Chapter 32
thirty-two
As it turns out, alternating unconsciousness and hormone spikes for two days sort of messes up your sleep schedule.
The second my eyes crack open, I know three things: it’s the middle of the night; I’m definitely not going to be able to go back to sleep; and I’m starving.
Finn is still snoring softly beside me, but Ryker isn’t jammed into the double bed with us anymore. Maximus lays at the foot of the frame, though, casting me a reproachful look when I sit up.
Huh.
Ryker’s dog only seems to linger when his owner can’t be with me himself. Should I go after the big, silent alpha? Or wake Finn up to ask where his packmate went?
I glance at the handsome man’s slack features, considering. He looks extremely peaceful—and younger, somehow, in his sleep.
He already spent the better part of last night trying to soothe me, I think, wincing. I should let him rest. It’s tempting to simply lie here beside him, but my stomach gurgles… just as a gentle patter taps my window.
Rain.
For a normal person, it might be soothing. But I shiver, a hard wedge of fear expanding in my gullet. My Omega skitters awake, whining.
We need our alpha.
I know she isn’t talking about Finn or Ryker, which seems rude, honestly, after the way they cared for me tonight.
After the heat-spike ebbed, Finn actively swallowed all his possessive snarls and let Ryker help wash and condition my hair.
Once his knot released, my well-coiffed mate dressed me in new pajamas before bundling us into this small bed…
and magnanimously making room for his packmate.
I tell my Omega where to shove her pitiful whimpers, reminding her she was the one who decided to bite a man who already has an omega. One I can still smell traces of, in here, the faintest strains of roasted, mapley sweetness.
My stomach tweaks, bubbling with another empty pang. The meds I was given after our accident must have worn off, because despite Ryker diligently shoveling three bowls of broth—and one with actual noodles in it—down my throat before bed, I’m now even hungrier.
The droplets outside begin to fall heavier, effectively guaranteeing I won’t be able to stay here without disturbing Finn. I keep picturing myself shaking him awake, asking him to hold me while the storm blows over…
But then he would lose sleep… and he might ask why I’m so afraid. Do I really want to start my courtship with the world’s most flawless man by sharing that story?
Nope.
Thunder claps, and I nearly jump out of my skin, scrambling off the mattress with a gasp.
My Omega protests, sending me images of Atlas’s worried face.
We haven’t seen him at all today, she whines.
Just a few minutes won’t hurt. And he would be so steady and calm and concerned, like he was when he found us.
Absolutely not! I tell her, stomping toward the door with a huff. He doesn’t belong to us and never did. We aren’t going to wake him up and get him out of Gideon’s bed to tend to us.
She starts to argue, but another distant roll of thunder interrupts, tightening my throat.
Shit. I forgot how often it rains during the summertime in the Crenmore countryside.
Up in the attic, behind my storm shutter, the weather felt farther away.
Is all the open space around the manor making it seem more dramatic?
Or am I just becoming a wuss because my Omega is panicking along with me, now?
My stomach rumbles, reminding me of my much-needed distraction. Before I can overthink it, I round the bed. Maximus perks up, but I pause to rub his head, murmuring, “I’ll be right back.”
I swear, this dog may be smarter than I am. He seems to understand, dropping his head with a chuff of acquiescence. A giggle catches in my throat before another sort of pang hits my gut. Guilt, this time.
I shouldn’t be laughing about anything. Not after the mess I’ve made. And the way I probably hurt Atlas earlier by having such a big spike.
The reprimand pulls my face into a wince as I slip my new robe over my matching lounge set. Both are insanely comfortable—periwinkle yoga pants, a coordinated silk tank top, and a buttery-soft lace-trimmed dressing gown.
It’s amazing how much I care. For years, I barely noticed whatever fabric covered my body, as long as it hid as much of me as possible. But now? With my skin so over-sensitized and my instincts begging me to curl up and burrow into safety…?
These clothes are perfect.
In addition to my new pajamas, I also find a pair of puffy purple slippers beside the cracked door. Nearly crowing with excitement, I slip them on right away, beyond thrilled just to have a pair of shoes. Even if they’re covered in lavender pom-poms.
The worn hallway floorboards creak beneath my light footsteps. I decide to go left, since I know the other half of the upstairs is on the right. After one turn, I find a staircase that stretches up to the third floor and curls down to the first.
Some strange tug pulls me toward the latter. I assume because, despite how desperately my Omega longs to go find Ryker, she also doesn’t want me to lose my strength again.
When the steps spit me into the manor’s kitchen, I almost feel accomplished. For a moment, it seems like my impulses have finally steered me in the correct direction.
The quiet, quaint cooking space is much cozier than I envisioned. The rest of this house may be palatial, but this room is barely larger than an average home’s cooking space, although infinitely more charming.
The patterned tan-and-white checkerboard floor gives way to hand-carved wood cabinets and matte marble counters.
We must be on the very edge of the building, because instead of more rooms to the left, the entire wall is a collection of windows and French doors, cobbled around a charming breakfast nook.
The appliances look new, but all the brass fixtures and natural oak are in keeping with the manor’s historic feel.
I spot a baguette in a bread bowl on the center island. My empty stomach leaps at the sight, and I nearly pat myself on the back for finally doing something right.
I really should have known better.
“Oh. Shit. Violet.”
It’s Gideon, appearing in the arched entrance to the rest of the first floor. He stops short, bolting upright, his own robe billowing around his bare chest and pinstriped sleep pants.
My body launches through options—flight, fight, freeze—and chooses the third one, locking up instantly. Fully expecting some sort of outburst or pursuit.
But this is another omega.
So he freezes, too.
Gideon rejects his fear faster than I do, shaking it off with a roll of his shoulders.
The cut lines of his chest flex, highlighting his musculature.
It isn’t as thick or broad as an alpha’s, but his is almost better.
More refined, with smoother angles—like the work of a master sculptor.
Especially here in the dark, where silvery moonlight ices his skin and streaks shimmers through his ashy hair.
Gideon roams his eyes down my body, too. His throat bobs before he snaps his focus to the blank space behind me, frowning. “Isn’t Ryker with you? Or Finn?”
Because, otherwise, I’m just wandering around his pack house alone.
Uninvited.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I cringe, cowering backward. “N-no. I-I’m so sorry. I woke up and Ryker was gone and it was raining and my stomach hurt and I—I—”
Gideon’s scowl softens. He takes two steps forward before stopping, dropping his hands to grip the edge of the island. “It’s okay,” he assures, “I bet you’re hungry. Especially after… today.”
Right. My heat-spike. Which he witnessed the beginning of. And, you know, scented. In his house.
The honeysuckle fragrance trickling off me is distinctly dark, right now. Gideon’s brows fold over his stormy eyes.
“I wasn’t trying to—” he starts, then shakes his head, frustrated.
“I only meant; I get it. I’m always really hungry after a spike, too.
Atlas usually gets me a big meal as part of my aftercare—” He pauses to smirk, the expression a mix of real amusement and sadness.
“But I guess Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum didn’t think about that, huh? ”
He means Finn and Ryker.
My Omega takes his teasing insult way too seriously. She snarls, and the sound flies right up my throat, surprising us both.
Oh God.
I gasp and cover my mouth, prepared to launch into another apology—but Gideon laughs.
It’s… beautiful. His perfect features fill with genuine delight while his gray-blue eyes shine. His cut torso contracts, cinching his abdominals. When I finally manage to look at his face, I find him cocking an eyebrow at me, smiling without a trace of sarcasm for the very first time.
“Your Omega is a little wild, huh?” he observes, casually picking up the baguette on the counter and sliding it across the island. To me. His tweezed brows rise a bit higher as his grin folds into the sardonic smirk I already know so well. “Well. Obviously.”
For a moment, I think he’s mocking me. But he nervously skirts his gaze to mine, as if waiting to see if he made me giggle.
Oh. He’s… joking. Trying to give me grace for what I did by blaming the piece of me I couldn’t control.
I stare right back into his eyes, absorbing the way they glow. Rasping the only response I have. “I’m still so sorry.”
He works over another swallow. All humor vanishes from his features as he nods solemnly. “I know. But it really wasn’t your fault. I believe that.”
Outside, a distant roll of thunder raises the fine hairs at my nape. My scent burns, but I don’t know whether it’s from the weather or what Gideon’s said.
His expression intensifies, a perfect picture of the most handsome consternation. “You believe that, too, right?” he murmurs, luminous eyes bouncing between mine. “You know we can’t always control what our Omegas do? And that’s not our fault?”
If he were speaking about anyone else, I would agree. I’m not sure if it’s that simple, for me. But if he’s trying not to hold a grudge after everything that’s happened, the least I can do is let him try.
“It doesn’t change how much I wish I could fix it,” I whisper. “But th-thank you.”
Gideon’s whole face softens into the sort of understanding that puts a lump in my throat. He coughs, dropping his chin to hide the kindness beaming from his eyes.
“If you ever, uh, have any questions,” he grunts, tracing his fingers along the edge of the island. “I know your Omega is new. I could… try to help.” He cocks that same dry, self-deprecating half-smile. “Not that I’m any good at this shit, either.”
Sadness shifts in his depths. So bottomless, it takes my breath away. I realize, he can’t be talking about nesting or spikes or anything trivial; he’s referring to the way he made Atlas wait for a bond they’ll never have, now.
He considers that his failure as an omega. Not mine.
My vision glosses with tears. “I don’t know,” I manage, hoarse. “You picked a pretty good alpha.”
Gideon lifts his face, staring right at me with utter sincerity filling every shadow of his features. Rasping, “Yeah. The best.”