Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
KAYLA
P acing my bedroom, I feel trapped. The walls are closing in, and the air is getting thin. Every fiber of my being screams that I gotta move, gotta do something, but what?
Nexus’ visit still crawls under my skin, leaving a trail of icy dread. Ryker’s lingering scent—smoke and leather—hangs heavy in the air, making me wish he was here. I still feel like I’m cramped in that toolbox again, and it sparks something wild within me, a primal urge to burrow, to vanish.
My chest heaves; I need to distract myself. I drift through the mansion, not finding Dane, Liam, or Ryker anywhere, and I imagine they’re outside, discussing Nexus’s visit and maybe Ryker’s change of heart in letting me stay.
Reading. I haven’t done any since clubbing with my friends, then Nexus taking us on the bus and everything.
The library door clicks shut behind me, a sound that feels eerily similar to a creepy whisper. Ryker’s smoky leather scent still clings to me, comforting yet electrifying and scary all at once. It coils around me like a temptation I shouldn’t want. Not exactly the headspace I need after Nexus’ surprise visit. My brain feels like a blender on high, churning chaos.
Thank goodness for walls lined with books, a rainbow of spines screaming stories at me. Then, glinting like tiny disco balls, are silver-foil-covered books. I inch closer, squinting at the titles, and gasp to discover they’re romance novels. A whole shelf of them, guaranteeing passion and escape. My. Freaking. Favorite. Authors. How? Why? These three Alphas, all rough edges and growls, mixed with an inexplicable tenderness, just… don’t compute. Do they actually read this stuff?
As though feeling their eyes on me like a physical caress, goosebumps rise along my arms. I shake my head. I’m probably still reacting to the adrenaline of earlier and being cramped in the toolbox without knowing if Ryker was going to let Nexus take me.
“Snap out of it, Kayla,” I mutter, yanking a book off the shelf. The silver cover feels cool and smooth, the title embossed like a fancy invitation. For a second, it’s just me and the hope of a world where trust isn’t a weapon and love isn’t a battlefield.
Tucking the romance book under my arm, I sink into the plush couch. I can’t believe any of the Alphas would actually read romance books, so why are they here? Three Alphas lounging around, swooning over destined mates and stolen glances? As likely as a snowball’s chance in hell. Yet the evidence is nestled between war guides and car manuals, whispering of secret worlds where passion has softer edges.
I open the book, ready to escape to a place without the scares and inhale the scent of ink and fresh paper. It’s not long before I melt into the words, the tension in my shoulders finally loosening as the story sweeps me away.
“Thought you might be starving.”
Dane’s voice cuts through my concentration. Blinking back to reality, I find him holding a tray that looks like a feast compared to the scraps I’d been living on back home. The smell of chicken tortilla soup hits me, and my stomach growls loudly.
“Thanks,” I mumble, softer than I intended. It’s weird how the sight of actual food peels away layers I hadn’t realized I’d built up—layers meant to keep me safe.
“Figured none of us ate much with, uh, everything going on,” Dane gestures vaguely, probably at the whole Nexus mess and the general upending of my life.
“Yeah, no kidding. Thanks.”While he stands a foot from me, I can’t deny the masculine intensity radiating from him in waves. How my breasts suddenly feel heavy and tight. What is wrong with me?
Get a grip. This is self-preservation, not swooning. I grab a spoon, the metal heated from the soup, and take a scalding bite. Flavors explode on my tongue—spicy, tangy lime, a delicious agony to go with the ache of awareness thrumming through me. I can’t remember the last time I had this, and whenever it was, it definitely wasn’t as delicious as this.
“Enjoy,” Dane says, but he doesn’t leave. He hovers by the couch, one cushion away, like he’s enjoying watching me eat.
“You can hang out here. You don’t need to just stand there.” I smile at him, my stomach fluttering nervously at my brazen invitation. “Kinda hoping you can give me the scoop on how these romance books ended up in a library with three Alphas.”
He pauses, eyebrows lifting slightly, a hint of amusement curling his lips. Then, with a casual shrug, he sits on the couch, one cushion between us, and leans back. His relaxed posture contrasts with the intensity of his gaze, making my stomach do another flip.
“You really want to know?” he asks, a playful challenge in his tone.
The small distance feels safe, yet intimate, as I feel the weight of his stare.
“Yeah.” I shovel in another bite of soup, the warmth battling the chill that’s been clinging to me ever since Nexus showed its ugly mug.
Dane glances down at the book in my hand with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, then picks another one from the pile, his fingers skimming the shiny cover. I can’t help tracking the movement, momentarily transfixed by the sheer masculine power in those hands.
“Well, I don’t actually read these,” he admits with a chuckle. “Ryker buys them.”
“Ryker?” I practically choke on my soup. “Seriously?” The idea of brooding, intense Ryker reading sappy, fluffy romance novels seems totally out of character. These sparkly books full of lingering glances and gushy feelings don’t fit at all with the dusty classics filling the shelves. “Why?”
Dane shrugs. “You’ll have to ask him that.”
“Ryker?” I repeat, unable to wrap my mind around it.
Dane just nods, lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh at my surprise. “I’ll leave the reading to you. Ryker just buys them for his own reasons,” Dane says vaguely.
Now I’m really curious about this whole weird thing—the tough Alpha guy buying romance books. I make a mental note to grill Ryker about it later.
“Huh, interesting,” I mumble, taking a gulp of soda. Dane’s piercing gaze feels like it’s seeing right through me. Something sparks between us for a moment, his smoldering stare stealing my breath.
Again, I take another bite of soup, trying to ground myself against the unsettling tide of Dane’s mere presence. As if he can sense my inner turbulence, his face softens a notch.
“Your injuries...” His deep voice rumbles with a hint of something raw and protective. Eyes that moments ago smoldered with banked heat now rove over me with gentle concern. “How’s the healing coming along?”
A lump catches in my throat at his attentiveness. I glance down at the fading bruise on my arm, a mottled map of the pain I’ve endured. “Better,” I mumble, the half-truth feeling as flimsy as tissue paper between us. “I had a good medic.”
His hand reaches out, hovering in the air between us before lightly brushing against mine. The contact is electric, sending tingles racing up my arm and a warmth spreading through me.
“Is this...” My words trail off as my stomach clenches. No way. It’s not my heat; it can’t be. Not now. It has to be the jalapenos wreaking havoc like a storm inside me.
“Thank you,” I say quickly, needing to break the tension, “for the food... and for taking care of me.” My hand finds his arm, a gesture of gratitude that sparks more of those treacherous tingles through my veins. It feels like every nerve ending is on high alert, each brush of skin against skin echoing louder than it should.
“Anytime, Kayla.” His voice is low, a rumble that vibrates through the room. I swear it resonates straight into my bones.
My hand jerks back like I touched a hot stove, the tingly aftershock lingering on my fingertips. Instinct has me wrapping my arms tight across my chest. This is too much—too intimate, too raw. I need space to breathe, to think, to not feel the confusing mix of fear and attraction swirling inside me.
“Guess I’m not used to the spicy stuff,” I quip, attempting to laugh off the odd sensations coursing through me, but the joke falls flat, even to my own ears.
Dane simply nods, his eyes holding mine a moment longer before he stands, collecting the tray. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kayla. You’re stronger than you know.”
The gruff words and their underlying fierceness rob me of breath. No one has ever truly seen my struggle, the daily battle to keep my chin up and soul intact. Yet Dane’s dark gaze holds mine with an understanding that strips me bare.
Heat prickles along my skin as our mingled breaths hang between us.
A heavy pause stretches taut as a tightrope. Dane seems to hesitate rather than saying more. Instead, he gives a curt nod and rises with the empty dishes, leaving me to stare after his retreating form. An unexpected ache blossoms in his wake, a longing to peel back more layers of this enigmatic man who sees quiet strengths I’ve feared no one would understand.
But the image is already fading, replaced by the scorching intensity of Dane’s gaze. Slowly, against my will, his rugged features take over the hero’s, sending a jolt of yearning through me that both terrifies and entrances.
What the actual heck is happening here? Swallowing hard, I push aside the confusing tangle of emotions he’s stirring in me.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the image of Dane from my mind. It’s not possible, this pull toward him. I’m an Omega, but I’ve never been one to swoon at an Alpha’s feet, especially not after everything I’ve been through.
With Dane gone from the library, there’s a strange sense of loss pulsing through me. As I sink back onto the couch, Dane’s scent lingers, an invisible tether drawing me toward something I can’t see or understand. Something dangerous and alluring, whispering of a place where I might belong.
“Get a grip, Kayla,” I mutter under my breath, my fingers gripping the edges of the book until they turn white. Heat or no heat, jalapenos or not, I can’t afford to lose myself. My grip tightens on the book as uncertainty and longing churn inside me.
It’s too quiet in the library now. Ugh, I hate to admit it, even to myself, but a tiny, traitorous part of me wishes he hadn’t left.
Heaving a sigh that whooshes out of me, I pick up the romance novel again, trying to lose myself in its pages. But the hero’s rugged charm, his protective nature—it all morphs into Dane, and I can almost hear his baritone tone instead of the scripted lines.
“Damn it.” On my feet, I shove the book back onto the shelf, my fingers brushing against the cool, smooth spine.
I blush, hot and flustered in a way that has nothing to do with the warm library air. Must be from those jalapenos that were no joke—might as well be firecrackers in my stomach.
But the truth is, the tingles that flip in my belly, they ain’t from any spicy pepper. They’re from Dane—from his touch, his presence. No, it can’t be. There’s no room for that kind of distraction, not when I’ve spent years dodging glances that linger too long and hands that wander too freely.
I have three Alphas saying I can stay, vowing they won’t hand me over to Nexus like some prize. It’s a strange feeling having someone on my side for once. Not running, not hiding—it’s unfamiliar territory, and I tread carefully. Trust doesn’t come easy, and safety is just another word for the cage you don’t see yet.
Taking a deep breath, I brace myself against the storm inside me. I’ve survived this long by being smart, by keeping my walls high and sturdy. I can’t afford to let them crumble now—not for Dane, not for anyone.
Now, the library’s hush feels like it’s pressing in on me, and I need to shake off the suffocating quiet. My feet carry me through dimly lit corridors without direction until Dane’s scent wraps around me—sandalwood and something crisp, like mountain air after a storm. It pulls me along, a lure I can’t resist.
The door to his bedroom stands slightly ajar, and I hesitate, biting my lip. His scent is like an invisible thread tugging at my core, drawing me inside. The room is empty, thank God, but it’s full of him. Every inch speaks Dane, from the military precision of the folded clothes to the neat stack of dog-eared medical journals on his desk.
His bed looms before me, large and made without even the tiniest wrinkle in sight. Without thinking, I drift closer, my fingers itching to touch, to feel what he feels when he sinks into those sheets each night. I give in, snatching up his pillow. It’s wrong, so damn wrong, but I press it to my face, inhaling deeply. The scent floods my senses with pure Dane.
Heat zips through me, sharp and sudden, and my nipples bead against the thin fabric of my top. A shudder ripples through my body, and I clamp down on the gasp trying to escape. It’s not heat; it can’t be. My mind scrambles for excuses, reasons, anything to explain away the rush.
Realization slams into me—I’m clutching his pillow like a lovesick fool who has no business being here. Any second, he could walk in, and then what? I’d have no words, just stammers and blushes and the burning shame of getting caught.
I hurl the pillow back onto the bed where it belongs, smoothing the creases in a feeble attempt to erase my intrusion. My hands are shaking as I step back, the room suddenly too small, the air too thick.
I scold myself for this slip, for even entertaining the possibility of... of whatever madness this is. Heat? Hell no. Not when I’ve finally found a place where I might not have to look over my shoulder every damn minute.
Quickly, I slip out of Dane’s room, closing the door with a soft click. The corridor seems colder now, or maybe that’s just me—chilled by the close call, by the reckless urge that almost undid me. I wrap my arms around myself, warding off the shiver that wants to take hold, and make my way back to the sanctuary of the library, where stories are the only things that sweep you off your feet, and dreams don’t come with dangerous strings attached.
Next time, I’ll pick up the 1970 Corvette auto mechanic volume instead. That will keep my mind off my body’s responses and these three Alphas who I can’t stop thinking about.