Chapter 14
chapter
fourteen
Serena rides home in Avery’s car, and I don’t let anyone argue.
When I said she gets whatever she wants, I meant it.
Even though, the second there’s more than half a block between us, a sharp pinch of pain embeds itself in my center.
By the time we reach the Bentley, it’s so bad I can’t think around it. Jonah must have been listening to all of Archer’s warnings, because he doesn’t seem surprised. He shakes his head in a you-poor-bastard gesture and slides into the backseat with me.
The ride home is silent and seething. Spencer drives, his fists tightening and relaxing reflexively on the wheel. I focus on the way his knuckles blanch to keep from groaning in agony.
Fuck .
It feels unnatural . Like there’s something being ripped from the spot where my soul should be.
The fact that this isn’t hurting Serena the same way is the only reason I manage to stay calm. According to Archer, she’ll feel the loose bond, but it won’t harm her because she isn’t the one being rejected.
Her emotions swirl somewhere below all of the pain, dull but readable. She’s still scared and overwhelmed, but she seems to be able to think now.
Avery must be keeping her comfortable because her anxiety is much more manageable—but every time she experiences my small bursts of relief, she seems distinctly surprised. As if she doesn’t quite believe I could be comforted by her comfort.
Clearly, no one has ever been kind to her. And I’m no better than any of them.
I’m worse .
Beside me, Jonah distracts himself by looking up omega courting techniques. Dates, dinners, nesting, and gifts. All of the things Serena should have gotten before someone tried to claim her.
He still wants to do those things for her now, and I’m not even surprised—under all the menacing muscle, Jonah is easily the softest of us all.
And tonight? I made sure he’ll never get to properly court anyone.
“I’m sorry,” I rasp, pressing my hand to the pain in my abdomen and forcing words out.
Jonah looks over at me, his wide features reflecting the blue light from his phone. “Tris, you didn’t do it on purpose. And you know we ruled out an omega years ago. I wasn’t sitting around wishing and hoping I’d get to pick one or anything…”
I hear a “but” in his tone. Which is news to me .
We did decide against an omega. Ages ago. With my work representing the interests of omegas in the workplace, it seemed almost like a conflict of interest for us to court one. Not to mention all of Spencer’s intimacy issues. And Avery’s rage .
… Dear God. What have I done?
My gut clenches, full of guilt-ridden misery. A second later, there’s an answering pulse of dismay. I’ve scared her again, shoving pain at her without any context.
I hate myself for it.
I’m sorry, sweet one .
I don’t know if I’m relieved or devastated that she can’t hear me.
By some twist of fate, cruel or fortuitous, our Bentley SUV rolls into the garage two seconds before the throaty rumble of Avery’s Mustang echoes down our driveway.
He takes the ramp to our underground garage without slowing much, whipping into his usual spot between Jonah’s fully-loaded Bronco and Spencer’s spotless Volvo.
Typical Avery. I’ll have to have a talk with him about keeping the omega safe.
Or maybe not .
Because instead of slamming his car door and loping off, Avery rounds the vintage Mustang and opens Serena’s door for her. Then, he stoops low to fuss over her seatbelt, unclicking it carefully. He silently offers a hand to help her out of the low-riding vehicle.
And she takes it.
The rest of us exchange confounded glances while Avery tucks her hand against his bare chest and drops his face to kiss her small fingers .
His pale blue gaze snaps up to us, immediately filling with cool rage. “She’s cold.”
He says it like I’m personally responsible for the chill in the concrete garage. I suppose that’s fair—I may not control the temperature, but Serena wouldn’t be suffering for it if I had controlled myself .
It makes sense that she’s uncomfortable. It’s been raining for most of the evening, cooling the summer heat and leaving Orlando wet and gusty.
Not to mention her clothes. Or lack thereof.
My eyes skim down her bedraggled body, noting the tears in her stockings, the tangles in her hair.
I’ve dated some of the most beautiful women in the world. Supermodels, actresses, pageant queens. That’s always been my type—the high-achieving, glossy sort of good looks that land magazine covers.
Couture lingerie. The highest quality grooming products. Bespoke gowns. Elegance, grace, and carefully cultivated loveliness.
Were any of them ever as beautiful as this scared, dirty young woman?
I truly don’t think so.
I can barely focus on her beautiful face, though. Each time I try, my gaze flickers to the angry, red half-moons clamped around the left side of her neck. An unfamiliar bolt of urgency strikes my center, along with something equally as dire that swells lower.
I didn’t think I could hate myself much more, but that isn’t true. Because the second my eyes rove over that claiming mark, a spark of desire catches fire in the pit of my stomach?—
No .
I stop the train of thought in its tracks, deeming it wholly unacceptable. She’s endured enough of my unwanted attention without adding that aspect to it, surely.
It’s too late, though. She feels my “interest” and huddles closer to Avery. He cuts me a glare, letting her hide behind his body.
“We’ll go right upstairs,” Jonah chips, tossing in a wide smile. “Can’t let our guest get chilly.”
Serena’s expression doesn’t flicker one bit, but her sick swoop of dismay echoes in my gut.
Hmm .
The emotion is so strong, I’m surprised it isn’t all over her face. Wherever she’s been, whatever she’s been through, she’s learned to keep her feelings buried.
It reminds me of myself—and, even more, Spencer .
At the moment, I’m the one doing everything in my power to repress my desires. But every time my brain catches up to my body, my eyes are already lingering there , where her throat is torn and those dried pricks of blood?—
No .
The elevator is a special kind of hell. Spencer takes the back corner, crossing his arms over his rumpled white shirt, refusing to touch anything. Avery stabs the button for the main floor of the townhome and then stiffens. Beside me, Jonah’s grin freezes into a brittle grimace.
Because her scent .
Holy fucking God .
In the small confines of the lift, Serena’s lush sweetness is otherworldly. Creamy coconut thickens the air while bright freshness swirls off her. The sweet edges instantly darken into something tantalizing.
Ave mutters a curse, dropping his chin to his heaving chest and squeezing his eyes shut. Spencer’s stay wide open, his intensity stabbing at the side of Serena’s face while his nostrils flare repeatedly. Bright interest lights Jonah’s gold gaze while it sweeps over her.
And me?
I’m dying .
That’s the only explanation for the pain. A searing tear at my center. The caving cramp in my chest. The aching pulse of arousal that stiffens my cock.
I do everything I can to swallow my groan, but it comes out as a strangled growl. The sound seems to snap everyone out of their own heads.
“Fucking try it ,” Avery snarls at me, stepping in front of Serena again. “I’ll rip your throat out. See how you like it.”
His threat barely registers. I’m too busy trying to sort the avalanche of emotion barreling through my abdomen. Mine and Serena’s. It takes a moment for me to realize?—
Spencer beats me to it. His eyes narrow at her, somewhere between accusing and confounded. “You aren’t even aroused right now.”
No. She isn’t.
She hasn’t been at all since we left the station.
This is just what she smells like. All the time .
Serena hangs her head. Her shame scrapes at my throat before slithering down to curl in my gut, joining my own. “M-my scent has always been s-strong. I’m s-sorry.”
Poor baby.
It isn’t as if she’s done anything wrong. I step between her and my brother, leveling him with a look. “She isn’t doing it on purpose.”
Avery’s jaw ticks. Just before the elevator slides to a stop, he turns and catches Serena’s eye. Something unspoken passes between them, and she grabs at the waistband of his sweats with her free hand.
For some reason, the sight of her touching him suddenly enrages me. I smother another growl, my gaze snapping back to those teeth marks. Saliva wells in my mouth. My cock jerks harder.
Fuck. No!
The first-floor elevator empties into the kitchen, right beside the hallway to the Omega Suite and the stairs leading up to the second floor. The wide space is all black, much like the rest of our home. Aside from the “wall” behind the stove and refrigerator, where a long partition of thin wood slats serves to divide the kitchen space from the huge, sunken living room beyond.
My study is off that main living area, along with the proper foyer and sitting area, the formal dining room, Spencer’s library, Jonah and Avery’s gym, and Myles’s work room.
Our valet hovers just behind the slatted wall, calmly awaiting instruction. If he’s surprised we have a mostly naked omega with us, he doesn’t let on. Then again, calling ahead to tell him to ready the suite was likely an obvious giveaway.
The second Serena sees him, she balks, backing into Avery’s chest. A fearful whimper trembles out of her. Ave wraps an arm around her body and growls low.
But I’m the one who roars , “Myles, get the fuck out .”
My packmates all gape at me, but I don’t see them. I don’t see anything but my unhealed bite, branded into my omega’s throat.