Chapter 13 #2
Sincerity coated his words. He really meant that. Whatever he was suffering from the suppressed rut, he’d endure it if I decided to say no.
Something he’d said gnawed at me. “You said before this isn’t my fault, but it’s not yours either, you know. I’ve never blamed you.”
His mask shifted like he opened and closed his mouth.
“I would’ve killed him by now.” His words were hushed, like he didn’t want to taint the moment with the name that made me flinch.
“I keep tabs on him. Make sure he’s nowhere near you.
I’ll never let him hurt you again. And when I’m able, I’ll end him for what he did to you. ”
That dark, hungry part of me flared to life. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, and asked for something I’d wanted far longer than I was willing to admit. “Can I be there?”
He looked at me sharply. “What?”
I could’ve blamed it on the heat emotions or shock from seeing the Masked Man again, but that would be a lie.
I’d wanted this, dreamed of this, for a very long time.
With more confidence than I felt, I sat up straight. “Can I be there when you kill him? I want to watch. I want to see his fear. I want him to know it’s because of what he did to me.”
Finally saying it out loud felt like plucking an infected splinter out of my finger. Maybe it made me a terrible person, but he deserved it for what he did.
Plus, squeezed in alongside the shame that came with remembering how stupid I’d been was a mountain of guilt that he could be doing it again, especially since finding out he’d done it before me, too. What if he befriended someone else, only to lead them to the same fate?
The Masked Man’s eyes flashed in surprise, but he seemed wary. “Max, getting involved like that is—”
“I know,” I cut in. “I know it makes me complicit. I don’t care.”
I was fully aware that being glad the others were killed before they could hurt me was entirely different from taking an active role in making it happen, but I still wanted to.
He was shaking his head, though. “Seeing a person die changes you, even if they are your abuser. It’s not meant for someone like you.”
Embarrassment burned the tips of my ears. He kept saying that—someone like me. I hated it. “And what’s that? Stupid? Naive? I’m not a silly kid.”
The way he stared, like he saw all of me and wouldn’t let me go, made me want to hide and never be parted from him at the same time. “No. You’re not stupid, silly, or a child.”
I looked away. “But you don’t think I can handle it.”
Slowly, so as not to startle me, he reached over and swept the hair off my face with the gentlest brush of his fingers. “It’s not a question of what you can handle. I know what you’ve survived. But you shouldn’t have to anymore.”
I grabbed his hand, intent on batting it away, but he held on.
“You’re not meant for all this darkness,” he continued with a squeeze. “That’s what people like me are for.”
I couldn’t help but hear the deep loneliness in that statement. Was that all he thought he was?
The leather of his gloves cooled my hot and sweaty palms. Tentatively, I squeezed back.
“I didn’t get a choice in being brought into all of this.
Maybe before, I would’ve made a different decision.
Actually, I know I would’ve. But we can’t go back and change it.
I’ve had two years to think. This is what I want. ”
He nodded, grave and resolute. “Alright, sweetheart. When I know it can be done safely, we’ll kill him together. He’ll know exactly what he’s paying for.”
I stared. This man claimed he was only good for the darkness, and yet I’d never felt safer, more seen, than I did in that moment. “Together,” I echoed.
Something inside me slid into place, and I realized my mind was made up about everything else, too. I think it had been since he first broke in; maybe even since that fateful night two years ago.
I’d just needed time to know it was my decision, and not something I tumbled into all over again.
“We might as well, since we’re stuck with each other anyway,” I said with a wry chuckle. I’d meant it as a light jab; an acknowledgement and acceptance of the predicament we were both in.
But his gaze found the floor again instead of meeting my eye. “I really did try everything,” he said quietly. “Before bringing this to you.”
He’d said that before, and the way he kept phrasing it itched. “What do you mean? Like, you tried to end your rut with someone else first?”
He paused long enough for my heart to drop. “Yes.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, and my eyes burned. “Oh.”
I stood and walked to the kitchen sink, looking for something to do with my hands lest he see the embarrassment written all over my face. The fact that I was so exposed and he could hide behind that knit mask was deeply unfair. Grabbing an empty glass, I filled it with water.
Okay. So. I was his last resort. So what? Why did that hurt so much?
Because he waited two years before settling, and it took me all of twenty-four hours. That’s why.
Was I really so undesirable he’d rather prolong his suffering and fuck other people first, just in case?
My omega yowled, teeth bared, when I pictured a line of faceless omegas, all gorgeous, edgy, dangerous, worldly, and better than me, waiting for their chance with the hot masked man.
Oh, God. He probably didn’t wear a mask with them. Why would he? There’d be no reason to hide his identity. He could be more open, more vulnerable.
They probably know his name.
For some reason, that hurt the worst. He’d chosen them, before resigning himself to the inexperienced burden of an omega he was forced to bond with.
“I didn’t want to drag someone like you into this unless I knew there was no other way,” he said like he was pleading for forgiveness. He’d come up behind me and laid a hand on my arm, trying to turn me around to face him.
I slammed the glass on the counter without drinking anything.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I spun the opposite direction and walked back into the living room, still refusing to look at him.
“You don’t have to keep telling me that someone like me isn’t your type.
Obviously, you’d try heats with other omegas before coming here. I get it, okay?”
“I didn’t mean—”
I wiped at the tear that escaped. From the way his sentence ended in a choked sound, he noticed.
Hurt and embarrassment morphed, evolving into something sharp and ugly. “You aren’t my first choice either, you know.”
Silence. I knew I was overreacting. What I felt was merely a primal response to being rejected by a mate. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t chosen him, or that the bond was borne of artificial stimulants.
Rejection was rejection, and the idea that he’d preferred to knot someone else before settling with me forced more awful words from my mouth. “I wanted my first heat with a partner to be with an alpha I cared about. Someone who knew how to take care of me. I wanted it to mean something.”
“Max.”
I couldn’t stop. “And I got you, instead. What a fucking joke.”
“Max.”
The ache in his voice fueled me. Almost. He almost sounded as wounded as I felt. “Actually, we haven’t tried everything yet, have we?” I continued, tongue like a razor.
I did turn to look at him, then. I wanted to see it land. I wanted him to know what it felt like to be told you were second in line, or third, or fourth. The line of faceless omegas went on and on in my mind.
“You tried fucking other people, but I haven’t. Maybe all we need to break the bond is for my heat to finally come and go. Another alpha’s knot could do that. You wouldn’t have to lower yourself to be with someone like me, after all.”
His hands balled into fists. How difficult it must be for him to picture the omega he didn’t want with another alpha. Poor baby. “Who?”
I lifted an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “Hmm?”
“Who?” he growled, stalking closer. “Who do you care about? Who is so worthy of being the first alpha to share your heat with?”
His mocking words poured gasoline all over me, even as the hair on the back of my neck stood on end—an involuntary prey response when a predator was near.
I shrugged a shoulder, not letting on how much it affected me. How much he affected me. “You wouldn’t know him,” I replied, nose in the air.
Hopefully he couldn’t smell the lie.
His eyes searched mine. So many things were locked behind that mask—the one he kept on for me. “Is that what you want?”
I nodded.
“Words.” The command was far more sinister than it had been earlier. “Say it out loud, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” I hissed, again hoping he couldn’t smell lies. “I didn’t choose you. I don’t even know your fucking name. Why wouldn’t I want to make sure I’d tried everything else before dragging someone like you into this?”
His gaze shuttered. Good. I hoped he realized how awful it felt to be on the receiving end.
He gave me one last appraising look. “I hope he makes it good for you.” Then, he spun on his heel and walked out the door, taking all the air in the room with him.
I think I would’ve felt better if he’d slammed it, or shown any emotion other than blank disinterest.
But he didn’t, because the truth was he didn’t care about me at all. It merely closed behind him with a soft snick, like a gentle bomb detonating in his wake.