Chapter 22
twenty-two
As soon as my feet hit the floor, Ryker’s big dog rises. A sigh hunches my shoulders as he tucks his tail and lowers his head—giving me clear signals of submission. His wet nose presses into my limp hand, sniffing. Silly, inexplicable tears rise to block my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to him. “I’m so sorry about all of this, buddy. It must be so confusing for you.”
He slants me a look. One that says I’ve insulted his intelligence by implying he can’t follow these threads. It’s almost sassy enough to make me laugh, but the blade of dread impaling my lungs turns my breathy giggle into a whimper.
The warm—almost toasted—vanilla scent of the pack’s third alpha swells. I can’t tell whether it’s coming from his pet’s dappled coat or the hallway. Either way, it’s stronger than I’ve ever sensed it before.
And I know, if I stay for even one more minute, I won’t be able to resist it.
I sway, blinking rapidly and reaching for my frying pan. Maximus follows me out of the guest room, leaving Finn fast asleep in a pool of his own perfection. I pause just outside the threshold, gazing at him over my shoulder, holding my breath. Shame sinks its teeth in my center, hunching my spine.
I’m leaving my mate.
There’s no other choice, though.
Right?
I pause for a second too long, inhaling his scent with one final, desperate gulp. Hoping to memorize it. Finn isn’t the only one spinning through the air, though.
That dark vanilla musk is stronger than ever. As it razes a path down my throat, the unique depth of the essence connects with a memory. One I rarely let myself revisit, partly because of how deeply it wounds me—but also because it’s hard to recall, layered over with murky darkness.
Now, I wonder… was that my Omega? Did she dull this recollection to block some of the pain woven into it?
The strength of this new scent breaks through her careful shroud, triggering a deluge of sensations, along with several details she’s kept to herself for years.
I watch the memories play across the inside of my skull like a movie, but feel every emotion as if they’re happening in the present, starting with a terrible sort of certainty.
I know why I’m here.
I screamed.
When they brought the wild alpha past my cell—the one male specimen in the entire facility who utterly terrifies me—I screamed.
But not when he roared or fought.
No. I cried out when they tased him, and he fell.
I suppose it only makes sense that our handlers misinterpreted that. I’m a beta—I’ve never shown interest in any of these alphas because I don’t have any. To me, they all seem more like caged animals than potential partners.
Roaring bears, snapping gators.
Or, in this case, a muzzled lion.
Rangy and blond, with a mane of dirty hair tousled around his hulking, sharp shoulders. Wild hazel irises thinning around enlarged pupils. He even moves with leonine fluidity, despite the binds tethering him to the opposite wall.
I watch through the glass enclosure separating us, flinching every time he bucks against his cuffs. He’s… strong. And pissed.
He’d tear an omega to shreds. Lucky for me, I’m not one. And at least, this way, none of the small omegas I spend my days shielding will bear the brunt of his rage.
He was eyeing my new cellmate with that odd recognition, anyway. And she’s so young. Fragile. I’m happy to let the handlers think he was looking at me if it keeps them from throwing her to this hungry lion.
Familiar words, honed from an entire childhood of taking punishments for my baby sister, sift through my fluttering thoughts.
I can take it.
Better me than one of them.
Besides, this won’t be my first time in the observation tank. For my first year, the “researchers” dumped me in here with every alpha they could get their hands on, convinced the “right” one would finally trigger the Omega I don’t have.
But I’m useless to them. Of course. The same way I was useless to my father.
I can’t rouse the alphas. I don’t kick off their chemically induced ruts. I have no perfume to trigger their instincts. And their Alphas, addled as they are, must inherently know I can’t take a knot.
I thought my days of being thrown to the beasts were over, but I guess shrieking about a random guy was my ticket back here.
With the absolute worst alpha of them all.
I struggle against the iron fingers restraining my arms, trying to dig my bare heels into the laminate floor. A nearby beta woman in a lab coat offers me a sympathetic glance. Their “reassurances” swirl through my mind.
Don’t worry, we left his muzzle on.
No point trying to talk to him. He doesn’t know how to speak.
You shouldn’t feel bad for him. This is all he’s good for.
I’m shaking—and I ought to be. But as I finally give up and allow the guards to push me toward the room’s open door, I also feel a pang of pity.
The lion-like alpha isn’t fighting, now. Standing naked, with his arms restrained and his head bowed, he doesn’t even look dangerous or insane. Just… defeated.
And, God help me, I care.
This man is probably about to rip me to pieces, but his pain still creeps across the floor between us. Pooling at my feet. Seeping into my soul.
I’m so stricken, staring at him, I forget where I am. The handlers shove me farther into the tank and seal the portal behind me. I trip, nearly falling to the foam-padded floor.
The alpha makes a growly noise. I have no Omega to interpret, but it doesn’t feel aggressive. Actually, it almost seems… worried. Like a mix between a warning and a hissed wince.
My eyes fly to his. Our gazes connect.
Careful.
He doesn’t say the word—he can’t, according to the guards—but I hear it, anyway. See it, really, written across the rugged features that aren’t hidden by his black-mesh muzzle.
I resist the urge to step closer, warily running my eyes over his bared body. Looking for hints of aggression in his stance. True, he’s… aroused. A painful, purple erection juts from the apex of his thighs, standing tall enough to reveal his equally engorged knot and the tight balls behind it.
I flick my attention away, embarrassed. Feeling guilty for looking in the first place.
He didn’t ask to be naked, I’m sure. And he’s stopped struggling, letting his muscles relax.
Like this, I can see he’s leaner than he should be. A man his height ought to weigh fifty pounds more.
I have no room to talk. Under the hospital-gown-style drape of fabric they permitted me, I’m equally gaunt. They pump us full of medications, and a lot of them affect our appetite and digestion.
I’m hyperaware of the handlers watching us. By now, they must be questioning why I seem to be having a calming effect on him. If I want to run out this clock and spare an actual omega from being thrown in here, I’d better put on a better show.
Staggering forward, I close more of the space between us and raise my hands, palms out. The alpha tenses, his gold-and-green eyes tracking mine. Hunted.
It suddenly occurs to me… how many insane, hopped-up omegas have attacked him?
A muffled snarl vibrates in his chest when I take my final step. I wince, trying to convey without words how sorry I am. That I’ll do everything I can to be a better option for him—but he has to let me play this up.
Please, I think, staring into him. I promise I won’t hurt you.
He freezes, breathing hard—but I swear he nods. A very slight dip of his covered chin. His eyes drop to my fingers, watching while I reach for his scarred chest.
Scratches, I think grimly. All over his shoulders and—and more. Deeper. On his hips.
He’s been hurt in here. A lot.
And these are just the visible wounds. I can’t even imagine what he has going on underneath all this physical strength.
Vicarious pain creases my features. I slowly flatten my palms to the marks on top of his pecs, wishing I could smooth them away. The alpha’s chest stutters, an audible quiver interrupting his exhale.
He stares at my hands, his eyes glazing. When he blinks, I realize the shine covering his irises isn’t drug-induced.
They’re tears.
I swallow a hoarse lump of my own and move without a second thought, sliding my arms between his carved back and the cold metal wall. He jerks in surprise, holding himself as still as a statue while I hug him.
For a moment, anyway. Two breaths later, he slumps into my embrace, curling around me as much as he can with his wrists bound. His forehead drops onto my shoulder. A harsh, torn exhale tickles my collarbone.
I squeeze my arms tighter, dazed by his reaction and how deeply it affects me. My heart aches, bone-deep anguish swelling through my entire body. Angry tears flood my own eyes.
Because this is sick. How dare they do this to him? To—to—
I don’t even know his name, I realize.
And he can’t tell me.
The lion-like alpha doesn’t attempt to speak, but he does nuzzle closer, turning his face into my throat. Sniffing for a scent, of course.
If I want to make this appear real, I ought to do the same.
Stretching onto my toes, I find a muddled aroma somewhere around his pulse point.
It’s murky—probably from all the uppers they have him on, not to mention my less-than-stellar beta scenting abilities—but I sense something warm and vaguely sweet.
Vanilla.
I know I don’t have perfume, but the alpha huffs at my neck like he’s gulping down something life-changing. His nose tickles the lobe of my ear, and I flinch. He immediately snaps his head up. Wary, worried eyes fly across my face.
When he sees I’m not distressed, the tense muscles under my hands go lax again. He pointedly aims his gaze at my throat, then stares back into my eyes, confusion furrowing his forehead.
Again, it feels like I can hear him, despite the only sound in the room coming from the sterile fluorescent lights humming above us.
His thick, dirty-blond brows lower over swirling eyes. You have no scent?
I can’t admit it out loud, of course—I’m supposed to be pretending my “Omega” will pop out any second. So I give an infinitesimal shake of my head, wide eyes begging him not to give me away.
I’m not sure how I expected him to react. With anger, perhaps. Or disappointment?
I certainly didn’t think he’d look relieved. Or grateful.
The alpha swallows hard enough for me to hear it, dropping his face to my neck again. Breathing like my scentless skin is the first bit of clean oxygen he’s had in months.
It might be, so I press myself closer.
For some reason, the steely erection trapped between our bodies doesn’t disturb me. Instead, as I rub slow circles over the planes of his back and his cock jerks, the muscles in my core flutter.
I can’t remember the last time I got turned on—and I don’t know why on Earth I feel that way now. Intimacy, I’d guess. I spend a lot of time hugging omegas, trying to comfort them, but this is the first time in years that anyone has tried to comfort me back.
The first time ever, actually.
I choke down a cry, turning my face into his throat. Hiding.
Just for a second, I tell myself. Just until they come in here and drag me away.
The interruption comes too soon. A mechanical click that sounds like the door unlatching. I brace, squeezing my eyelids shut and huddling into the alpha’s big, bared body.
But instead of an orderly rushing in to grab me, I only feel the alpha’s arms drop to his sides.
His cuffs. They’ve unlocked them.
And now he’s holding me.