Chapter 26
twenty-six
VARMA PACK CHAT
Finn
don’t forget to stop and get her phone set up
and she needs hair oil.
like a lot of it.
Gideon
I have shopped before, Finn.
Finn
then why do you steal all my styling products?
Gideon
Karmic retribution.
If you’d told me a week ago that I’d be at a mall, with my omega packmate, shopping?
Well.
My Alpha might have killed you.
At this point, it’s a toss-up whether or not he’ll take a snap at Gideon.
He snarls as I trudge behind the determined bastard, only mildly appeased that we’re no longer sealed inside a car with an omega who isn’t my daisy.
Violet.
It’s an equally pretty name. I know she must have tried to share it with me, at the facility, but my Alpha either liked his nickname for her better, or was so addled by all the shit they used to hop me up with, he got it twisted.
Either way, after hours holding her and lulling her into the exact sort of fitful doze she used to collapse into after our time together in the tank…
It’s really her.
My mate.
I always knew it, even when she had no scent. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t take my knot and didn’t have perfume. My Alpha may not have known much, back then, but he knew she was an omega. And he knew she was his.
Now that I can smell her, though…
The monster inside me is seconds away from the surface every time I inhale Gideon’s stress. He writhes and snaps, growling his furious desire to get away from any other omega and return to Violet.
I jerk on his chains for the millionth time, flashing him the only reminder that works—our little daisy’s tremulous features, set into a mask of pained embarrassment when she admitted she didn’t have any possessions for us to retrieve from the attic.
There were some books and pencils and really old clothes… but other than that… no, she whispered. Nothing.
Which is a fucking problem. Because I need her to have everything.
Or, really, I suppose we do. After all, my feral Alpha managed to let me ride to this godforsaken mall without threatening Gideon as he drove. Much.
Now, he begrudgingly allows me to follow Gid into the omega section of the department store. I fucking hate it here—and not just because the beast buried in my middle recoils from all the foreign scents.
It took me years to realize why places like this have been a special kind of hell for me ever since I got out of the facility: They make me feel like an animal.
Everyone else is so normal. Clean and shiny, like the endless shelves of pristine merchandise and cheerful lighting.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t even bring myself to shower Violet’s perfume off.
I’m also twice as big as most people, covered in far too much blond hair, wearing a smeared black shirt, boots that may or may not have blood on them, somewhere…
Gideon belongs, at least. In fact, he might be a little too well-coiffed for this place. While I stare stonily, he picks up three separate toiletry kits and makes faces at all of them.
Jesus. If he’s offended, I can’t even imagine what Finn would say.
Gideon does the same with robes—and underwear. That’s what started this insanity.
Panties.
Once we all agreed that Violet would stay, Finn eagerly pointed out that our mate needed clothes. I suppose he thought he was going to get to take her shopping alone. And, honestly? I hate this place enough that I would have let it happen, if my daisy had wanted to go.
But if she went, Atlas would have to come, too, or endure more pain. And she had nothing to wear out of the house. Not even panties.
That sparked a fierce monologue, wherein Gideon proclaimed that Atlas would not be going to a mall to pick out another omega’s underwear. And, in turn, led to my Alpha realizing—yeah, he wasn’t down for another alpha choosing Violet’s intimates, either.
Finn wanted to come, too, but one of us had to be home in case Violet had another heat-spike. Now that she’s awake and regaining some strength, I don’t trust myself to stay in control if I’m alone with her and she starts pumping that kind of arousal into the air.
Honestly, her regular perfume is so insane, I can still taste it. Part of me wants to hate Finn for having her first spike all to himself… but another part is grateful he could handle it. I’m not sure I could. And, until I’m certain, it probably isn’t the best idea for me to be left alone with her.
So we agreed I would go shopping for her. I assumed I’d be alone, but Gideon volunteered to help. Now, as I absorb the other omega’s grim resolve, I start to suspect—he did this on purpose.
As a test?
It’s possible. Gideon is easily the most cunning person I’ve ever met. Atlas might have more academic knowledge and emotional intelligence, but his omega is sharp. A quick mind, unmatched instincts, and the sort of ruthlessness that only comes from being a lamb, born into a family of wolves.
The more we wander around this store, the more his disposition makes sense.
Gideon doesn’t necessarily want to help; he only left Violet alone with Atlas to see if his alpha would give in to temptation.
Now, he’s homing in on every single detail here to distract himself from what might be happening back at the house.
Huh. It makes sense, I guess. What better way for him to see whether his alpha will keep to his word than to give him a perfect opportunity to break it? All while playing the innocent, pretending to “help.”
Like I said. Ruthless.
But he also seems to actually care about what he selects for my mate. Every so often, he holds up two seemingly identical options and lets me silently select one. He does it with soap, presenting two indistinguishable bottles. I squint. Scent-cancelling versus regular.
He definitely has a preference—I can tell from the burnt aroma under his own neutralizing cologne—but I answer with a sweeping wave.
Both. Violet ought to be able to decide when she wants us all over her and when she doesn’t.
Gideon reads my fierce expression and softens slightly. He nods without another word, adding the bottles to our basket.
Bras are next, God help us. As we turn toward an entire wall of lace and mesh, Gideon frowns, muttering, “I wonder what Atlas and Finn are doing.”
If I had to guess, assuming neither of them are in a rut yet, I’d say they’re probably trying to sort out our disaster of a kitchen so someone can prepare actual food. They’d better be—because if I get back and no one has fed my omega her broth, heads will roll.
The need to get out of here, back to her, beats under my skin.
I remind myself I’m doing this for Violet.
So she can be comfortable and have some control over how exposed she is.
I know more than anyone how a simple shirt and pair of pants can feel like life-changing options when you’re used to having none.
I shrug tightly and Gideon refocuses. “Right,” he says, blinking at the display. “I’ll be really fucking honest, I have no idea how to shop for bras. And no clue what size she is. Given how long she was locked up, I doubt she knows, either.”
He has a point. Without thinking, I lift my hands. Muscle memory lets me cup them the way they used to fit around her breasts—the only ones I’ve ever touched. The shape happens to align with a rack labelled “C cup.”
Gid snorts, but his smirk is more of a wince as he plucks a few different options. Some plain, some prettier, lacy things. I’m surprised again—why would he want that around his alpha?
I don’t think he knows, either. A confused wrinkle appears between his brows as he stuffs the bras into our basket. He pauses, then, his gaze snagging on a frilly nightgown covered in—
Daisies.
My purr instantly revs to life. Gideon glances over his shoulder at me, his expression torn between surprise and hopeless amusement. With a small shake of his head, like he can’t possibly believe he’s this much of a sap, he adds the white-and-yellow negligée to our stash.
I guess I must be a sap, too, because I reach over and touch the embroidered flowers, tracing one. She’ll like this, I think, and nearly manage a half-smile when I imagine her wearing it.
Gideon watches me. His face turns contemplative. “You know,” he says quietly, “I am happy for you, Ryker.”
Surprise has me snapping my head up, looking him in the eye. Sincere emotions swirl there, even as he grinds his jaw.
“I hate the way it happened,” he admits, “but I am glad you found someone who—”
He cuts himself off. Because, like I said, he’s smart. Instead of finishing, he amends, “I’m glad you found her.”
Her.
He gets it. Impressive, considering I didn’t really understand until I had Violet back in my arms. It’s something I always knew, deep down, but now I’m certain: There will never be another person for me.
I’m too tattered and tortured and just… wrong. I’m wrong inside. The things that are supposed to attract me, repel me. The instincts that should make me a noble protector have turned me into a monster.
But, Violet…
She’s always been able to handle my most jagged edges, gathering them in her delicate hands. Holding them to her chest like they’re treasured… or at least valid. She’s the only one who understands who I am, because she saw what I lived through.
She’s also my little daisy. Sweet, bright, and kind. Delicate and beautiful. Selfless to the point of utter lunacy. Pure of heart and full of spirit, despite all the darkness the world dragged her through.
I can still picture the day they threw her to my mercy.
Not the moment they shoved her into the tank, but earlier, in the hallway full of oppressive omega scents.
I was fighting for my life… and there she was.
Guarding someone smaller and weaker. Watching them hurt me with a kind of compassion I’d never experienced before.
They saw my attraction and tried to use her to make me more feral. Ironically, once my Alpha had attached to her, the handlers couldn’t get me into a rut for anyone else. And after they told me they’d harmed her… I was so useless, they wound up having to release me.
In a twisted way, Violet didn’t just see me when no one else did—she saved me.
For once, it doesn’t matter that I can’t speak. Even if I could, there are no words to describe how it feels knowing she’s alive after all this time.
At home.
Waiting for me.
It’s a fucking miracle.
Just like me, in a mall, shopping for slick-absorbent underwear.
Impatience pulses in my joints, urging me to run back to my mate.
I can’t talk to her, but that just makes me more desperate to touch her, hold her.
It doesn’t matter that it’s only been one day; my desire to be near her is already one of the strongest forces in my universe, second only to the deep-seated need to care for her.
Which is why I’m still here.
Buying blankets, too, apparently.
Gideon drapes three over his shoulder before thinking better of it and piling them into my arms. “Here,” he murmurs, “get your scent on these for her.”
See? Smart little fucker.
I take the bundle of fabric, noting how he’s selflessly selected the absolute best, silkiest material he could find. An odd lurch lodges itself in my throat. Gratitude, I think.
Whatever it is, it’s strong enough for my voice to break to the surface for one word.
“Thanks.”
Shock turns Gideon’s head. For a second, his eyes shine with an emotion I can’t place. Then he dips his chin and turns away. “You’re welcome.”