Chapter 9
The smell of food snaps me out of a restless sleep.
An unfamiliar ceiling greets me before memories of last night come rushing back.
My contact.
The ambush.
The safe house.
Aaiden’s mouth on mine.
Then panic, humiliation, and going to bed alone, yet again.
I listen to the subtle sounds filtering through the wall of a pan sliding across a burner, water running, and the soft thump of a cabinet closing.
My body aches as I push myself upright, my muscles stiff. The wound in my side pulses with dull pain, and when I glance down at myself, I’m still wearing the clothes from yesterday, minus shoes and socks. The sheets twisted around me offer evidence of fitful sleep rather than real rest.
I pull myself to my feet and drag a hand through my hair, trying to smooth down the damage. Every instinct tells me to stay hidden in this room and avoid the coming conversation, but I’ve never been good at hiding.
The door swings open on well-oiled hinges under my hand, and the scent of coffee and eggs grows stronger.
I step into the front room of the safe house. Sunlight streams through the reinforced windows, warming the beige walls, but doing nothing to lessen the depression from last night.
Aaiden stands at the small stove, back to me, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His suit jacket hangs over a nearby chair, and his shirt, a different one than he wore last night, stretches across his shoulders as he scrambles eggs.
I hover in the doorway, waiting for him to speak. To issue a Command. To remind me of my failure. When he remains silent, I shuffle toward the table and pull out a chair, the legs scraping across the floor.
Aaiden turns, giving nothing away as he carries a plate to the table. He sets it in front of me, the plate filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. A glass of orange juice appears beside it a moment later.
I stare at the food, then at him, waiting for him to bring up last night’s failure.
It doesn’t come.
Aaiden strides to the coffeepot, pours himself a cup, and leans back on the counter, giving me space without leaving the room.
I remain frozen, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“You need to keep your strength up,” Aaiden says at last.
I pick up the fork and take a tentative bite of the eggs, surprised by how hungry I am. The food is simple but good, and each mouthful drives home how empty I’ve been, running on anger and adrenaline for too long.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” I mumble around a bite of crispy, melty bacon.
He sips his coffee and watches the street through the window. “Your mom taught me.”
Should I feel guilt or shame at the reminder that my mom practically raised Aaiden and the rest of the Rockfords? Is this his way of reminding me of the complications of being together?
I don’t care. I want him, and everyone else, including him, will have to get over it.
I eat, taking long drinks of juice between bites, until I surprise myself and finish everything on the plate.
Aaiden waits until I set down my fork before he meets my eyes, and there’s a…not softness, but more…acceptance there?
A knot forms in my stomach as I wait to find out what conclusion he came to while sleeping alone on the couch.
“What we’ve been doing isn’t working,” he says.
I stare, sure I misheard him. It’s not an apology. Aaiden Rockford doesn’t apologize. But it’s an acknowledgment, which from him might be worth more.
“No,” I agree cautiously. “It’s not.”
He sets his mug down. “So, we try something different.”
A tremor goes through me, and I flatten my palms on the table. A change in approach doesn’t mean Aaiden is giving me what I want. But it means he’s willing to compromise.
My tongue comes out to wet my bottom lip, tasting the salt from the bacon there. “What does that mean?”
He catalogues every micro-reaction I can’t hide. “What do you need?”
My lips part, but before I can speak, he holds up a hand. “Not sex.”
I twitch with irritation, but we can circle back to the sex topic later. “Your rules need to change.”
He rolls his wrist. “Go on.”
I take a breath, organizing my thoughts before I speak. This is too important to fumble. “I’ll follow your timeline. Your structure. Your plans for my missions. I won‘t go off-script again.”
A slight startle of surprise indicates he wasn’t expecting my concession. But he waits, knowing there’s more.
“But you stop keeping your distance.” The words hang between us, heavy with months of frustration. “No more treating me like I’m made of glass. No more pulling away the second I react to you.”
“I already said no sex today.”
No, he’d said no sex. Period. And the new qualifier tells me just how much his control has frayed.
“I’m not talking about sex. At least, not right now,” I add, because I need him to know this isn’t permanent. I’m not giving up on what my body wants, even if it’s confused about how to get there.
Aaiden inclines his head, accepting my amendment without comment.
“Just…” I search for the right word to encompass everything I need. “Contact.”
I catch a flicker of understanding from Aaiden.
“No one touches me anymore,” I continue, a tremble taking over my body. “Not my mother. Not anyone in the manor. They’re all too careful, too afraid of breaking what’s already been broken.”
My skin itches at this level of vulnerability, but I force myself to continue. He needs to understand what I’m asking for.
“I need to be touched, Aaiden.” The words burn on their way out, but my chest loosens the second they’re free. “I need it to function.”
His focus never wavers, and I see no pity there, which is the only reason I can continue.
“And I need you to stop half-assing how you interact with me.” I dig my fingers into the tabletop until my joints ache. “Either claim me or stop pretending you have any say in what I do. These halfway measures are worse than nothing.”
Aaiden weighs my words against whatever principles he’s constructed to govern his behavior toward me, and when he speaks again, he’s quieter, but no less certain. “I won’t touch you before you’re ready, Jade.”
“I’m telling you I’m ready now,” I counter without flinching.
A muscle in his jaw works. “And last night?”
My stomach clenches, but I refuse to look away. “Last night proves I need structure. Boundaries. Clear lines.” I lean forward. “It proves I need to know where I stand with you.”
Aaiden straightens from the counter, his full height imposing even from across the room. “If I start, I don’t do it halfway.” He drops into that Alpha timbre, not Command, not yet, but a warning of what’s to come. “You will obey me, and if you don’t, I will punish you.”
My mouth goes dry at his words, but not with fear.
“No hiding behind your pain. No using your trauma as a shield when you don’t like my decisions,” he says without flinching. “Complete transparency. Complete obedience.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” His focus pins me in place. “Because once we start this, there’s no going back to how things were. No more cat and mouse. No more pushing boundaries to see if I’ll break.”
I meet his intensity with my own. “I told you I don’t want to go back.”
“And when your body rejects me?” he asks.
The question stings, but I don’t flinch. “Then you’ll know where the line is, and we’ll work from there.” I take a breath. “But you don‘t get to use it as an excuse to pull away.”
Aaiden gives my words careful consideration. “Nothing sexual happens until you’re ready. That’s non-negotiable.”
“Fine.” I can live with this condition. “So long as you believe me when I say I am ready.”
“But other contact…” He pauses, and for the first time this morning, I see a crack in his perfect composure. “That starts now.”
I push back from the table, and I step toward Aaiden, closing the distance between us until his scent fills my lungs, and the heat radiating from his body burns me.
Aaiden doesn’t move. His breathing remains steady, his posture perfect as always.
The seconds stretch, pulling tight between us. My skin prickles with awareness, every nerve ending attuned to him. I don’t back away. Don’t push closer. Just stand and wait.
Aaiden reaches out with intention, nothing like the instinctive grab from last night. His fingers wrap around my wrist, settling into place as if they belong there.
The simple contact jolts through me like electricity. His grip is firm without being forceful, his thumb settling over my pulse point where the blood rushes beneath the surface of my skin.
My breath stutters, body going still under his touch. My pulse jumps beneath his thumb, but I resist the desire to demand more right away.
Aaiden searches for any sign that this is too much.
When panic doesn’t come, his grip tightens, becoming more forceful, and a shuddering sigh escapes me as I sink into it.
“This is what you want,” he says with certainty.
“Yes,” I choke out, the simple touch of his hand on my wrist more intimate than his lips had been last night, more significant because, this time, he chose it first.
Aaiden holds me there for another beat, two, three. His thumb traces a small circle over my pulse point, so subtle I almost think I imagined it. Then he releases me.
I exhale, the restlessness inside me settling for the first time since I was taken. The hollow ache that’s lived in my chest for months doesn’t vanish, but it shrinks, becoming manageable.
Warmth lingers on my wrist where he touched it, the ghost of his grip lingering on my skin. I stop myself from raising it to my nose to search out his pheromones on my skin. That, I’ll save for when I’m alone.
“I’ll follow your rules,” I say, no longer wanting to fight him. “I meant what I said about the missions. Your timeline, your structure, your methods.”
Aaiden inclines his head, accepting my terms with the same seriousness he approaches everything. “We’ll start the planning today. Warehouse 18 is no longer on our list, but we have a new lead to follow.”
“And the rest?” I demand, needing him to acknowledge the other half of our agreement out loud.
“You’ll sleep in my bed tonight,” he growls, and heat pools in my hips. “I need to know where you are. To hear you breathe.”
The prospect of lying beside him all night, separated by mere inches, brings on a hot flush. “Okay.”
“And you’ll tell me when it becomes too much.” This comes out firmer, non-negotiable. “No hiding your reactions. No pretending you’re not affected, when I know you are.”
“Only if you promise the same,” I counter. “No more pretending you don’t want me when we both know you do.”
The corners of his lips tighten, but he doesn’t deny it. “Agreed.”
Aaiden moves to the sink, rinsing his coffee mug. “Go get ready. We leave in twenty minutes.”
“Okay,” I reply and turn toward the bedroom to find my socks and shoes.
As I pass him, our arms brush, and Aaiden doesn’t pull away this time.
It’s a small thing, hardly worth noticing. And yet it’s the first real step toward everything I’ve wanted since I first presented as an Omega.
Not only being claimed, but being seen. Being chosen.
Being Aaiden’s Omega.