Chapter 4
Miraya
The problem with lying was it caught up to you.
Usually after days, months, or even years.
Mine caught up to me three minutes after I told my mum that I’d been staying with friends after an alpha tried to grab me off the street.
They weren’t friends, and the weaselly bastard didn’t just try to kidnap me, he succeeded. I’d been in hell for weeks.
I parted my lips and unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth to tell Mum exactly what happened, but the lie flowed instead.
And now? Now, she said, “I think it’s a good idea to stay with your friends. I’ll invite Sarvesh to stay for a few days, so don’t worry about me. We’ll keep an eye out for any new people in the neighbourhood.”
It took everything I had not to sigh. Heavily. And not just because my mum so readily jumped at an opportunity to invite her boyfriend to stay. “If Sarvesh is there, I’ll be fine to come home,” I tried.
“No, no, you stay with your friends. It’s best if you don’t come home if that dodgy character is still hanging around.”
Dodgy character was such a nice way of saying prospective kidnapper. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to think of a way out of the corner I’d painted myself into. “I don’t want to impose on them for too long, Mum, I’ve already been here for three weeks.”
Definitely not locked in a pristine bedroom at the mercy of an alpha who bought me. Mercy was the wrong word for everything my buyer did. I took a deep breath to calm myself, and even that hurt. Three fucking weeks.
“I’m disappointed you didn’t call me, Mira,” Mum sighed, like it was normal for me to go missing for weeks without any contact.
“I knew you’d be fine, you’re a resourceful girl, but you had everyone worried.
Your auntie Teja said we should call the police.
” She scoffed. “I said, when have the police ever helped us Kishore women? They were useless when your cousin Riya went missing, and we all know how well they helped your grandma Nidhi.”
I had to clench my jaw to keep the tears back.
Yeah, my grandma was assaulted by an alpha on her way home from the market, her injuries so bad that she succumbed to them.
My grandfather was never the same after that.
None of us were. But there were similar stories every month, and it was ridiculous that it had become so normal, that my family just accepted that something bad would happen and the police would condone it.
Even more ridiculous that my mum had thought me going missing for three weeks was perfectly fucking normal.
An omega, going missing in a world that saw us as a commodity to be stolen, sold, or at best kept as a pretty, prized possession.
But that was Mum for you. A rosy outlook on life, and zero cynicism.
I bet my auntie Teja was ripping her hair out in frustration; she was a realist like me.
I’d call her, too. Tomorrow, when I could come up with a better story.
She’d see right through the staying with friends, so I couldn’t call bullshit.
Friends, my ass. I glared at the tall, scowling bastard hovering four feet away from the sofa I woke up on. I needed to come up with a good reason to go home, because I couldn’t stay here with these strangers. They’d be a thousand times worse than the buyer.
How I managed it through the rest of the phone call with him looming, I didn’t know.
“I really should come home,” I tried one last time, trying to push down the constant, acid-burn of pain in my chest. I wondered if it tainted my soul, if Sweetie’s rejection had left a visible mark. I had to clench my jaw to stop my bottom lip caving in, to stop the sob that wanted to burst free.
“Don’t be silly, Mira,” Mum huffed. “Come home when it’s safe, and not a moment before. Have fun with your friends, and call me tomorrow.”
She ended the call. I dropped the phone from my ear and stared at it blankly, my breathing strangely even, slow. I told her some dick tried to abduct me and she said have fun with your friends.
“Does she have a single brain cell?" a rough voice asked with a hint of dry humour.
I was on my feet in a second, grabbing the nearest thing—a twisted bronze sculpture of a lion—and swinging it at him. Tybalt jumped back, his eyes flaring in surprise. “One more fucking word about my mum, and I’ll drive this into your skull until your brain splatters the fireplace.”
It was a pretty fireplace, too. Dark red marble veined with black, the mantel around it home to photos, a globe, a stack of books, and a framed diploma.
I wondered if the fire worked; the room would be cosy with flames crackling, the sumptuous crimson décor like a hug.
Comforting and dangerous. I reminded myself I wasn’t staying; I was leaving right now, so there was no point yearning for open fires.
“Okay, okay.” Tybalt raised his hands, palm out. “Jesus, fuck. Shouldn’t she be a little more concerned that you’ve been missing for weeks?”
I just glared at him, because I couldn’t defend my mum.
She was the most nurturing and generous person I’d ever known, but she lived with her head in the clouds.
The cynical part of me knew it was beta privilege, because she hadn’t grown up with grown men leering after her, or family members making offhand jokes about when I’d get my first heat, or sniffing the air for a hint of perfume when I was fourteen fucking years old.
I sighed, and replaced the bronze tiger on the end table I grabbed it from. I was bone tired, but doused with adrenaline. I couldn’t stop fighting, but I didn’t know how much energy I had left. “Keep your comments about my family to yourself, asshole. Where’s the way out?”
I turned and aimed for the door, the back of my neck tingling with warning.
I waited for my instincts to howl that I shouldn’t have given him my back, but they remained at the same jagged, edgy level they’d been at since I woke up.
I wrapped my hand around the cold door handle, and growled, deep in my throat, when a golden hand slammed into the wood above my head and kept it shut.
“Let me go, or I swear to every higher power, I will fucking kill you,” I threatened, my voice deep and guttural. Rare—so rare for my voice to be like this. My omega was fuming, and not shy about letting him know.
“Alright,” he agreed affably. “Turn around and kill me.”
I whipped around to face him, my body starting to shake, my teeth gnashing as rage and pure, venomous murder poured through my veins, pumping through my heart, soaring—
Tybalt hugged me.
His voice was a softer rumble when he spoke. “Ha, tricked you. We’re hugging now.”
“Let me go or lose an organ,” I warned, struggling, jabbing my finger into his side. I hoped I hit a kidney.
He grunted, but didn’t release me. In fact his arms tightened, and a low, beautiful vibration came from his chest, pouring up his throat and into every last one of my senses. A purr.
My head dropped onto his chest with a thud, my body melting, limbs fluid, and a blissful, comforting heat worked through me like a massage, like a promise.
No, there really was a promise in his purr, and I’d never heard one like it.
Equal parts safety, protection, and sheer bloody murder.
It was like catnip. I wanted to rub my face all over him, to literally roll in the heavenly sound of his purr like my cat Saffron did when she broke into the jar of catnip we kept on top of the fridge (strategically out of her reach.)
“You don’t really want to kill me. You want to stab your fingers into Sweetie’s chest and rip out his heart for rejecting you.
You want to burn his skin off with bleach and use a rusty spoon to remove his eyeballs one by one.
You want to scream and cry and throw up, because it hurts so much it feels like it will never end. ”
My throat closed up, the acid-burn in my chest unbearable. “No, I definitely want to kill you.”
“When I—after I was rejected, I became this angry, vicious little prick. I couldn’t cope with it, couldn’t breathe without fucking agony, and I took it out on anyone who got too close.
I let the hatred consume me, let it burn me up until there was fuck all left worth redeeming. Don’t do what I did, warrior.”
“Stop hugging me,” I bit out, my voice the only part of me that remained sharp, my body a malleable, boneless thing as his purr vibrated through my body, filled my ears, filled the hollow, screaming part of my chest.
“It helps. The hug, the purr, the touch. It just—helps.”
I didn’t ask how he knew. Didn’t give a shit. Even if right now, with his arms around me, it was the first time I’d been able to properly breathe since my fated mate looked me in the eye and said he didn’t want me.
You are not my mate.
I flinched, my breath catching, and I hated that this arrogant, snarling dick felt it crash through my muscles, felt it echo through his body, too. His purr deepened, full of violent protection.
“The first day is the worst,” he said, his voice pitched low, this soft, velvety murmur that hit me with the same impact as his purr. I glared even as tears stung my eyes.
“I’ll get revenge for this,” I muttered. “When you least expect it.”
“Revenge for hugging you?”
“Yes,” I hissed, my eyes nearly rolling as the vibrations of his purr deepened even further, rippling through my body so thoroughly they invaded every part of me, found every bit of acid burning my soul, and for just a moment, swept it all away.
“You’re using your purr against me, coercing me into a hug. ”
“That’s a shitty accusation to throw at someone who’s just trying to help you,” he said, but without anger or reproach. And he released me, taking several steps back.
The pain rushed back into my hollow spaces immediately. I sucked in a sharp breath as the corrosive mate bond burned its way into my blood and bones, as the rejection tore its spikes through all my soft vulnerabilities.