Chapter 25
twenty-five
“She stays.”
They’re the first words Ryker has said in months.
And they’re made of iron.
I could flex my dominance, snap them into pieces… but Ryker is speaking.
He struggled for it. In fact, it took ten minutes of listening to the rest of us argue over the best course of action before he finally managed the bark.
I’m not sure what pushed him over the edge. Once the words started, he grated out more. Not many, but enough to explain how he knows this omega.
Because she was his mate, long before he found us. The one he recognized even when she didn’t have a scent.
His daisy, he’s always called her. I thought it was her name—now I realize, that was his name for her. Either one he chose or one he was given as a decoy.
Daisy.
When I first found Ryker, he was practically feral, but he managed to say that word again and again. It took months for him to communicate who she was to him.
Even before he lost the woman he believed was his mate, Ryker’s past was horrific.
He started out in series of foster homes, until he got a juvenile record for fighting and starting fires.
He was sentenced to a stint in a “behavioral rehabilitation center,” where he designated as an alpha…
and was subsequently transferred to the “research” facility that held him captive.
The same one Violet started out in.
I already knew about his personal history, but hearing the few details he manages to tell us about his past with Violet fills in the rest of the blanks.
He was in love with her, but he couldn’t speak to her.
They kept him muzzled and drugged to the point where the two of them couldn’t even exchange their names.
And when his Alpha refused to go into rut for any of their other “specimens”?
Their former captors claimed they had killed Violet as his punishment.
All this time, Ryker thought his mate was dead because of him. Really, she’s been alive, all along. Shunted from one facility to another until her evil guardian dumped her in that abandoned attic—and then got his own foolish, greedy ass murdered by the Blackwoods.
Now that Violet and Ryker have found another again, separating them is unthinkable. After what she’s endured, though, I hold her autonomy in the absolute highest regard. If she still wants to leave when she wakes up, I won’t stop her.
I meant what I said; I won’t be her cage.
And, if nothing else, I will ensure she’s never trapped again. Even if I have to fight my packmate over it.
It’s the least I can do, given she’s my mate.
Ryker won’t let go easily. “She stays,” he says again, painfully scraping each syllable out. But still speaking to me, damn it.
Pure desperation pulls at his rugged features. Begging us to understand.
This isn’t only the woman the Blackwood Pack has been looking for.
Or our scent-matched omega.
Or Gideon’s worst nightmare.
This is also Ryker’s daisy. The one he blamed himself for crushing—to the point where his Alpha refused to let him talk.
How can we ask him to let her go? How would he ever be able to?
I see the same questions written across Gideon’s face. They echo through the room, unspoken, yet expanding every second. Absorbing all the air. Filling the spaces between my packmates—and fracturing our connections.
Finn is clearly so jealous, he doesn’t know how to process it. I watch him stare at the way Ryker’s looped himself in Violet’s hair. His artfully stubbled jaw works as he grinds his teeth, his empty hands flexing into fists while he vibrates in place.
His expression highlights my failures. I’ve been so preoccupied in trying to make this better for Gideon, I haven’t been considering the others.
Finn met his mate yesterday. He never wanted one, or expected to have one. He clearly has no idea how to manage this… but it must be agonizing to watch Ryker hold her and hear how connected they already are.
He needs time with her. Ryker, too. Otherwise, how are either of them supposed to choose whether they’re going to go with her or stay here? And how would she ever decide if she wants to accept them?
She needs to stay.
A deep vein of sadness carves a path through my middle, soaking into the pain pulling under my diaphragm. For a moment, I’m grateful I figured out how to shove a makeshift door between Violet and me—I don’t want her to feel the heavy ache of sorrow. Especially not in her dreams.
Hell. This is a mess.
Ever intuitive, Gideon senses my inner turmoil. He tries to hide his answering quiver, but his clamped lips wobble slightly. The dam inside me bursts.
“Come here,” I tsk, pulling him into my side. “I know this is stressful, but Daddy’s here, hmm? We’ll sort this out.”
Gideon stiffens, but only for a second. Then he burrows closer, strangling a whine. My hand follows the line of his spine, coming up to clasp the nape of his neck—his favorite grounding touch. A mild thread of maple sweetness winds into the air as his taut shoulders slacken.
His brown-sugar-pecan perfume always settles me, but it typically elicits nervousness from Finn and rage from Ryker. This time, though…
Finn gazes at us with a wholly unfamiliar, plaintive expression. Longing, I think. Not because he’s lusting after my omega—but because he wants what we have with his own.
Ryker, on the other hand, simply turns his face into Violet’s crown and inhales her honeysuckle scent. It seems to soothe whatever bitter memories Gideon’s perfume triggered. His craggy features smooth out when he closes his eyes…
…just as Violet’s spring open.
I only catch the way her nose twitches because I’m paying attention. No one else notices her nostrils flare a second before her lashes flutter. Or how her focus doesn’t fly to any of us first.
No.
It goes to Gideon.
Did… his perfume wake her?
And why do I suddenly sense an answering waft of summertime sweetness—wildflower honey and sunshine, layered over the sweet nuttiness.
Fucking hell.
The combination nearly kills me on the spot.
My heart staggers, skipping two beats as everything inside me reorients.
My knot ticks full, hardening my cock along my inseam.
Gideon feels it pressing into his hip and starts to rub himself against me.
When he realizes he isn’t the only one I’m smelling, though, he instantly snaps straight and steps away.
Christ.
We need a plan.
Violet keeps her glowing green eyes on my prince. Her confusion slowly dissipates, leaving horror behind. She tries to jerk upright, but Ryker growls softly, holding her closer. When Violet whips her face around to his, her dismay shatters into the purest sort of pain.
I don’t even need to watch. I feel it all, flowing from her side of our tether. She doesn’t understand why Gideon’s perfume has woken her up—twice, now. She knows she should be doing everything possible to get away from his pack.
But she can’t imagine walking away from Ryker.
Finn clears his throat, ducking his head as he shifts on his feet. Inside, Violet gives a distinct thwack of guilt. Her brows crease in a wince. It’s clear she feels bad for leaving him in her bed and doesn’t know what to do about it.
Poor baby girl.
Gideon must sense her upset, too. His tension ebbs as quickly as it appeared, leaving his shoulders hunched in defeat.
Their eyes clash—luminous gray to verdant jade.
Right now, they seem more like a flashing thunderstorm, rattling tender spring buds.
He sighs and tries to force himself into graciousness.
“Good morning,” Gideon says, only slightly rasping the words.
Violet still shivers. Inside, I feel the way fear tries to swallow her voice. “G-good morning.”
Ryker huffs a grunt, as if he can’t possibly imagine what’s “good” about today. Finn’s lemon-verbena musk sharpens.
I turn to my omega and release a deep sigh, kissing his temple before I face the woman on Ryker’s bed. Gesturing at our blond packmate, I try for a small smile, despite the roil in my gut.
“We were just discussing our plan. We… assume this changes things,” I say, working to sound neutral.
It’s easy to see that our desires affect her much more than the average person, but it’s important that Violet has the autonomy to decide what she wants. Giving her space for that will be imperative, no matter what she chooses.
Violet swallows before turning toward Ryker. Their gazes meet. Rich, dark vanilla and honeysuckle spin into the air.
Instead of answering me, she slides her eyes over to Gideon. “I—I’m so sorry,” she stammers. “I can still go. I’ll—I’ll—”
My omega flits his focus to my fisted hands, the tense lines of my shoulders. The gears in his mind visibly spin, weighing my pain against his. In the end, his bark is only slightly curt.
“Stay,” he tells her, still staring up at me.
The command cracks through the room, as potent as any other omega bark. I could probably resist it if I had to… but I’d never want to.
Gideon watches me root myself in place, obeying. He sighs, gentling his tone before he turns to Violet. “Like I said last night, you’ll both suffer if you leave.” My omega shrugs, the motion deceptively casual. “So, stay.”