Chapter 27 Vespera #2
My fingers freeze. How do I explain this? How do I tell him that the girl he kissed is gone, replaced by someone claimed and bonded and owned by biology?
Ben: Whatever it is, we can talk about it when I get there. Face to face. Please?
I should say no. Should tell him not to come. Should explain everything right now via text so he can back out before he makes a huge mistake.
But some selfish, desperate part of me wants to see him. Wants to remember what it felt like to be wanted for me, not for biology. To be kissed by someone who chose me, not someone compelled by bonds.
Me: Okay. We'll talk when you get here.
Ben: Thank you. I'll text you when I'm in town. Can't wait to see you, evening star.
I stare at the message, then close out of the thread. Shove my phone back in my pocket. Splash cold water on my face because I need to pull myself together before I go back to the car.
Ben is coming to Northwood. Next Monday. One week away. And I'm going to have to tell him that I'm bonded to three Alphas who will see him as a threat.
This is going to be a disaster.
When I get back to the car, they know immediately that something's wrong. My scent's probably gone all kinds of wrong—lilac sharp with anxiety, rain turning bitter with stress.
"What happened?" Dorian demands before I've even closed the door.
"I got a text." My voice comes out steady. Good. "From Ben."
"Who?" Corvus asks, but there's something too careful in his tone. Like he already knows.
"Ben Rosen. From the Columbus program. The Beta I told you about. The one who..." I swallow. "The one I kissed."
The air in the car goes arctic. Three Alpha scents turning sharp and dangerous in the enclosed space. My Omega instincts scream at me to back down, submit, apologize for even mentioning another man.
I don't.
"He's transferring to Northwood," I continue, meeting Dorian's eyes in the mirror. "He'll be there in three days."
Dorian's jaw clenches so hard I hear his teeth grind. "Why?"
"Because I left an impression, apparently. Because he..." I force the words out. "Because he wants to see where things could go between us."
Oakley makes a sound like he's been punched. Corvus goes utterly still, the kind of stillness that precedes violence.
"No," Dorian says flatly.
"No what?"
"No, he can't transfer. No, you can't see him. No, this isn't happening."
And there it is. The control. The ownership. The thing I knew was coming but hoped we'd moved past.
"You don't get to decide that," I say, voice ice. "You don't get to control who I talk to or who transfers to Northwood or anything about my life except what the bonds force."
"The bonds—"
"The bonds don't give you ownership of my friendships," I interrupt. "Ben was kind to me. He made me laugh. He treated me like a person, not property. And he's coming to Northwood whether you like it or not."
"Did you tell him?" Corvus asks, too quiet. "About us?"
"I told him things changed. That we'd talk when he gets here."
"So he doesn't know you're claimed." It's not a question.
"He will soon enough. The marks kind of give it away."
Dorian pulls the car over so abruptly I'm thrown against the seatbelt. We're on the shoulder of the highway, hazards flashing, and he's twisted around to stare at me with eyes gone gold with Alpha instincts.
"You will not see him," he says, voice dropping an octave. "You will not speak to him. You will not—"
"Dorian." Oakley's hand on his shoulder, cedar scent trying to soothe. "Don't do this. Don't make this into what it was before."
"She's ours," Dorian snarls. "She has our marks. Our bonds. Some Beta doesn't get to—"
"Some Beta who was kind to her when we were torturing her," I snap back. "Some Beta who treated her like she mattered. Yeah, Dorian. That Beta. And you know what? Part of me hopes he still wants me. Part of me hopes there's someone out there who chose me for me, not because biology forced him to."
The words land like bombs. All three of them go rigid. Hurt flashing across faces before being buried under control.
Good. Let them hurt. Let them understand what it feels like.
"I'm not saying I'm going to do anything," I continue, softer now but no less firm.
"I'm saying he's coming to Northwood. He's going to be part of my life whether you like it or not.
And if you three can't handle that? If you're going to spiral into Alpha bullshit every time another man looks at me?
Then we have a much bigger problem than Ben Rosen. "
Silence. Heavy and sharp.
Then Corvus: "You're right."
Both Dorian and I turn to stare at him.
"She's right," he repeats, meeting my eyes. "We can't control who she talks to. Who she's friends with. We had no right to do that before, and we certainly don't have the right now."
"He's a threat," Dorian argues.
"He's a Beta," Corvus counters. "He can't break the bonds. Can't compete with Alpha biology. The only thing he threatens is our pride."
"Our pride?" Dorian's voice is deadly. "She kissed him. She liked him. She—"
"She's allowed to like people," Oakley says quietly. "She's allowed to have friends. Allowed to have a life beyond us. We can't cage her again, Dorian. We can't."
The war plays out on Dorian's face. The Alpha instincts demanding ownership versus the human understanding that what they're describing is abuse.
Finally, he turns back to the wheel. Pulls back onto the highway without another word.
But his knuckles are white. His scent is bitter. And I know this isn't over.
None of this is over.
The rest of the drive is silent. Tense. Me in the back seat feeling the bonds pull and strain with the emotional distance, them in the front trying to process what Ben's arrival means.
When we finally pull into Northwood campus, it's late afternoon. The golden hour casting everything in amber light. Students are moving in, preparing for fall semester. Life continuing like the last six weeks didn't happen.
Like I didn't disappear and come back claimed.
The pack house is in the wealthy residential area off campus. Old money neighborhood. The kind of place where scholarship students like me don't belong.
Except I do now. Because I'm pack.
Dorian parks in the circular drive. Cuts the engine. Nobody moves.
"Rules," he finally says. "We need rules if this is going to work."
"Okay," I agree. Because he's right. We do.
"No sabotaging Ben," I say first. "No using your money or connections or Alpha bullshit to make his life difficult."
Corvus has the grace to look slightly guilty. Like he was already planning seventeen different ways to make Ben disappear.
"No lying to him about the bonds," Dorian counters. "He gets to know what he's up against."
"Fine."
"And if he makes you uncomfortable," Oakley adds, "if he pushes or tries anything—"
"I'll tell you," I finish. "I'm not going to hide things from you. But you have to trust that I can handle my own relationships."
"We'll try," Corvus says.
It's not enough. But it's something.
We unload in silence. Them carrying my bags up to the master bedroom like an offering. Me following behind, trying not to think about how this house smells like them. How being here feels like being wrapped in Alpha scent.
How some fucked up part of me likes it.
The master bedroom is bigger than my entire dorm room. King bed. Walk-in closet. Bathroom with a soaking tub. Windows overlooking the garden. It's beautiful and excessive and so completely not meant for someone like me.
"Lock's on the inside," Dorian says, demonstrating. "Only you have the key."
I take it. Hold it in my palm like a promise. "Thank you."
He leaves. They all leave. Give me space to unpack, to breathe, to process.
I sink onto the bed and pull out my phone.
Ben: Just confirmed my move-in date. I'll be there Monday. Can we get coffee? I really want to see you.
Me: Yeah. Coffee sounds good. Text me when you're in town.
Ben: Can't wait, evening star.
I set the phone down. Touch the claiming marks on my neck. Stare at the lock on my door.
A knock. Dorian's voice: "Dinner in an hour. If you want to join us."
"I'll be there," I call back.
I will be. Because I'm part of this pack now, for better or worse. Because the bonds won't let me stay away even if I wanted to.
I look at Ben's last message one more time before closing my phone.
Evening star.
Three days.