23. Cassidy #3
Gemma’s hand has settled on my wrist, holding me close, and whilst it’s probably comforting for her, it pins her synthetic peach against my skin until it feels constricting.
Like I’m trapped here in this corner.
A burst of laughter erupts from the table behind me, making my ears ring.
I straighten slightly in my seat, trying to calm the panic down. I can’t overreact right now.
Can’t ruin this night.
Everyone else is having fun. Frankie is having fun.
The last thing I want is to become the difficult omega who can’t handle one evening in a crowded pub.
So, I smile, nod when appropriate, and laugh when everyone else laughs.
And quietly wonder why feeling included still feels this lonely.
Deep down, all I want to do is leave. The biting cold air outside would be better than this.
I’m reaching for my glass, mostly so I have something to do with my hands, when the air changes.
Not dramatically, but enough to send a shiver down my spine.
There’s a strange awareness beneath my skin, a prickle at the back of my neck, my scent glands heating before I understand why.
Warmth cuts through the cloying press of synthetic peach, lager, fried food, and too many overlapping scents.
My fingers still against the stem of my wine glass, and the moment I feel that familiar burn along my glands, I know exactly what has changed.
Which is ridiculous. Impossible, even. But my body just knows.
I glance towards the doorway of the pub, and there he is.
Silas Varrick has entered the pub. All I can do is stare.
He fills the entrance without trying, broad shoulders blocking a slice of cold night behind him.
His dark coat is open at the throat, hair slightly mussed from the wind, deep-set eyes already scanning the room with a focus that makes my stomach tighten.
Silas doesn’t look at a room the way other people do. Evander looks for problems to solve. Isaac looks for details everyone else misses. Harlan looks like he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t noticed anything at all.
Silas looks like he’s deciding what’s worth his attention.
Then his gaze lands back on me, and everything in me goes still as he smirks.
My breath catches, and I know that the flush on my cheeks is not from the pub’s heat this time.
The distance between us is too far for him to scent me properly. It has to be. The pub is crowded, hot, loud, thick with bodies and drink and perfume and spilled beer.
But somehow, I know he can see the effect he’s having on me. His eyes flick over me, lingering on the way Gemma’s fingers wrap around my wrist, right over my scent gland.
His jaw tightens, and he breaks eye contact, striding to the bar.
Frankie raises a brow at me, mouthing, You okay? and I nod quickly. He grins, returning to his conversation.
I’m relieved, despite wishing for most of our time here that he’d ask me to leave, because now I can watch Silas without judgement.
My pulse pounds when Silas leans against the bar, focusing entirely on me.
Gemma’s hand tightens on my wrist, pressing her scent harder into my skin, and she leans in as if she’s about to tell us all a big secret.
“What the fuck,” she gasps. “Don’t look all at once, but the hottie at the bar is Silas Varrick.”
“Silas Varrick?” someone whispers, and I watch the people I’m with take turns to glance his way.
I don’t think he even blinks.
“Have you heard—” someone starts, but I tune them out. I can’t focus, not when he’s holding me hostage with his gaze.
Silas turns to order something from the bar, and I’m not surprised when he’s given his drink less than a minute later.
Weirdly, he isn’t charged for it before he moves away from the bar. The crowd seems to part for him, and my heart begins to race as he approaches our table.
Gemma’s practically buzzing in her seat next to me, her nails digging uncomfortably into my wrist.
As he reaches the table, every conversation around us seems to thin at the edges.
His gaze doesn’t move from me.
“Cassidy.”
My name in his mouth is low, and I can feel my flush deepening.
I swallow. “Hi.”
It comes out small, and honestly, a little scared. His eyes drop to Gemma’s hand, disgust flaring across his face as he takes in exactly where she’s touching me.
Gemma notices at the same time I do, laughing brightly and breathlessly as she finally releases me. “Sorry, sir, we’ve been monopolising her. She’s very popular tonight.”
Silas doesn’t look at her. It should be considered rude, but I can’t make myself care.
Because he did what I couldn’t.
He got Gemma to let go of me, and now it feels like I can finally breathe again.
Silas’s eyes return to mine.
“You’ve had enough.”
The words land with awful accuracy.
My throat closes, and I don’t even know how to argue when I don’t want to.
When really, all I want to do is beg him to get me out of here.
Around us, several people shift awkwardly. Greg clears his throat. Frankie rises from his seat, concern cutting through his expression now, and guilt immediately twists through me.
Because this was supposed to be a nice night with a friend, and now I’m making everyone else uncomfortable.
Everyone was having fun, and I’ve not only made this about me, but I’ve somehow brought the boss of a few of us to the party.
Even I know that’s a terrible thing to do.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, at work?”
Silas’s expression doesn’t change. “No, you’re not. It’s time to go, Cassidy.”
Heat rushes to my face, and humiliation follows right behind it.
The last thing I wanted was to be seen. Not in front of colleagues and strangers and Frankie and Gemma, with every part of me fraying beneath too many eyes.
“I don’t want to be rude,” I whisper, wondering if I should grab Gemma’s hand myself.
Something flickers in his gaze, but he doesn’t relent.
“If Mr Varrick needs you to go tend to his… needs, Cass, you really should,” Gemma says.
There’s something about her tone that causes me to feel sick. Like there’s something wrong about this moment, something I can’t actually understand.
My fingers curl in my lap. I don’t know what to do.
Frankie steps closer. “Cass?”
I look at him, and the concern in his dark eyes nearly finishes me.
“I’m sorry,” I say immediately. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Stop,” Silas says. “Let’s go. Now.”
His tone is so firm, so demanding. He’s not barking at me, but my body reacts anyway, a shiver moving through me before I can hide it.
His eyes sharpen slightly, like he noticed.
Of course, he noticed. Silas notices everything.
“You’re not apologising for needing to leave,” he says, and he looks around at the group. “Someone move so she can get out.”
I grab my things, and Gemma passes me my wine glass.
“I don’t need—” I start.
“I’ll have it, then,” Gemma says brightly.
No matter how kind her tone is, her eyes tell a different story. They’re stony, angry, even, and I know I’ve ruined her night.
Ruined everyone’s night.
Silas reaches for my things, taking them in one hand without spilling his drink, and I duck my head, moving past Gemma, who still doesn’t move out of my way.
I look at Frankie, and he gives me a big grin, stepping forward into my space. He presses a careful kiss to my forehead, squeezing my side gently.
“Message me when you’re home, yeah?”
I nod.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again.
He gives me a look. “Stop that.”
Silas makes a low sound of approval but steps in so that he’s blocking the others from seeing us, giving me one small pocket of space.
“I’ll make sure she gets home safely, Bennett. You don’t need to concern yourself,” Silas says, gently pushing me forward.
The moment we move from the table, their conversation erupts loudly, yet none of it touches me.
Not with Silas at my back, protecting me from it. As we weave our way through the pub, nobody pushes into me, nobody gets close, and none of their scents quite reach me.
Outside, the cold air hits my face hard enough to make my eyes sting.
I inhale shakily, and the first full breath I’ve taken in nearly an hour scrapes its way through my chest.
“Drink this,” Silas commands, handing me the glass.
“I don’t—” I start.
“It’s water. Drink it,” he repeats.
I shiver on the spot but can’t help doing what he says. It’s not until I have my first sip that I realise how thirsty I am, and under his watchful gaze, I drink half the glass.
Another alpha telling me what I need should make me angry, especially after how much of my life has already been rearranged by men deciding they know better.
But tonight, I’m just… relieved.
I’ve needed to leave for a while, but I didn’t know how to ask without becoming a problem.
Silas looks down at me, his expression unreadable.
“You’re safe,” he says quietly.
My throat aches. He shouldn’t be able to tell me that and mean it.
Fuck, he shouldn’t be able to tell me that and make me believe him.
He’s not… he’s not… I’m not his either.
“Let’s get your coat on, moonlight, and I’ll take you home,” he says calmly. “And on the drive, you can explain why you were out with these people in the first place.”