Chapter 18
eighteen
Am I proud of myself for the way I linger around the corner, listening?
I mean, I’m not ashamed of it…
My mate wants to leave. And we haven’t even met yet.
How could I be anywhere else?
Atlas spares a telling glance in my general direction as he leaves Violet’s room. He knows I’m here, but he isn’t going to bark me into submission.
Maybe he’s hoping I’ll go in there and change her mind. I want to—God, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to use my powers of persuasion more.
But Atlas’s words run through my mind on a loop: You’ve been locked up your whole life, Violet. I won’t become your latest cage.
He’s right, of course. That motherfucker is always right.
Gideon shuffles out next, holding his hand against the side of his skull. His Omega is probably pitching an unholy fit. I don’t blame the guy for having a headache.
The thought reminds me of the object gripped in my hand. The one stupid offering I have for this woman.
I know I should go. Walk back downstairs—or return to my own room.
But, if she’s really choosing to leave…
Can I honestly let her go without at least meeting her?
There could not be a worse time than right now. Years of charming people have taught me that timing is half the battle. More than half, in most cases. Knowing when to approach someone is a particular skill of mine.
A memory barrels into my mind—a night, over a decade ago, when everything changed for me. All because I picked my moment perfectly.
Gideon takes two paces away from Violet’s door, stepping into the shadows before he turns and pins me in place with his gray eyes. For a second, something close to hatred burns under his tight features, and I swear he’s remembering the same night.
My Alpha prods me with his Morality Stick. Reminding me that Gideon has always had every reason to despise me, despite doing the exact opposite.
He’s treated me like a friend. A brother. Even though I essentially blackmailed him.
I don’t think I’ve ever truly let myself think about it that way. But as we stand on opposite sides of Violet’s open door, breathing the stress that rolls off all three of us…
Fuck.
I really am a thief.
And now I’m one of the reasons this other omega has invaded Gideon’s pack.
I try to shove my Alpha and his conscience back in their shoebox, but he isn’t budging. Not with Violet’s burnt wildflowers and smoldering honey soaked into the hallway’s musty air.
Gideon reads me too easily. His shoulders round, weighed down by my latest betrayal. He tries to cock a sneer, but it just looks like the bleakest grimace in history.
With a gentlemanly nod, he extends his hand toward her room. As if to say, Well, go ahead, if you think you can do better. By all means.
Can I do better? As I watch my best friend turn away from me, betrayed and heartbroken, I really doubt it.
I mean, Jesus Christ. I came down here to seduce her.
I chose this outfit specifically hoping to send this poor, lost little omega into a heat-spike.
Silk pajama pants—the sort of slippery, soft fabric omegas love.
And, yeah, sure, fine. I also happen to know this ivory color looks very good with my bare, tanned chest…
But that is not the point.
Gideon disappears around the corner, heading to the room he was so excited to share with Atlas just twelve hours ago. Dread balloons in my middle. Jittery energy shoots through my veins, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
My stomach flips inside out and squirms. There’s a solemn weight where my Alpha sits, waiting for me to catch on. When I don’t understand what he isn’t saying, he nudges me toward Violet’s open room.
Just look, he orders. A directive and a warning.
So I do. I lean around the doorframe and peer into the dim space.
It’s too small for her. Unfurnished. Dusty. Like the rest of the house I took without a single thought for how I should care for it.
I barely notice the bedroom, though.
Because Violet is on the small double bed, curled into a ball, facing the opposite wall.
Sobbing.
God. Fuck.
I don’t know what the hell Atlas is experiencing, but I firmly believe nothing could hurt this badly. My insides heave and twist.
Because I understand, now.
I can’t charm my way into or out of this. There aren’t enough opportune moments or seductive silks in the world to fix it.
I can’t steal this woman.
I’m going to have to earn her.
I blow out a deep breath and reach up to knock on the doorframe. Trying to announce myself before I simply appear.
The sniffling inside the room abruptly stops. I wince. Shit. This is really not ideal…
But my mate deserves a courageous alpha. So, fuck it. I’m going in anyway.
Sliding into view, I try for a mildly sheepish smile and a joke. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
Good GOD.
That was so dumb.
Especially since it’s the middle of the night.
My omega seems to agree. Her big eyes flutter as she attempts to absorb my jackassery. Or, perhaps, the way these pants fit.
Because—okay, yeah, I admit—they’re a bit snug in the crotch.
Considering I’ve been hard for eighteen hours, I don’t think there’s much I can do to avoid that.
Sure enough, as Violet’s green eyes roll down my body, they snag on my straining erection. Honeysuckle perfection thickens the air, but she scoots backward, hiding half of her body behind one of her borrowed pillows.
Shit, shit, shit.
My purr starts up before I can help myself. “Hey, it’s okay,” I say. Dumbly. Without a speck of proof. “I’m just here to—”
Bring you your frying pan?
Be your personal stud service?
Finally find out what your voice sounds like when you say my name?
My throat works over another obvious swallow. I cast my eyes around her sparse room, trying to find something to help.
There’s nothing, aside from the cast-iron skillet dangling from my left hand. I wince as I hold it up, showing her that I come in peace.
Geez. No wonder this thing left a dark purple bruise on my cheek. It is weighty.
It’s amazing how little I care about her marking up my face card.
Every time I try to summon any sort of outrage about it, I just think about how scared she must have been to make that trap in the first place.
Not to mention how brilliant it was, fashioning the only heavy object she had in that attic into a weapon.
OMG. Of course.
Moving slowly, I bend to set the frying pan on the bench at the foot of her double bed. “Here. You can take another swing at me if I do anything that frightens you. Just try to aim for my left cheek, okay? Even things up a bit.”
Violet continues blinking in shock, but her perfume thickens, and her slack lips suddenly snap closed. It isn’t exactly a smile, but…
“Th-thanks,” she whispers, snatching the cookware with the sort of speedy grace only an omega would have.
My purr pumps up to a smooth roar. Violet’s eyes drop to my vibrating chest as she hugs the skillet to hers. For a moment, I just stare, drinking her in.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. And scared. Her fine features are ashen, the full curve of her lower lip quivering with each breath. Her hair flows well past her backside, brushing the middle of her thighs. It acts like a web, capturing silvery moonbeams in its golden snare. Turning her into a beacon.
It’s amazing how something so small can light up the whole room. Like a firefly.
Hell, she even has big, bug eyes right now. They blink at my naked torso, reminding me to flex for her.
If I expected applause, I’m doomed to disappointment. Instead, a befuddled little frown quirks her light pink lips as she snaps her gaze back to my face.
Huh.
Well.
That’s never happened before.
Violet clings to her frying pan tighter. Her focus briefly flits to Ryker’s damn dog, who lies at the foot of her bed like he’s trained for cock-blocking instead of combat.
Having him there must make her feel better, though, because her bony shoulders droop slightly. She chances another timid glance at my face. “I—I’m Violet. I—I’m sorry, I don’t feel so well, right now, and I—I don’t remember if we ever, um, met.”
Dear sweet baby Jesus.
I just showed up in this omega’s room, without a shirt, and I haven’t even told her my name?!
Someone should probably just euthanize me at this point.
“I guess we didn’t, really,” I admit, cringing as I scratch the back of my neck. Embarrassment floods my cheeks with heat. “I’m Finn.”
Violet bobs her head, but the motion looks oddly absent. Dazed. “I think I knew that.”
My heart pangs. Poor baby. This must be so much for her. Our names, our scents. This strange place, with all our secrets and past sins stacked in its dusty corners.
She swallows hard, biting her lip for a long second before she stumbles over our pack leader’s name, “A-At-Atlas said you were my—”
Suddenly, my eyes refuse to leave hers, but I nod slightly. “Mate,” I rumble, without a single hint of charm. “Yeah. I think I am.”
For one awful, dangling moment, I worry this is one-sided. Does she sense it, too? Have I made all of this up?
I have to know. Even if it’s the least confident, least sexy question in the world.
“Do you feel it?” I ask.
Violet inhales, then sways slightly. “I—Yes. I do. I mean, I did, even before. In my—In the attic. When you both came in. I couldn’t see you, but I knew you were there, somehow.”
Relief bursts behind my sternum, though it’s short-lived. Because, shit—was she this pale a second ago? And why is her perfume getting so strong?
My mind stumbles back over the day, trying to remember everything the doctor said and the discharge papers she gave us. There was a lot of stuff in there about touch-starvation… heat-spikes… and easing.
Oh fuck.
My brow creases. “Are you… okay? The doctor said you might feel, uh…” I clear the block in my windpipe, coughing over my purr. “Needier than usual. If you’re having a heat-spike, I could try to help. If you’d, uh, want that…”
Violet’s answering blink is laggy. “Heat-spike,” she repeats, tasting the words. Her pupils yawn wider. “O-oh.”
Her obvious alarm draws me nearer. I take two more steps, keeping my movements slow and my voice low. “It’s okay,” I assure, even though I have no idea whether it’s true. “Have you… ever had one before, though?”
“Had one,” she repeats, her eyes glossing. “Had what?”
Ah, hell. Grim certainty impales my chest. She’s already in a haze. “A heat-spike,” I say again.
Her features abruptly crack, tears streaming from her pretty green eyes. This time, I don’t have a prayer of stopping myself. I stagger closer, sweeping into the blank space beside her as she starts to sob.
“I—I’m sorry,” she cries again. “I d-don’t know what’s happening. I’m just—it hurts, all of a sudden, and I—I can’t—”
Her whine is a shard of glass, slicing into my soul. Pain throbs under my lungs while my purr stutters. I find myself scooting closer. My hands hover between us, not sure what to do next.
Do I touch her? Go get Atlas? Give her my mouth, or my cock, or my knot?
Or maybe just… comfort?
That word flashes across the front of my skull like a marquee. Instincts snap forward, grabbing it with both hands.
My omega doesn’t just need easing. She needs comfort.
I’m not sure how I know what to do; how quickly to move, how long to hold my pauses.
I only know that I manage to eliminate the last bit of distance between us.
When I pull Violet into my lap, she trembles hard enough for me to feel it in the air.
My left arm slides around her too-thin waist, leaving an open space for her to move around me if she feels the sudden need to escape.
Christ, she’s so small. So damn breakable.
But not broken. Never that. Not as long as I’m fucking breathing.
I raise my right hand to touch her face, skimming her pronounced cheekbone. The satin-soft skin is damp. Tears.
They rip all the oxygen out of my lungs. A torn sound scrapes up my throat. “Come here, honey.”