Chapter 34
thirty-four
It was bound to happen eventually.
Even though I knew this arrangement wasn’t sustainable, I hoped I might get away with basic avoidance. A silly notion, to be sure. How could I possibly beat thousands of years of evolutionary biology?
Turns out, I can’t.
“Oh!”
The sound is less of an exclamation and more of a squeak. It stops my meandering footsteps, kicking up a small spray of pea gravel and a larger cloud of dust.
Damn it.
We really do need a gardener.
The omega tucked around the corner of our manor, sitting in the dirt, isn’t the one I expected to find. Instead of Gideon’s ashy brown hair, endless loops of shining gold reflect the morning light. Bouncing as Violet scrambles backward on her hands.
I recoil, too, immediately turning my head to look for Gideon. When I don’t find him anywhere, a swift bolt of shame socks me in the stomach. Then doubles as Violet’s honeysuckle essence gently winds around me.
Fucking hell. I only came outside because I was looking for my omega. I had some thoughts about items Violet might enjoy, but I wanted his permission before I gave her anything. I planned on asking before handing the small stack under my arm to Finn. Letting him present the gifts to Violet.
Gideon isn’t out here, though.
I should have known. As I made my way outside, the pulsing pain at my center slowly dissipated. Now, it’s barely a muted ache.
What happened two days ago may not be my fault, but this is. I have to be more vigilant. I can’t just listen to my Alpha and his urges anymore.
Christ, even this very second… I’m leaning toward her. Gritting my teeth, I snap upright, hiding the things in my hands behind the small of my back.
Self-loathing seethes under the urgency beating in my chest. How could I have possibly misread Gideon’s scent? It so clearly led me out here.
I don’t have time to figure out why. Violet may not be able to feel my emotions with my new walls plastered between us, but she can scent me just as keenly as I sense her. When my essence darkens with shame and frustration, she flinches, then shrinks down.
Cowering.
Every particle in my body freezes. A whole different kind of pain impales my center, twisting.
Because she may never be my omega.
But she’s always going to be my mate.
And I terrify her.
There are a thousand platitudes I could offer myself. Steadying little truths I would present any patient in my position. They skitter through my mind—it isn’t just you; she’s scared of all alphas after what she’s been through; her Omega trusted you enough to bite you.
None of them sink in. They float on the tumultuous sea of my thoughts. Tossing and colliding. Fragmenting. Churning into rip currents full of other, darker facts.
None of this is her fault.
I’ve barely been kind to her.
She’s touch-starved and too scared to ask me for help.
Even if she had the courage… I’d say no.
I’d have to say no.
My throat is dry, but I can’t swallow. My chest heaves, but I don’t seem to be breathing.
I’ve been so focused on making this okay for Gideon, I didn’t stop to think about what that would actually mean.
Rejecting her. Actively acknowledging her needs and turning away. Knowing how to help but choosing not to.
It goes against every fiber of my being. The same way touching her and hurting Gideon would.
But I can’t have both of them. And I made a vow—one that I anchored to the bottom of my soul long before Violet’s tether wove itself into the place beside it.
Violet watches me from her crouched position, equal parts trembling wariness and stark sorrow. A final thud of devastation hits my heart. I force a deep exhale, trying not to let my eyes fall closed. Doing everything I can to hold my anguish in check, instead of burdening her with it.
“Here.”
The word is a rasp, raked over a purr I fight to bury. Shifting the meager gifts from my left hand to my right, I offer my empty palm to help her stand.
Violet watches me extend my unbitten arm, blinking. She ducks her head as she slips her fingers into mine, hiding her face. Once I’ve pulled her to her feet, I see the tears wetting her lashes.
“I-I’m sorry,” she whispers, keeping her chin tucked. “I-I’ll go back inside. I w-won’t come out again.”
My mind screeches to a halt. She thinks I’m upset because she’s outside?
The absurd notion nearly knocks me back a step. Then I realize—she’s probably never been allowed to simply walk outside. Ever.
I’ve used the last two days to do a lot of research on various things. One of which was her. And as I slowly filled in all the blanks Cillian and his pack omitted when they gave us a brief rundown of Briar and Violet’s upbringing, one detail became all too clear.
This woman has been a prisoner from the day she was born.
Whether she was created or taken from some real family, she was never free. The man who posed as her father turned her into a test subject—one he leased out the second it seemed he wouldn’t get his money’s worth. Then, when it looked like she might actually be an omega after all, he took her back.
Ryker spent years blaming himself for losing his daisy.
I’ve decided it’s likely best not to tell him he was partially correct.
Before Violet connected with him, their facility had no reason to believe Dr. Brynn’s claims that his “daughter” was actually an omega.
Once they saw how much she cared for Ryker, though…
She was kicked through a series of even worse places after they increased her designation value. They told Ryker she had been put down as a punishment for him. But, from what I can tell, that story was just a convenient cover-up. Intended to hide a fate worse than death.
By the time her father returned her to his custody last year, she’d been locked inside four facilities in as many years.
Yet another reason not to tell Ryker. We don’t need any more arson on his record. Though, Lord knows he would happily add to the list for Violet’s sake.
I curl my fingers around the small omega’s, ignoring the way our frayed tether sings when we touch. This is too important—I need her to know I mean every word as I squeeze her hand.
“You may come outside whenever you wish,” I promise, infusing every word with alpha dominance as I hold her watery green gaze. “You can go anywhere you want, Violet. I will never stop you.”
Her tension gradually drains away, leaving her face pale and solemn. My stomach flips when she nods, looking so… lost.
“O-okay. S-sorry.”
Her tendency to apologize for no reason might be endearing, if it didn’t chip another chunk out of my heart. I drop her hand before I wind up pulling her closer, and do my best to smile convincingly.
“It’s very good for omegas to spend time outside,” I tell her, forcing a wave of alpha approval. “Now that he’s not working, I’m constantly trying to get Gideon to go on hikes.”
He hates nature, my little prince. Last time I suggested we hit some nearby trails, he pouted for hours. I smile at the memory. “He always says he’s only outdoorsy when there’s brunch on a patio involved. Or champagne on a balcony.”
It’s the first bit of connection I’ve ever offered Violet. Platonic, and centered on Gideon—but she accepts it with a shy, gracious smile of her own.
“I can picture him saying that,” she murmurs. “He’s very funny.”
My brows pinch. How does she know? Has Gideon been talking to her?
I get my answer when the wind shifts, releasing a waft of maple perfection from her robe.
Good holy God.
It’s not just his scent. It’s both of them. Layered together.
My spine stiffens as my Alpha lunges, trying to break to the surface. I’m sure my own essence darkens as my pupils expand, flickering to her grass-stained cover-up.
Violet watches and winces, swaying. “It’s not his fault,” she rushes. “I couldn’t sleep, so I was in the kitchen in the middle of the night, and Gideon came in and he—we— We were just talking. Then he brought me outside, and we— I hugged him. That’s all.”
I’m shocked he let her hug him. My prince is the least affectionate omega I’ve ever met. I’m the exception to all his rules, but generally?
Blackwoods don’t hug, he once claimed, glowering viciously.
At the time, I believe he was shoving a drunken Finn away from him at a New Year’s party. But still.
My eyebrows arch. Violet sees my expression and bites her lip, muttering, “Is that bad? That’s probably bad, right?”
Christ, but she’s adorable. The rambling. Her big, earnest eyes. The disheveled blonde waves flowing over her rumpled pajamas. The way she’s gotten dirt on her backside and her fluffy purple slippers, but she hasn’t even noticed.
I have to replay her words before I can focus on a reply. “Not bad,” I hedge, then allow a sardonic smirk. “Though, if my omega is going to start accepting hugs from other people, I might have to work on my possessiveness a bit more.”
Violet’s laughter is as light and gentle as spring rain. The warm mist sprinkles over the part of my soul that aches to step closer. I fist my hands, clinging to control.
My fingers can’t close all the way, though—I’m still holding a notebook and a carved wooden pencil box.
They were the only things I could think to give her. After seeing the hundreds of sketches etched into the walls of her attic, I know she must like to draw. And, if the few images I remember are any indication, she’s incredibly talented.
Would Gideon mind if I gave her these? He was with her for half the night, it sounds like. He let her hug him…
Violet notices the ponderous way I consider the objects in my grasp and looks down at them. A quiet gasp forces my eyes to hers.
“Is that a sketchbook?”
Sure enough, her jade irises glitter with pure longing. It pours through our bond, too. Which is when I note: I haven’t felt every shift inside her this morning.
She must have used her time out here to figure out how to put her own doors up… and how to open them when she wishes.
The bittersweet realization thickens my throat, along with the heartrending hope in her eyes. I swallow hard, thrusting my insufficient offerings toward her.