27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Asher
S oren disappears with Emma down the hall, her slight form swallowed up in his bulk. That familiar twist of envy knots in my chest as he cradles her so delicately you'd think she might shatter.
Gods, I wish like hell it was me comforting her, but I'm not stupid. I know why it can't be me, why it shouldn't be. My hands flex at my side, fingers curling until my knuckles ache, a physical pain to counteract the heaviness in my chest.
“Looks like our omega's finally getting the rest she needs,” Phoenix murmurs from beside me, leaning against the kitchen island, arms folded, a weary expression on his face that belies the constant mask of charm he wears.
Our omega. Hearing Phoenix stake that quiet, comfortable claim sends a surge of both gratitude and possessiveness rippling through me.
I shove down the possessiveness; it's selfish, and I've already been selfish enough with Emma.
The ghost of my teeth against her neck haunts every interaction.
I scrub a rough hand over the stubble along my jaw, the scratchy sensation a small distraction from the guilt eating through me.
“Yeah,” I mutter, forcing my voice to remain even. “She needs whatever rest she can get right now.”
I wish being here was permanent. I wish she was resting properly in the nest we have in our pack house. The room that’s been empty forever. Waiting for her to fill the empty spaces both there and in my soul.
Still, bitter jealousy burns low in my gut.
Soren had her warmth pressed snugly to his chest all damn afternoon, feeling each gentle breath, every tiny hitch of movement as she shifted in sleep.
And Phoenix—fuck, Phoenix got to taste her lips as he frolicked with her in the ocean.
He saw up front and personal the hesitant trust bloom in her eyes when she leaned into him.
And me? I'm the asshole whose reckless loss of control marked her without consent—something she fights every day to forgive.
Something for which I still can't forgive myself.
I opened the bond so she could feel how much I hate myself for claiming her, but perhaps it’s too much for her.
She’s already been under incredible stress.
Maybe I’m only adding to her load. Feeling what I feel is driving me insane, let alone a traumatized omega.
I concentrate on the one-sided ribbon that connects us and tamper down my end.
My gaze shifts to the empty hallway where Soren disappeared, the lingering trace of Emma's scent threading through the air, wild honeysuckle mingling softly with hints of sandalwood.
The pack bond vibrates beneath my skin, reaching out for the tantalizing, elusive caress of her I don't yet deserve, because the bond I forced on her is still one-sided.
“Hey.” Phoenix nudges me lightly, breaking through the snarl of thoughts drowning me. “Stop torturing yourself, would you?”
I glance at him, forcing an expression of calm onto my face. “Who said anything about torture?”
Nothing less than I deserve.
He snorts softly, shaking his head with a quiet smile. “You're wearing that haunted look again, and I can feel you. We've been through this. You’ve marked her. Make her want to mark you back. Let her feel how you feel. The good parts. Not the bullshit festering inside you.”
I let out a tired breath and lean my palms against the cold granite countertop, head bowed.
“I can’t stop replaying it in my mind. The way she froze, the betrayal in her eyes.
” The words scrape out, raw, defeated. “I forced a claim on her. Took the one thing that should have always, always, been her choice.”
Phoenix steps closer, shoulder brushing mine. “Yeah, you fucked up. A shitty mistake, not gonna lie. But she doesn't hate you for it, Asher. Not with how often she looks at you when she thinks no one's watching.”
Something hard and aching lodges in my throat. I want desperately to believe him; want to believe I haven't wrecked any chance of her trusting me fully. Because if she doesn’t trust me, I’ve blown it for Phoenix and Soren, too.
Yet how can she possibly forgive me, when I can't forgive myself?
The truth is, I don’t just want her to want us because we’re scent-matched. Because she’s dictated to through biology. Because we’re alpha and omega. I want her to want us because she desires us . I want her to want our touch. Our company.
Our love.
I want her to love us in return because I’ve already fallen hard, fast and ever-lasting with her.
I shake my head slowly, pushing away from the counter. “Even if that's true—and I'm not sure I deserve it—I can't rush her. She deserves every moment to heal without my fucking shadow hanging over her.”
Phoenix sighs, running a palm through his messy hair before setting his palm on my shoulder, squeezing once in reassurance. “You can’t change what happened, Asher. But you’re here now. We’re here. And she needs all of us. We’re her scent-matched mates. If we can’t help her, then no one can.”
I glance at him and nod, forcing the tension from my shoulders, knowing he's right even if it feels impossible in this moment .
“You're already doing better than you think,” Phoenix says.
I swallow the lump in my throat and let out a humorless laugh. “Let's hope that's true.”
We lapse into silence, both staring down the now-empty hall. All I can do now is stand back, patient and watchful, ready the instant Emma opens the smallest door. Until then, I'll carry the burden I deserve for myself and my brothers—heavy, painful, and irrevocably mine.
“Come on, let’s get this dinner done and ready for her,” Phoenix says.
He’s right. Again. She’s too thin and frail. She needs all the nourishment she can get after years of neglect. Adding to that, shifting into a heat she hasn’t had for years will take another toll on her.
Phoenix moves across the kitchen, pulling the cutting board closer and slicing peppers.
We move smoothly around each other without speaking, falling into a comfortable routine.
Chopping vegetables, simmering sauce, the rich scent of garlic and tomatoes mingling pleasantly until something deeper, something distinctly Emma, weaves through the kitchen.
My hand pauses mid-stir over the saucepan as the heady aroma curls subtly into the kitchen, slipping in through heating vents, winding through cracks in the doorframe.
Wild honeysuckle dripping with fresh vanilla has deepened into something richer, sweeter, infinitely alluring—an intoxicating nectar woven with the unmistakable edge of arousal.
My entire body tightens, muscles going rigid as I white-knuckle the wooden spoon. My cock hardens into a diamond blade and I actually check my front to see if the damn thing hasn’t burst through the zipper.
Fuuccckkkk.
It's nearly impossible to fight the raw surge of hunger flooding my blood and settling low in my gut. My alpha flares awake and paces, resentful at being kept on a leash, desperate with that intense need clawing my restraint. The wind off the ocean wiped away her scent when she kissed Phoenix today, but there’s nothing stopping it inside the house .
Phoenix's knife stills, blade poised as he draws a deep breath, eyes darkening with longing. I’m happy to note his tented crotch, too.
He groans softly as he shoots me a wistful glance. “Lucky damn bastard. Another heat spike, you think?”
“It has to be.” Which means her biology might be clicking back online faster than I can repair the chasm between us. The doc said it might happen being around alphas lucky enough to be her scent-matches.
I force air into my lungs, fighting not to fixate on every delicate nuance of Emma’s scent—the soft warmth, the arousal-laced sweetness I’ve dreamed of tasting at the source. Hell, my body doesn’t care how hard I’m restraining myself. I'm trembling, pulse hammering behind my ribs.
“At least she’s letting Soren give her exactly what she needs.” Phoenix lifts his knife again, resuming with error-free rhythm, focusing perhaps too intently.
“Good,” I rasp, though it doesn't feel particularly fucking great right now. Jealousy tangles viciously with gratitude. A complex snarl of emotions lodge deep in my ribs. I’m glad I tamped down my emotions so she doesn’t feel this.
I have to get myself under control. Emma deserves all the tenderness that Soren gives her. All the gentle reassurance of touch and closeness I denied her in a single reckless mistake. It's a good sign. A sign of healing. That's all that matters, even if my instincts chafe and fight to break free.
I narrow my eyes, forcing my focus stubbornly away from the distraction even if every cell is tuned desperately to the omega down the hall. “It just makes finding answers about why they want her so desperately even more urgent.”
If she goes into heat, it will take the three of us to tend to her. I won’t have her in the danger she’s in now when we’ll be at our weakest.
“Have you had any luck finding this Alpha1465?” I glance sideways at Phoenix, reducing the flames under the saucepan as I turn fully, refocusing on the puzzle pieces laid out in front of us, pieces painstakingly assembled but still incomplete.
Phoenix exhales sharply, frustration shadowing those golden-boy features. “Nothing yet. I've spent hours crawling through that cesspool. Whoever he is, he's covered his tracks tight and deep. ”
“We can't stay dark like this forever. And we can’t risk contacting anyone at the precinct. Until we have something concrete, we’re completely blind.”
Phoenix nods, tension etched on his face.
“Yeah. I don’t like running blind either.
Feels like we're waiting for someone else's move. Whoever's behind this—they’re powerful. Smart. Patient too. It could be Hardwick. Or the commissioner. Or someone else altogether. But,” his voice hardens, determination flashing in his eyes, “no one's invisible forever. We’ll find them eventually.”