Chapter 21
twenty-one
I have two kinds of dreams: bad and worse.
The bad ones are predictably horrifying. Fear. Pain. Flames.
But the worse ones…
I tumble out of the nightmare with a sharp inhale, immediately rolling to my feet. Images sift through my mind, each one stinging viciously.
The flickers of happiness hurt more than pain ever could. They remind me what I lost. Ruined. Killed. Burned.
This is why I hate having omegas in the house. Their scents trigger memories I fight to forget every waking hour. The times I was attacked and assaulted—but also the rare moments of contentment I had with the only omega I’ll ever love.
Daisy.
I can’t tell if her name is what has my Alpha so riled up, or something else. I refuse to believe it could be the intruder’s scent. The combination of honey, flowers, and some glowing lightness I can only describe as… sunshine?
It makes no sense. How can I smell her all the way on the other side of the manor? Why is it so strong?
I had a mate.
She died.
I can’t possibly have another one… right?
No, my Alpha grunts, but he still forces me into the shadowy hallway, giving me as little say in the matter as he does when it comes to speaking.
Where the fuck is Maximus?
He usually wakes up from my bad dreams before I do. I swear to God, if that traitor is still in the strange omega’s room…
He must be. He’d never go near the others without my permission, except for maybe sneaking a few pets off Gideon. As I lumber down the passageway that cuts across the second floor, I try to summon my voice to call him. My Alpha has my collar strapped tighter than usual, though.
The fact that I want to believe it’s a coincidence is troubling enough. I should know better. Guard harder. Refuse to even fucking breathe in this hallway, with all its—
Shit.
Fuck.
Omega, the beast inside me huffs, pawing at the pit in my stomach. I drown out his next statement with a furious growl, rejecting the words.
It don’t care what my Alpha thinks this random omega means to us. I don’t care. I gave the shredded remains of my soul away a long time ago—and it never mattered that the woman I lost wasn’t necessarily my scent-match. I consider her my mate in every way that’s ever meant anything.
So why am I here?
Inhaling absolute perfection.
I hate that the scent is gentle. I wish it would penetrate. Slice. Pillage. Demand. Give me a reason to recoil.
But it doesn’t pummel into my lungs the way others might. No. It tiptoes. Winds lazy circles, and stretches in tantalizing curls. Floral and sweet, somehow. Edible, but only just. Perfumed, but still mouth-watering.
There’s a top note of gold. Sunshine and depth and warmth. As if someone distilled a summer afternoon and poured it on top of—
Honeysuckle.
I have to get closer.
I have to leave now.
My body sways as I stagger, caught between surging forward and retreating. I nearly trip over my footsteps before I decide to turn back. It’s too late, though.
I’m too late.
Because a slight feminine figure darts out of the guest room.
Soft dawn shadows obscure her features, but the weak light from the window behind me catches an impossibly long flash of blonde hair, swinging down her back… and the subtle metallic sheen of a—frying pan in one hand?
The woman’s tiny purple slip rides up as she peers over her shoulder, sparing her borrowed bed one final glance. Distinct sadness slumps her posture, her chin dipping as shame and sorrow singe the wildflowers twined through her fragrance.
Good God.
I hate it.
Her obvious suffering puts a fucking canyon in my middle. Stretching wide and pulsing. Demanding I fill it with her happiness instead of this pain.
My heart kicks into overdrive, beating so hard, I feel it in my teeth. The woman exhales quietly, still oblivious to her audience.
And I know I should go. Move. Run.
But instead, I hold my breath and wait for her to turn toward the light.
Maximus appears, darting out of the room and coming right to me. Circling my legs before he wisely chooses the spot behind me, not daring to put himself between us.
I realize his motive when the little omega’s gaze follows him.
To me.
A cascade of shining hair spills over her frail arm as she finally pivots… and freezes. Prey caught in the thrall of a predator.
I feel like one, at the moment. Every feral urge I’ve spent years fighting snaps to the forefront. The impulse to rut thumps, thick and hot, through my veins. Beating at my wrists. My throat. The backs of my knees. Filling my knot for the first time in as long as I can remember.
My Alpha moves me forward without permission. I take two stalking steps. Without my bulk to block it, the faint glow from the window sweeps into the hall.
Gentle beams hit the omega’s face. Her pointed, trembling chin. Her cracked petal-pink lips. The sort of softness that’s baked into her ethereal features, no matter how gaunt they are, now.
Beautiful.
Impossible.
How can it be—
The thought won’t compute. Even asking feels insane. Yet, her dark blonde lashes flutter, revealing painfully gorgeous, utterly unmistakable—
Green eyes.
I blink. My chest heaves.
Because I know those eyes.
And that face still haunts my dreams.