Chapter 9
nine
I never expected to wake up.
Let alone like this.
I’ve been floating in memories for hours, allowing them lap at my sides the way I imagine the ocean might. Some waves are stronger, some cooler. There are chilly concrete cages, wild-eyed monsters I wish I could save. Iron bars, crackling thunderstorms, and bitter tears.
The addition of a quiet, wise voice at my center is the only reason I’ve stayed alive long enough to relive everything. I’m fascinated, listening to her recount her version of each experience, gently whispering explanations as to why she didn’t appear sooner.
In the end, it boils down to some mix of stubborn spite and cunning. She knew my father wanted me to be an omega more than anything—and she understood that all his cruel tests would multiply exponentially once I designated.
So she stayed hidden and held fast, through experimental therapies, testing labs, prisons that got worse and worse until we were finally shoved here and forgotten.
Even then, when she wanted to reveal herself more than anything, she held out.
Trying to keep me safe. Trying to decide what “safe” would even look like, at this point…
The Omega presents a series of her own memories as proof, showing me the way longing lit her entire being every time I cried lonely tears… or when I was around the alphas the researchers tried to bait me with.
She deems that train of thought too painful for my final moments. Instead, as exhaustion pulls her under, too, my Omega settles my bleary brain in her Happy Place.
The crack in our window only offers the tiniest glimpse of it, but there’s a sparse meadow on the opposite side of the next street.
She pictures us lying in that field, surrounded by tiny purple-and-white blooms. I realize I’ve dreamed this before.
It’s all lovely and familiar—the sun sinking into my bones, a soft breeze sliding over my skin.
Only, um… it usually doesn’t slide quite so low.
And the heat from the sunshine is ordinarily on my face. Not, uh, other regions.
My back bows as my hips stutter in surprise. In my half-dead dream, I blink at the hazy blue sky above me, startled.
Why are my panties suddenly soggy? What is that thick, slippery warmth squelching out of my core? How are all the muscles inside me tweaked so tightly?
I don’t know, but a more intense wave of sensation sweeps over me. My toes curl in the grass. My neck arches on a gasp. My hands fly to my chest, scrambling to stop the deep ache blooming in my breasts.
What in the world?
The meadow in my imagination typically smells like lavender. But right now, there’s an herbaceous citrus scent that makes my nipples prick harder. And—wait—is that…
A latte?
With… whipped cream?
And… maple pecans?
Those were two of my favorite things, once upon a time. Maybe this is what people mean when they say you smell burnt nuttiness before you die? I don’t recall any mention of nearly experiencing a spontaneous orgasm along with it… But that has to be what’s happening, right?
It would also explain why I’m hearing voices.
Well, one voice.
The hushed whisper at my middle seems torn between wild hope and breathless disbelief.
It’s really him, she says, the words cracking on an ear-splitting whine. He came for us.
The idea thrills and terrifies her in equal measures. I sense those emotions without truly feeling them. I’m too busy gaping, dumbstruck.
Am I—Could she—
Is the Omega I’ve been hearing real? Am I actually lying here, making slick? Listening to a voice I swore I didn’t have, teeming with instincts that didn’t exist?!
And, why? Is it this scent? This alpha, so bittersweet and perfect and close.
Oh God.
Here.
With me?
Do I—Could I actually have an Omega… And a mate?
The new voice inside me can’t answer. She’s too focused on something I can’t see—which is when I realize, my body is awake. I just don’t have the driver’s seat. This other being—my Omega, holy shit—is peering through my eyes. Blocking my view.
She’s kind enough to project a brief flash of what she sees, though. And it is, quite simply, unbelievable.
My room’s familiar murky dimness, the kaleidoscope of sketches on the walls, illuminated by a single shaft of sunlight…
And, yes: A man.
An alpha.
His square jaw grinds, set in undeniable concern. Worse, though. Almost… pain?
It fills his bottomless eyes, the strong features under his rich russet skin. His serious gaze flickers behind square glasses, scanning my face. The dark scent of coffee swells, threaded with that irresistible note of sweetness.
It might be comforting—addictive, even—if I wasn’t about to come from breathing.
Did my head float away? Into the ceiling’s eaves—or the ethereal, endless blue sky in my imagination?
It feels like I have nothing above my neck, as if every brain cell has evaporated.
A delicious thread of bitter need winds into the musk, punching its way down my throat.
The faint sweetness I sensed before gets stronger, too.
If this alpha smells like coffee and whipped cream, what are these other aromas? Where are they coming from? How can I smell anything if I’m dying?
My Omega isn’t confused. She locks on the alpha who’s gently brushing messy blonde hair back from my temple. His pupils swallow the thin bands of his mahogany irises, and she whimpers.
“Hello,” he murmurs, answering her small cry. “I see you. Is—Are you Violet? Is she still in there, Omega?”
A fractured sound vibrates on my cracked lips. Fresh wetness—slick—pours from my pussy as everything inside me cinches. Honeyed warmth blooms, filling every particle between us.
Perfume, I think. Real omega perfume.
My perfume?
Another bolt of absolute shock rattles me, followed by a heavy pulse of emotion. Awe… and longing. I don’t know whether it’s mine or my Omega’s. Mists of confusion drift between her thoughts and my own, swirling everything into a thick fog.
The stranger looming over me beams genuine consternation. “Shhh,” he soothes. “That’s okay, Omega. You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help. You can keep Violet safe in there as long as you like, hmm?”
My Omega whines again, torn. More honeysuckle pours into the air. The man grits his teeth. So handsome and careful, even as he grimaces and slowly pulls his hand away from my head.
Rejecting me.
I don’t blame him, really. I’m a shell. Weak and fragile and damaged—and dying.
The truth of that throbs through my body. Another pulse of dull pain, surging through my bones.
If this man leaves… I’m really going to die here.
My Omega hears the thought and knows I’m right. Without this alpha, we won’t live.
If everything she told me is true, she’s stayed hidden, leaving me to suffer alone, for years. All so we could make it.
All to get me—
To him.
Grim determination sweeps through her, heavy as a lead blanket, smothering every objection vibrating at my center. The room swirls around me as my body suddenly jerks upright, using the last of my strength to lunge for the kind alpha’s outstretched hand.
And snap my teeth right over his pulse.