Chapter 52
fifty-two
“Atlas?”
There are few better ways to wake up than the man you love murmuring your name in the dark.
I roll to Gideon’s side of the bed automatically, inhaling deep. Relishing the sweet, woody scent of maple and the rich nuttiness underneath. Absorbing the way he tingles into my lungs and sends sparks shimmering through my blood.
There’s a different sort of perfume woven with his, at the moment. Something delicate and almost gentle—but dark, too. The mystery thread puts a pinch between my brows. I crack my eyes open while my bleary brain struggles to process.
It’s the dead of night, so trying to see without my glasses is essentially pointless. Instead, I stretch toward Gideon’s pillow, humming drowsily. “Mm?”
There isn’t a warm, hard body beside me, though. And—also—where is the pain? Every time I’ve woken up over the last three weeks, the half-bond’s gutting sting greets me before anything else.
I blink, wondering why it’s pitch-black in here, without even a sliver of moonlight to backlight the drapes. When thunder rattles the room’s antique windows, the gloom makes sense.
Gideon’s voice, however, does not. It gets louder, taking on an urgent snap that almost sounds like a bark.
“Atlas, wake up.”
It is a bark, I suppose, because I suddenly bolt upright, fully alert. My mind staggers over my surroundings, catching up.
I’m in our bed. Gideon isn’t. He’s standing at my side, partly leaning over me. One of his hands clutches my shoulder, while the other—
Clings to someone else.
Violet, who is in the barest hint of a white nightgown. Violet, who looks around our room like she’ll burst out of her skin before she dares to touch anything. Violet, who cowers behind Gideon, absolutely quaking with fear.
That’s what this scent is, I realize. Her soft sweetness, stained into dark blue, breathless terror.
“Violet.”
Her name lurches up my throat before I can stop it. My body moves without permission, too, flinging out a hand to slap our bedside lamp and find my glasses.
Dim incandescence flickers to life. The room comes into focus as my lenses land crookedly on my nose.
My Alpha and I play tug-of-war with my vision. I want to see my prince’s expression—but the voice at my middle wants to make sure his mate is in one piece.
I win, bouncing my gaze to Gideon. Surprisingly, my omega doesn’t seem devastated that I’ve just said Violet’s name. In fact, as he carefully tugs her trembling form in front of his and urges her toward me, he looks relieved.
Like I observed at breakfast the other day, freezing appears to be Violet’s innate response to this sort of fear. Her limbs lock when Gideon nudges her forward. Panicked green eyes snap to the edge of the mattress. She sways backward, scared to so much as touch our sheets.
Sweet baby girl.
Always—always—thinking about everyone else. Even now, when she’s obviously in the throes of some sort of breakdown.
I slide my legs out of the sheets, grateful I put my boxers back on before Gideon and I fell asleep. Once I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, my eyes fly to my omega’s again.
What does he want me to do? How far does he want us to take this?
Instead of grim determination, I find his gaze bright with fervent worry. He tilts his head at Violet and mouths, “Scared. Of the storm.”
As if to demonstrate, lightning splits the sky. Violet literally jumps. A strangled whine ekes out of her.
It’s the first time she’s let herself whine in front of me since the day she bit me. Then, every whimper only underscored the sick squirm that sliced at my stomach. But now?
Heavy, hurtling warmth floods my middle and thickens my throat. Compassion. Concern. The overwhelming, all-consuming desire to care for her.
My arms twitch, reflexively reaching for her shivering form.
I slant another, more urgent glance at Gideon.
Making sure this is what he wants me to do.
But he just nods again, near frantic in his encouragement.
Especially when Violet whines a second time, dropping her attention to the open cradle of my arms.
She wants it. I can see how much—but, more importantly, I feel it. Her longing is so sharp, not even the plywood doors boarded up between us can block it out. She takes another step back, though, her entire frame visibly shuddering when she bumps into Gideon.
In our ten years together, I’ve never seen the look that falls over his face. Some blend of heartrending concern and soul-deep pain. Every handsome feature creases, pulling taut with anguish as he smooths his hands over Violet’s sides, bending to put them face-to-face.
“It’s okay, Vi,” he whispers, sincerity burning bright in his gray irises. “You need him—and that’s okay. I’m good with it. I promise.”
God help me; he means it. I can see it in every flicker on his face, scent the intensity in his rich essence. I also sense it, somehow, in the same place where my Alpha snaps at his binds, begging to get to his mate.
Gideon wants me to comfort Violet. In fact, if the slightly panicked way he glances at me now is any indication? He needs me to.
It feels like a trap. Too good to be true. Too painful to endure.
How could he possibly need me to comfort another omega? How could I possibly say no?
I can’t, I realize. I won’t.
I lean forward, offering my embrace with more insistence. Hoarse emotion swells to block my throat, turning my quiet plea into a rasp. “Come here, Violet. Please?”
That final word shivers through her. Gideon takes full advantage, gently nudging her closer. Murmuring so sweetly into her ear, “I promise it’s okay, sweet girl. I promise, I promise.”
His selfless care presses a fresh lump into my windpipe. Pride swells through my chest. I find myself extending my arms further, reaching for him, too. Smoothing my palms over his forearms, while Violet staggers into the spot between my spread knees.
Gideon takes note of my caress. His scent spikes, but he rolls his eyes, shooting me an exasperated look. “I’m fine,” he mouths, but I still slide my fingers to his, brushing them over the hands framing Violet’s hips.
In a very pointed move, Gideon slips his touch from under mine and places it on top. Pressing my hands into Violet’s thin white nightgown.
Sensation skitters up my limbs, swarming my insides. Christ, she’s so warm. Perfectly soft. Everything…
Gideon doesn’t stop there, though. With fervent, defiant determination in his gray gaze, he guides my palms over Violet’s curved sides, skating our hands along her ribs, her waist, her hips, her outer thighs.
God. The shape of her. Blended with the cool fire burning in my prince’s eyes… The approval and want smoldering there… My musk thickens, filling the air between the three of us.
Violet’s next whimper is almost a moan. The sound streaks down my spine, tweaking the knot pulsing at the base of my cock. Slack-jawed awe loosens Gideon’s features. Before I have a chance to react, he perfumes.
Their combined reactions are too much. Too good. My Alpha lurches past my careful barriers, sweeping Violet off the ground. Into my lap.
Her thighs part around mine as her knees sink into the padded mattress. She keens again, twining her frail arms around my neck and hiding her face against the sliver of space between her bicep and my throat.
My purr starts up automatically. Which means I’m purring for Violet.
Waves of anxiety break against the jagged rocks of shame sitting at my center. I snap my head up, searching for Gideon’s eyes.
But they aren’t seething with jealousy or swimming with anguish. They’re tender. Glowing with understanding and appreciation. Full of forgiveness and adoration.
He isn’t mad at all. In fact, he’s purring, too. The gentle vibration helps unlock my tight lungs, smoothing my own rumbles while he steps forward, into the space where Violet just stood. Bringing his purr closer.
For her, I realize. Even as he reaches up to card his fingers through my mussed hair.
Violet squeezes me tighter. A bittersweet swirl of gratitude and regret flurries over our frayed bond. She’s so relieved to be here, with me. She also hates herself for how good it feels.
I truly understand.
Instead of leaving her out on a limb, I open my side of our tether, showing her all the same emotions in reverse. When a quiet sob bounces her shoulders, Gideon drops his face to her crown, nuzzling his scent there.
“Shhh, we’re okay, sweet girl,” he soothes. “Daddy’s here with us. We’re okay now.”
I’m shocked he would share that nickname with anyone, let alone Violet. She responds perfectly, though, burrowing closer and gasping with a combination of relief and desperation.
Before I can process the surprise pinching my lungs, Gideon pins his brilliant gaze to mine. Speaking to me when he whispers, “We’re going to figure this out. It’s going to be alright.”
There’s a plea in his eyes, begging me to prove him right. To comfort Violet and show her how much I could care about her. To stay steady in my vow to never abandon my love for Gideon or break his trust.
To somehow be the alpha they both need.
Maybe that ought to scare me. But as my omega sinks his fingers into the hair at my nape and my mate hides her pain in the warm spot above my heart…
I feel right. Complete. True.
As if my whole life—the whole world, perhaps—happened just to bring me here. To this one moment, where I get to be theirs.