Chapter 15
Odette’s House
Adam
Odette's driveway is a long stretch of cracked concrete lined with overgrown boxwoods, and I've never been so happy to see it in my life.
I pull the stolen minivan in behind Raff's mother's car and kill the engine, but my hands stay on the wheel.
I can't seem to let go of it.
My fingers are locked around the worn leather in a grip that's been white-knuckled since the logging road.
A door slides open in the back, but I stay where I am, looking up at the house in front of me. It’s small and tidy with a covered porch and wind chimes that clink in the night air. Warm light spills from the kitchen window.
I definitely need one of Odette’s crushing bear hugs right now.
Behind me, Cliff is murmuring something to the woman in his lap. Elowen. Her name is Elowen. It's burned into my brain whether I want it there or not.
She's quiet now. No longer frantically clawing, snarling, grinding-against-everything within arm’s reach like she had been earlier. She’s silent. It’s like something inside her finally gave up.
Perrin's hand finds my knee. He squeezes once, then hops out of the van. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. My brother has always been able to read me without words, and right now I'm sure my face is saying plenty.
Get out of the damn van, I tell myself, but my body isn’t ready to move yet. Because if I do move, then it might knock something loose inside me, and I might accidentally feel something…and I've been very careful not to feel anything for the last two hours.
Instead, I’ve packed every piece of chaos into neat little boxes, then stack those boxes in a corner of my brain where I don't have to look at them yet.
Box one: Cliff actually fucked someone who isn't pack.
Box two: Cliff mated her. I saw the bite. Fresh and deep and unmistakable on the left side of her neck.
Box three: Cliff knotted her.
Box four: I helped pull his knot out of her body with my own hands.
Box five: I don't know how I feel about any of it.
That's a lie. I know exactly what I feel, but I’m scared I’ll cry if I admit it.
“Alright.” Perrin opens my door, making me flinch. “Let’s go. Odette probably has leftovers, and I'm pretty sure we've earned carbs.”
I force myself to smile, then let go of the steering wheel. My fingers ache as they uncurl. “I’m coming.”
I slide out of the seat, and my feet find the concrete. I stand there for a second, breathing in the night air around me. It’s warm and thick with the smell of cut grass and Odette's jasmine bushes. It’s all wonderfully familiar.
Behind me, I hear the sliding door close. Cliff's low voice and Raff’s boots. But I don’t hear Elowen.
I don't get out yet. I need one more second.
Just one more second of not looking at the bite mark on her neck.
The porch light flicks on and the front door opens.
Odette steps out, pulling a thin robe tighter around her shoulders. Her silver-white hair is slightly flattened on one side, like she'd been dozing in her armchair, and her feet are in slippers. She squints at the driveway, her eyes moving over the minivan she's never seen before.
"Rafferty?" Her voice carries across the yard. "What's going on? Whose van is that?"
Raff places one hand on the hood of the car. "Hey, Ma. Can I park it behind the house?"
She doesn't hesitate. "Of course." But her eyes don't leave the van. "Everything okay? You boys never come around this late."
Raff takes the keys from my hand as he passes. His fingers brush mine for half a second, and my feet start to move again.
I walk toward Odette as the van pulls around the side of the house and out of sight from the road.
Mama O’s arms open for me the way they always do.
I've loved this woman since the first time Raff brought me home, when she took one look at me, said "you're too thin," and made me eat two plates of pasta before she even let me speak.
“You look tired,” she says as her arms close around my shoulders. She squeezes me tight, letting her chin rest on top of my head. She smells like cinnamon and dish soap and the jasmine lotion she puts on before bed.
But I can feel her body tense as she watches Cliff.
"Holy shit,” she whispers. "What the fuck happened to you boys? And who’s the girl?”
"Long story," Perrin says from somewhere behind me. He sounds as tired as I feel.
I catch a glimpse of Cliff as he moves past me and Odette. He’s carrying Elowen through the front door and into the house.
Odette watches him go. Then she looks down at me.
Her hands come up and cup my face, tilting it toward the porch light. Her gray eyes move over me slowly. It feels like she’s reading me. She frowns, her thumbs pressing gently into my temples, and whatever she finds there makes her mouth pull tight.
I swear this woman can see inside my skull.
“Whatever’s going on in that pretty head, know that it’ll be okay.” She leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. Then she wraps an arm around my back and guides me inside, her hand rubbing slow circles between my shoulder blades as we walk.
The kitchen sits right off the front door with a pretty open layout.
The flooring is the same mustard-yellow linoleum Raff used to slide across in his socks as a kid.
Wood paneling lines every wall, dark and dated, with the small living room visible on the other side of the breakfast bar.
It’s barely big enough for a couch, a recliner, and a TV that's older than me. On the other side of the room, there’s a little hallway that leads to two bedrooms and a single bathroom with a door that sticks.
The whole place smells like old wood and the lemon cleaner Odette uses on everything. It's dated in the way of houses that have been loved too long to change. Raff has drawn up renovation plans twice, and Odette threw both of them away without reading them.
She likes her house just the way it is, and honestly so do I.
Cliff carries Elowen to the couch and lays her down carefully, one hand cradling her head as he lowers it onto a throw pillow. He pulls the crocheted blanket off the back of the recliner and drapes it over her, tucking it around her shoulders.
She doesn't stir.
I stare at her from the kitchen doorway. She's asleep. Her breathing is slow and even, her face slack.
That's weird. Isn't it?
Omegas in heat don't simply fall asleep.
Everything I've ever heard says a heat lasts days.
Wave after wave, relentless, until the cycle burns itself out or an alpha knots them through it.
She should be writhing and crying and demanding that Cliff knot her right now.
Not sleeping like a kid who wore herself out at a birthday party.
But I don't say any of that out loud.
Cliff stands over her for a few seconds, looking down at her face. Then he turns and walks into the kitchen.
Perrin is already at the little table. He's sitting with his elbows on the wood and his hands pressed over his face, fingers digging into his hairline. He doesn't look up when Cliff passes behind him.
All our eyes are on Cliff, watching as he grabs the hem of his shirt and peels it over his head. He winces when the fabric catches on the dried blood along his left arm. He drops the ruined shirt on the counter and steps up to the sink, turning the faucet on.
Under the kitchen light, the damage to his beautiful body is worse than I realized.
There’s a clear bullet graze on his bicep. It’s an ugly, shallow gash about three inches long, the edges ragged and crusted with dried blood. Fresh red flows the second the water hits it.
The cut above his eyebrow is still seeping, a thin line of blood tracking into his brow.
His knuckles on both hands are split and swollen, the skin over his middle and ring finger on the right hand torn open to the white underneath.
Bruises are already blooming across his ribs in dark purple patches.
Odette moves to him, then leans against the counter beside him, arms crossed, watching the blood swirl down the drain.
"So." Her voice is calm. "You want to tell me why you're showing up at my house in the middle of the night, covered in blood, with an unconscious woman on my couch who smells like she's been through hell?"
Cliff doesn't look up from the sink. "It's complicated, Odette."
"Uncomplicate it."
The back door opens, and Raff steps in, keys in his hand. His eyes sweep the living room. They land on Elowen, then to Perrin at the table, Cliff at the sink, and finally to me.
He walks straight to me.
His arms wrap around my shoulders, and he pulls me against his chest without a word.
His chin rests on top of my head, and I can feel his heartbeat, still running fast, his shirt damp with sweat and something else I don't want to think about.
He smells like sage and adrenaline and Elowen's slick, and my stomach twists at the combination.
But I don't pull away. I press my forehead into his collarbone and breathe.
"How's Perrin?" Raff murmurs against my hair. Low enough that only I can hear it.
I glance at the table. My brother hasn't moved. His hands are still over his face, his shoulders rigid.
"I don't know," I say honestly.
Raff holds me tighter.
Odette hasn't moved from her spot next to the sink. She's still waiting for her answer.
"Clifford Durrant." Her tone is firm. “Start talking.” Her gray eyes narrow. “Who’s the girl?”
“I found her." Perrin's voice comes from behind his hands. Flat and tired. He drops his palms to the table and stares at the wood grain.
“I was walking through the Morder on my way to the pharmacy tent,” he says.
“She was leaning against some crates, and she looked sick.
I thought it was heatstroke." He pauses, then swallows.
"Then she kissed me. I didn't—she just grabbed me and kissed me, and I couldn't—" He stops.
His mouth pulls into a tight line, and he shakes his head. "Then Cliff showed up."