21. Theo #2
Her shoulders sag with something that might be relief mixed with embarrassment, but then her expression shifts to something harder. "Thank god. I thought I was going to be wandering these corridors until dawn."
"What are you doing all the way out here, Belle?" I ask, my voice taking on that protective edge I can never quite hide around her. "After everything we've been through, who are you running from?"
She wraps her arms around herself, looking suddenly vulnerable in that rose gold dress. "I'm not running from anyone. I just needed some air, some space to think."
"Belle." I step closer, using the tone I perfected during interrogations. Gentle but persistent. "What happened?"
She's quiet for a long moment, then lets out a shaky breath. "Felix tried to kiss me."
The words hit me like a physical blow, followed immediately by a surge of protective anger. "He what?"
"It was in the library. We were talking, and there was this moment, and he..." She gestures helplessly. "It was too much, too soon. I panicked and ran."
I can smell the distress radiating off her, the way her scent spikes with anxiety as she relives whatever happened. "Did he push? Did he make you feel unsafe?"
"No," she says quickly. “It wasn't like that. He was respectful when I pulled away. It's just..." She runs her hands through her hair, messing up the elaborate style. "This is all happening so fast, Theo. The ball, the feelings, everything. I don't know how to process it."
Then her eyes narrow, and I can see the exact moment when the pieces click together in her mind. "You knew, didn't you?" she says, her voice getting sharper. "That night at the library, when you found me in heat, when you held my hand for hours and made me feel safe. You knew I'd be here tonight."
It's not really a question, and I don't insult her intelligence by pretending otherwise. "Yeah, I knew."
"And you said nothing." Her voice cracks with betrayal, and her scent spikes with hurt so sharp it makes my chest ache. "All those hours you spent with me, all that time you let me trust you, and you never once mentioned that you'd be here too. That this whole thing was..."
"Belle, it's not what you think."
"Isn't it?" She steps back from me, her arms wrapping tighter around herself.
"You let me believe you were just some random alpha who happened to find me.
You sat there while I told you about Sarah, about why I was scared of alphas during heat, and the whole time you knew we'd see each other again. You knew, and you said nothing."
The pain in her voice cuts through me like a blade. "I was trying to protect you."
"By lying to me?" Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. "By letting me think that what happened between us was just... just some isolated incident that would never have consequences?"
"I didn't lie to you."
"You didn't tell me the truth either." She shakes her head, and one tear finally spills over. "God, I'm so stupid. I actually thought... after that night, after the way you took care of me, I thought maybe I'd been wrong about alphas. Maybe some of you could actually be trusted."
"Belle, please..."
"See?" she says, her voice breaking completely. "Alphas can't be trusted. You're all the same. You say what you think we want to hear, you make us feel safe, and then you have your own agenda the whole time."
The accusation hits me harder than any physical blow ever could. To be lumped in with the alpha who hurt her friend, to see the trust I worked so hard to build crumbling in real time, it's devastating.
"That's not fair, and you know it," I say, my own voice rougher than I intended. "I stayed with you for three hours. I could have taken advantage, could have claimed you when your heat was at its peak, but I didn't. I kept you safe."
"While knowing the whole time that this wasn't over," she shoots back.
"There are no expectations, Belle. Not from me."
"Then what is this?" She gestures between us, then around at the palace. "What are you doing here, Theo? Because I'm pretty sure this isn't just a coincidence."
I want to tell her everything. About Marcus's suspicions, about the invitations, about how we've been searching for our omega without knowing she was right under our noses. But looking at her face, seeing the betrayal and hurt written across her features, I know she's not ready for that truth.
"I came because I hoped I'd see you again," I say instead, which is at least partially honest. "Because that night meant something to me, even if you don't believe that right now."
"What it meant," she says, wiping angrily at her eyes, "was that I was vulnerable and you were there. Nothing more."
"You don't believe that."
"Because if I believe it was more, if I let myself think that what I felt was real, then I'm just setting myself up to get hurt again,” she whispers.
The fear in her voice, the way she's trying so hard to protect herself from feeling anything, breaks something inside me. "Belle..."
"No," she says firmly, straightening her shoulders. "Just... show me how to get back to the library. I need to find Adam and get out of here."
I want to argue, want to make her understand that whatever she's feeling isn't wrong or dangerous. But I can see that pushing right now will only make things worse.
"Okay," I say quietly. "The library it is."
But as I offer her my arm and she reluctantly takes it, I know this conversation is far from over. Because whether she trusts me or not, whether she wants to admit it or not, she's our omega. And I'm not giving up on her that easily.
Even if it means earning her trust all over again.
We walk in tense silence through the dimly lit corridors, her hand barely touching my arm, like she's ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
Her scent is a chaotic mix of hurt, anger, and something that might be lingering attraction, and it's making it damn near impossible for me to think straight.
"This way," I murmur, guiding her left at a junction.
The route back to the library isn't direct from here, which means we'll have at least ten more minutes of this awkward tension.
Part of me is grateful for the time to figure out how to fix this mess.
The other part of me wants to find the shortest route possible and get her away from me before I say something that makes things worse.
"You know," Belle says suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade, "I keep thinking about that night. About how safe you made me feel."
I can hear the 'but' coming, and it makes my chest tight with anticipation.
"But now I can't stop wondering if it was all calculated. If you knew exactly what to say and do to make me trust you."
"Belle, that's not…”
"Isn't it?" She stops walking, forcing me to turn and face her.
In the dim lighting of the corridor, her eyes look almost silver behind her mask.
"You used every single one of my fears against me.
You mentioned your military training, your control, your ability to keep me safe.
You said all the right things to make a scared omega trust you. "
"I said those things because they were true," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "And because you needed to hear them."
"Did I? Or did you need me to believe them?"
The accusation stings because there's a grain of truth in it. I did use my training to calm her, did say exactly what she needed to hear to feel safe. But it wasn't manipulation only because I care.
"You want the truth?" I ask, stepping closer despite the warning in her posture.
"Fine. Yes, I used my training that night.
I used every skill I had to keep you calm and safe.
But not because I was trying to manipulate you.
Because watching you suffer was killing me, and I would have done anything to make it stop. "
Her scent spikes with something complex such as uncertainty. "Why? You barely knew me."
"Because..." I struggle with how much to reveal. "Because something about you called to every protective instinct I have."
She's quiet for a long moment, studying my face. "That doesn't make sense."
"No," I agree. "It doesn't. But it's the truth."
We start walking again, but the silence between us has shifted slightly. Less hostile, more thoughtful. I can smell the way her scent is changing, confusion mixing with the hurt and anger.
"The things you told me about your friend," I say carefully. "About Sarah. That wasn't just you explaining your fears, was it?"
Belle's steps falter slightly. "What do you mean?"
"You were testing me. Seeing how I'd react to hearing about an alpha who lost control."
She doesn't deny it, which is answer enough.
"And when I didn't get defensive or make excuses for him, when I agreed that he'd failed her completely, that helped you trust me."
"Maybe,” she whispers.
"It wasn't manipulation, Belle. It was you being smart. You were protecting yourself, gathering information, making sure I wasn't like him before you let me help you."
"And you just happened to pass all my tests?"
"No," I say quietly. "I happened to be someone who would never hurt you. The tests just proved it."
She's quiet again, but I can smell the way her anger is starting to fade, replaced by hope. It's progress, even if it's fragile.
"The night we shared," she says suddenly. "Was any of it real?"
The question stops me in my tracks. We're in a wider corridor now, with tall windows that let in moonlight, and I can see her face more clearly. There's vulnerability there, underneath all the hurt and defensive anger.
"Every second of it was real," I tell her, and my voice comes out rougher than I intended. "Every time I brought you water, every word I said to calm you down. It was all real, Belle."
"Then why does it feel like a lie now?"