass me by while I slept.
In the fading light, Soren’s features are devastatingly handsome. Sharp cheekbones are softened by the smile that transforms his stern expression into something breathtaking. The last rays of sun catch in his hazel eyes, turning them to amber. “You did,” he says, the hint of a smile on his lips.
“Where are Phoenix and Asher?”
“They went back to the house. I stayed in case you woke up and wanted to remain at the beach. But it's getting dark now, and the temperature's dropping.” He adjusts me to guard against a gust of wind and I shiver at the crispness.
Although I'm quite cozy, wrapped in the towel and pressed against his body heat, the wind whips around my face and my clothes are uncomfortably damp. My skin is sticky with salt water.
“You didn't have to stay out all afternoon,” I say, the words muffled against his chest. He sat out there for hours, holding me while I slept.
In case I’d wake up and still want to be at the beach.
“There's literally no other place I wanted to be.” His arms tighten. “Having you in my arms is a gift, Emma.”
“But I was asleep,” I protest, not understanding how my unconscious presence could be considered precious to anyone.
His smile deepens, creating little creases at the corners of his eyes, transforming his face with tenderness. “Doesn't matter if you're asleep or awake, Butterfly, you're still in my arms. I'll be your chair any day.”
Soren sat for hours in the wind and sun, just to let me sleep peacefully on my beach.
He shifts me carefully to punch in the gate code, then carries me into the house.
The kitchen is warm and bright, filled with the scent of coffee and the table covered in electronic gadgets.
Phoenix and Asher sit at the table, surrounded by laptops and papers, but both look up the moment we enter and I’m hit with the full force of alpha focus.
My nipples bead and liquid warmth slides through me to pool between my thighs.
Phoenix rises, crossing to us with easy alpha grace despite being packed with the muscle thickness to rival a tiger. His lips find mine in a soft kiss that tastes like coffee and promises. It’s intimate. Startling in how right it is.
“Have a good nap, Tough Girl?”
“She slept like the angel she is,” Soren answers.
His voice rumbles in his chest, the vibrations not helping the heat that’s licking my skin. Not the heat of my designation, but the heat of awareness. The gentle prickling that skates over me because I’m hyper-aware of every little thing about him.
Asher stands too, his movements more contained. The setting sun through the windows catches the olive undertones in his skin, highlighting the dark stubble along his jaw. He removes the hat I’d forgotten was still on my head. “You got a little sun there.”
“I did?” I ask.
His fingers brush my cheek, feather-light and careful. “Just enough to give you some color.”
“Oh.” I want color. I hate how pale I am. Paleness reminds me of the entombed creature I was becoming one with the darkness.
“I'm taking her up for a bath,” Soren announces, turning toward the hallway. “She needs to warm up properly.”
Phoenix's wink is positively wicked, his blue eyes dancing with mischief. “Need any help? I'm excellent at washing hard to reach places.”
“Back off, Sunshine,” Soren growls, but there's humor in his voice. “It's my turn. You two can make dinner while I take care of our omega.”
Our omega.
It should sound wrong. Trigger panic at the least, but the warmth tickling inside me stokes into embers. My inner voice, the one with an edge that protects me against alphas, is nowhere to be heard.
Asher plants a large hand on Phoenix’s shoulder. “Our omega needs good food too. Take care of her, Soren. Don’t forget to put lotion on her skin.”
“What sort of mate would I be if I forgot that?” Soren spears Asher and Phoenix with a shard-edged stare. “And you two stay away. I mean it!”
Phoenix's laugh follows us, warm and genuine. “Possessive much, brother?”
Soren chuckles, “Don’t you know it!”
He walks down the hallway, still cradling me against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my ear makes me feel oddly safe, but reality starts creeping in and the old discomforts ooze from my broken parts. “I can walk, Soren. ”
“I'm not ready to put you down.” His voice carries no command, just honest admission. “Besides, we're here.”
The moment we enter the bathroom, panic claws up my throat. The large tub is threatening. All that exposed porcelain, all that vulnerability required. To get in that tub I’ll be naked, defenseless. Exposed.
My mind flashes to memories best left buried, yet they rise, seeking blood inside my skull.
I don’t want to feel small again.
My scent goes from sweet to burned in a second.
Soren stills, his gaze sharp as he gently stands me on my feet.
The movement is careful, deliberate, giving me space to retreat if I need to.
He kneels in front of me. Kneels . Even kneeling he’s almost the same height as me, but still, he has to tilt his head back a little bit.
His gaze is serious and so open I see the flecks of gold that swim in the hazel.
“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.” He doesn’t touch me, just fists his hands on his thighs. “I’d like to fill the tub and make you comfortable. I’m not going to take advantage of you. I’m only here to make sure you’re safe, but if you want me to go, I will. You set the pace, Emma.”
I test the air, taking a small sip of his scent which is clean and clear, containing nothing but genuine concern. The purity of it helps me breathe easier and my tight muscles start to relax. I don’t want him to leave.
“If you’re worried, I'll draw the bath, put in so many bubbles they'll reach the ceiling.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “Then I'll turn around while you undress and won't look back until you're safely covered in foam. Would that be all right?”
I study his face, looking for any sign of deception, any hint of ulterior motive, but his expression remains open, honest. He lets me study him, not moving an inch, doing exactly what he said he’d do.
“All I want right now is to make sure you're all right and talk to you without all the craziness going on.” He moves then, running a hand over his buzzcut.
“You can ask me anything about us, about the pack, about whatever you want to know.
I'll tell you the truth, always. The good, the bad and the ugly. ”
The band tightening around my chest eases and I can draw in a breath, because…because I do want to know about them. I want to hear his voice. What he has to say. I want to know it all.
“Okay.” The word comes out steadier than I expect, carrying more certainty than I thought I possessed.
Soren offers me a small smile. “Okay,” he repeats.
He turns to the tub, adjusts the taps and water rushes out of the spigot.
Steam rises from the water in delicate spirals as it fills the tub.
He uncaps a bottle, pouring a lavender liquid that immediately begins to foam.
True to his word, bubbles start to build, piling higher and higher until they look like clouds floating on water.
“I'm turning around now,” he says, suiting action to words.
His back is broad in his sweater, shoulders set in a deliberately relaxed pose that still manages to convey protection.
Nothing threatening, nothing demanding, just steady presence and patient waiting.
“Take your time. Just let me know when you want me to turn back.”
I still hesitate, fingering the hem of my sweater. The clothes are ruined, salt water and sand have taken their toll, but I can't bring myself to feel bad about it. For the first time in years, I experienced joy in these clothes. Played in them. Laughed in them. Felt alive in them.
I had fun!
The water looks inviting, steam curling up in beckoning tendrils and suddenly I can’t wait to get in there. I drop the towel, peel off the clinging fabric and slip into the tub before fear can take hold again.
The warmth envelops me, making my skin tingle and prickle as circulation returns to cold limbs. Bubbles rise around me, creating a protective barrier that smells like comfort and safety. The heat seeps into muscles I didn't even know were tense, making me sink deeper with a small sigh of pleasure.
Salt and sand dissolve from my skin, washing away the physical remnants of my first beach visit but leaving the memories intact.
I wrap my arms around my knees. “You can turn around now. ”
Soren turns, his expression neutral as he kneels beside the tub and wets a washcloth. “Close your eyes. Let me get the salt off your face.”
I hesitate for a moment, but something in his steady presence makes me brave.
I let my eyes shut, giving him this small trust. The washcloth ghosts over my skin as he traces my forehead, my cheeks, the bridge of my nose.
He takes such care around my eyes, as if I'm made of spun glass, while he removes every trace of salt and sun.
He stops and I open my eyes to find him gazing at me.
His scent blooms through the steam, spicing the floral soap with masculine notes of sandalwood.
The combination wraps around me, making my head swim in the best possible way.
Something deep and hidden inside me stirs, responding.
A thrill runs through my core, making my skin prickle with awareness.
With want. Dangerous, dangerous want.
“May I have your hand?” he asks.
He holds my gaze. Steady hazel reaches deep down inside me and stirs my soul in the best possible way. I lift my hand from the water. Droplets drip off my arm as I place my hand in his much larger one.
His thumb strokes across my knuckles, the touch gentle. Such a simple caress, but it sends shivers down my spine. His hands are strong—there is power in them—but his touch is light.
“I’d like to wash your arm, Butterfly. Would that be all right?” His rasp is sex and sin and everything I never knew possible.
Shouldn’t be possible.
Not for me.
Not when I thought every part of me was dead and I was a living husk of omega.
Turns out it was the wrong alphas.
“Okay.” I can no more tell him no, than stop all of those waves from crashing on the beach I slept on today.
His full lips turn up into something mesmerizing.
He guides the washcloth up my arm in long, careful strokes.
His other hand supports my elbow, keeping me steady, keeping me safe.
The dual sensation, soft cloth and warm skin, steals another shiver from me even though I’m growing as hot as the bathwater.
Soren pays attention to each of my fingers with the type of consideration that could be described as nothing less than intense.
The cloth traces between my fingers, across my palm, around my wrist in slow, deliberate circles.
His touch is methodical and tender, and he turns a simple task into something that’s sacred.
His brow furrows. My whole focus is on the play of our hands. His hands are beautiful, strong and capable, yet so incredibly gentle. Everything about him speaks of contained power, carefully controlled strength. His military haircut contrasts with the softness in his eyes.
He's a puzzle of contradictions I want to solve.
Sandalwood and steam puff around me. I draw in the dual scented air, filling my lungs so that it infuses into my bloodstream. I can’t stop the throb between my legs because I want those hands on more parts of me than my arms.
They way they were last night. Stroking. Easing.
Need to focus on something else.
“Can I...” His gaze rises to mine and he waits. There’s no judgment there. Just quiet attention. I lick my lips because I have to know . “Can I ask about you? All of you?”
The smile he gives me should be illegal. Hells, it probably is in some states. My heart skips a beat the way it used to when I was a teen lusting over the latest pop star, yet this is so much more than that. This isn’t merely lust. Or anything contained to the physical. This is so much more.
Every part of my being sparks to life until I’m filled with a universe of stars.
This is visceral .
Looks like open, boyish intensity is my kryptonite.
“You can ask anything you want.” He doesn’t stop touching me and…
I don’t want him to. There’s something magnetic about the way he moves the cloth over the delicate skin of my inner arm.
So softly. So carefully. Or maybe it’s the way he watches me while he does it.
As though the world is just here and now, and we’re the only two people in it. “We have no secrets from you, Emma. ”
The simple honesty in his voice, the open invitation to know them, makes something warm bloom in my chest because I want to know everything.
Want to understand these alphas who defy everything I thought I knew.
Want to learn what makes them different from all other alphas I've known as they awaken me back to life.