Chapter 34 #2
“Yes,” I start. “I saw your work—on your walls. As I’m sure you know, art therapy is a highly effective means of externally processing trauma—”
I cut myself off when I realize I’m about to begin rambling, too. With a grimace, I clear my throat. “Anyway. These are from Gideon’s craft room. It’s on the third floor, above your bedroom, fully stocked with paints, canvases, paper goods. I’m sure you’d be welcome to use anything in there.”
That much is true. My prince enjoys art about as much as he likes hiking.
Violet takes the sketchbook like she’s peeling a piece of pure gold from my palm. Reverence beams in every line of her pretty features while she marvels at the thick, matte pages sandwiched between the light blue leather cover.
I set a carved wooden pencil box on top, carefully avoiding another touch. “This is full of artist-grade implements—colored pencils, charcoals, oil crayons…”
Hell. I’m doing it again. Finding unnecessary words to say, because each one is an additional second I get to stand here.
It’s unacceptable, of course. I have to go inside and find—
Gideon.
He comes trudging up the overgrown walkway from the front of the property, ducking under a dried-out wisteria vine clinging to our stone fence. His expression is predictably grumpy, given he’s wearing the special joggers and sneakers I bought him.
And yet… he went hiking. Outside. Without my goading.
The moment he sees Violet and me clustered together, his steps slow—and the maple-pecan perfume winding our way burns a fraction.
Normally, that shift would be enough for me to whisk him upstairs. Not to mention how damn perfect he looks, shirtless and misted with sweet sweat. Buttery morning light bounces off his carved shoulders and chest, highlighting the fine-boned features I adore.
For a moment, my insides automatically brace, preparing to hide the pain pulling at the edge of every thought. Then I remember—there is none. Not with Violet looming mere inches away. Especially now, with Gideon coming toward us.
I expect him to bat her aside with a glare or maybe even a growl. Instead, he purposefully navigates around us, coming to my other side and leaning up for a kiss.
I’m so stunned, I barely react. He knows he’s throwing me off and uses the opportunity to hover with his lips against mine for an extra moment. Teasing me.
Of course. My prince loves to misbehave in the subtlest ways.
He tosses me a smug look as he pulls back. The knowing smirk sends a snap of electricity through my veins. It doubles when he adds, “Good morning, alpha.”
All false innocence. The polar opposite of Violet’s earnest cluelessness when she glances from his face to mine. Panic quickly replaces her bemusement. She opens her mouth, likely preparing to bumble through another unnecessary apology—
But Gideon smiles at her.
Not a smirk. Not a sneer. Not even a brittle, stabbing-you-mentally smile.
In fact, as he notes the dirt smeared on her robe, his features fill with begrudging… fondness. “Oh boy,” he chuckles. “Don’t let Finn see what you did to that silk, Vi. His heart will stop.”
Violet bobs her head, widening her gaze, like she’s truly absorbing his nonsense advice. “Right. Got it.”
Gideon’s smile widens into the most stunning grin. Genuine and full of joy I so rarely see on him. My pulse actually stammers at the sight—then stops altogether when he reaches over and tucks a stand of Violet’s hair behind her ear. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I got you some new hair ties yesterday,” he says just as casually.
“They’re in your room. There are lots of dresses and shoes, too, if you want to change.
Make sure to hide the evidence of your crimes against luxury fabric at the bottom of your hamper.
Maybe put something distracting on top, like your panties. ”
Violet laughs, the sound just as lilting and enchanted as it was the first time I heard it. “Good idea,” she replies. “I’ll just… go do that.”
She starts to retreat, but pauses, holding up her new sketchbook and finding my gaze. “Th-thank you, Atlas.”
Inside my chest, under my lungs, a swell of pure gratitude gently expands to fill my middle. It’s her. Confirming she’s not only figured out how to seal her side off; she’s learning how to send choice emotions over, the same way I have for her.
I’m so touched, I only manage to nod. Violet swallows and darts around the house, leaving me alone with my omega.
Gideon leans forward, watching to make sure she gets to the back door before he casts me an inquisitive look. “You gave her a notebook?”
I work to keep my voice from breaking. “Sketchpad. For—”
“—art therapy,” he supplies, grinning as he rolls his eyes. “Let me guess—you also tried to lure her up to that damn craft room?”
Relief replaces my anxiety, even as pain from the half-bond starts to pull taut again. I still huff a quiet laugh, winding my arm around his waist. “Possibly.”
He gives a good-natured scoff. “I suppose someone should use it. You know it won’t be me.”
I knock the toe of my loafer against the side of his hiking shoe. “Hmm. I seem to recall you saying the same thing about these,” I taunt, raising my brows. “Change of heart? Or are you just trying to get on Daddy’s good side?”
Gideon’s perfume swells as his lips twitch upward, then just as quickly, flatten into a pensive line.
“No,” he admits, glancing at the back doors of the manor.
“I… You’ve been telling me for years how good fresh air is for my health.
But until last night, it never occurred to me that some omegas don’t get to go outside. ”
The empathy stamped into his expression winds me. Shame creeps into his scent and the set of his shoulders.
Ironic, since I’m more proud of him in this moment than I ever have been.
I bend to scent-mark his temple, murmuring, “Hmm. Is that so?”
He sighs, frowning grumpily. “Yeah. I just figured… If I can enjoy the benefits of being out here, then I probably should. Occasionally. For short periods of time.”
My little brat.
Attitude or not, he does deserve a reward. I nip his earlobe, lowering my voice to a carnal bark. “Inside.”
He startles, flashing me wide, gorgeous gray eyes. “Why?”
“We’re getting in the shower,” I determine. “Possibly for the rest of the morning.”