21. Clara
Clara
The guys were pretty tight-lipped in town.
It wasn’t until we started back toward the house that they told me what happened.
Bram went through the events methodically.
Dagan added his two cents here and there, giving the whole thing more emotion, while Victor translated but didn’t add anything himself.
Jack sat to my right and slung an arm around me, pulling me close as if sensing my rising unease.
Once we reached the house, I followed them up to Victor’s room. Looking around, I could understand why they were so freaked. It’s a catastrophe. The window’s still open. I lean out to spot electronics scattered across the lawn.
“No one could’ve climbed out the window,” I observe. We’re two tall stories up. There’s no ledge or tree or anything to hold onto to make a descent.
They all glance at each other.
“We know, ” Dagan signs.
“So, what does that mean?” I press. “Where did they go?”
Bram steps into my space, cups my cheek in one hand, and rubs his thumb over my skin. “We’re not sure yet. But we’re going to figure it out,” he vows.
I think of a swirling shadow and rumpled blankets. I’m not ready to tell them about that yet. Especially not in front of Victor. He already dislikes me and thinks I’m some attention-seeking liar. No need to fuel that with shadow alphas in my room.
“ We’re going to go start dinner. Wanna come down?” Jack asks.
I nod. “I’ll meet you down there. I’m just taking this all in.”
They head out as I scan the room again, trying to figure out where a madman might’ve escaped or hidden. As I do, my gaze snags on a piece of paper hanging from the wall above the bed.
It’s a drawing—of me.
“That’s not usually there. The asshole hung it there when he destroyed all of my things.”
I turn to where Victor still stands in the doorway, staring at me, as if he can’t stand to be in the same room with me, but also can’t look away.
“But it’s your drawing?” I ask. I have to know.
We stare at each other for a long beat, each daring the other to look away first.
“Yes,” he finally concedes in a sharp whisper.
My heart soars as my stomach plummets.
“Why are you drawing me?” I ask. His eyes on me are so dark and intense that I fear what I might find if I stare too long.
Victor pushes off the doorframe and stalks into the room.
I step back, my spine hitting the wall. He’s immediately in my space, hand pressed to the wall on either side of my head.
His dark brown eyes, identical to Dagan’s but colder, lock on mine, searching.
Heat blooms in my chest, and I hate how much I want him to keep going.
I meet him head-on. I don’t know what this is, but I do know something has to give. The Ember Pack are my mates. That includes Victor.
“What do you want me to say, Spooky Girl? That I draw you because you haunt me? That you’re haunting my every waking thought, and that at night I sometimes dream about your face? That you're fucking magic, Spook?”
I stare up at him. I can’t breathe. He’s stolen every last sense of time and space with his words.
“ I don’t understand,” I say. Because I don’t. If this is how he feels, then why has he been holding back from me? Not just holding back. He’s gone out of his way to be cruel.
“You don’t need to understand. You just need to get out.” He says the last part with a snarl that sends fear skittering up my spine.
He pushes off the wall and steps aside, giving me a clear path to the open door.
I stare at him, unmoving. “Victor, why—”
He cuts me off with a growl.
My spine stiffens, and my omega takes over. Before I even realize what’s happened, I’m out the door and he’s slamming it in my face.
At first, I’m stunned. I want to crumple. But then, fury wins out. I stomp down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Is he always such a Goddamn asshole?” I demand of the entire room, and no one in particular.
“It’s definitely a majority of his personality,” Dagan signs. Jack translates, though I’m pretty proud that I got half of it on my own.
“What did he do?” Bram asks, standing from his chair as if ready to stomp upstairs and confront Victor.
I don’t want him to. Escalating won’t suddenly make Victor become some easygoing person who can stand to be in a room with me.
It just… really hurt to feel like we were making progress before being unceremoniously thrown out on my ass.
“Nothing. He’s just… an ass. It’s fine. I can handle it,” I say it with absolutely no confidence.
Bram looks unsure, but sits back down.
“So, I have a question.”
That gets all three alphas turning to look at me. Jack takes a pot off the burner before giving me his full attention.
“What’s up, Apple?” he asks.
“ Well… remember how Winnie—the girl behind the counter at Dandy Stuff—said she’d see me this weekend?” I ask, trying to ease them into it. Judging by their expressions, I’m not doing the best job. Lots of forehead furrows and frowns.
“Vaguely,” Dagan signs. “I was a little busy making sure my omega was alright.”
My omega.
It’s what he calls me every chance he gets and I don’t hate it. Honestly, it sends a little thrill up my spine every time.
“Well, she’s a very good friend of mine. My best friend, really. And she’s a little concerned about everything that’s happened here. With my new place.”
“With the weird alpha and the scent stuff?” Bram asks.
“No, more like… with me getting roomed with four stranger alphas, and then finding out we’re scent sensitive and living together.”
“Ah.” Bram nods.
“She’s not the only one, either. My whole friend group was pretty freaked when I told them. Not to mention my cousin. He’s one of the alphas that owns the café I work at. He’s pretty upset too. Offered to have me move in with his pack instead of staying here.”
Jack growls at the stove and Dagan bares his teeth.
Bram stays calm, holding up a hand to silence the other two. “What do you want to do, Clara? You didn’t exactly sign up for this when you moved in.”
I look from him, who’s watching me with steady confidence, to Jack, who looks like he’d hug me but would be devastated if I left, to Dagan, who looks like he’d fight anyone who might try to take me from this house.
“I want to stay,” I confess.
They all sag in visible relief.
“But this town,” I go on, “these girls in my book club and their packs… they’re my family. I don’t want them to worry.”
Bra m nods slowly. “What do you think we can do to reassure them?”
I take a deep breath. “They kind of already decided they’re coming for a barbecue this weekend.” I grimace a little and hurry on. “But if you think it’s too early for that, or you just don’t want to, I can always put them off for a couple weekends.”
A muscular arm wraps around my waist and pulls me against a hard chest. Dagan has me wrapped up in him and nothing in me can muster the fury to mind.
I breathe in his pumpkin and nutmeg scent.
He runs the tip of his nose over my cheek and down the curve of my neck before planting a soft kiss at my pulse point.
“I agree with Dagan,” Jack says. “We’re happy to assuage your friends’ fears. It’s only fair, since they don’t know us and this is a different kind of situation.”
I look to each of them. They all give a united, certain front.
“Okay. If you’re sure,” I say.
They smile. Jack continues cooking something that smells like a Michelin-star meal. Bram goes back to a book thicker than my thigh, and Dagan turns to me.
“Tell me about your day, Mine.”
I narrow my eyes, unsure if I got the last sign right.
“Mine?” I both sign and say.
He smirks and it’s a dark, possessive thing. “Mine,” he confirms.
“Your roommate?” I sign back, smiling despite myself. Dagan has been the fastest one to jump on the scent sensitivity train. But I’m not sure how I feel about such a possessive nickname.
“No. Mine. My omega. My mate. My future. My everything from the moment I saw you. Mine.”
He’s dead serious. His scent is steady. He means every word.
I j ust met this man. There’s an alpha upstairs with his exact same face who hates me. And yet, I can’t bring myself to freak out. It’s intense. But I guess… that’s just Dagan.
I don’t even realize my hands are still hovering, ready to reply but unable to find the words, until he gently takes them in his and kisses my knuckles. My face feels like it’s on fire.
Then he leans forward and captures my lips in his.
And I realize—I really want to be his. I’m so glad we all ended up here, in this house. My mind drifts back to what Jack said about getting a flyer in the mail. The same flyer I received. I’m happy with how it turned out… but who sent them? And why?