Chapter 33 #2
As if she’s reading my mind and wants to prove my suspicions correct, Violet sinks her teeth into her bottom lip until it blanches. Her train of thought must wind back to her heat-spike, because her scent shifts—soaring, then singeing.
“Earlier tonight,” she peeps, eyes widening with anxiety, “did I hurt Atlas? Again?”
Sweet fucking girl.
My hand lands on hers before I can think better of it, curling over her trembling fingers. “No,” I reply, though it’s only partly true. “He’s—”
Images from our time together flash through my head. Yeah, the blocked rut was painful, but I got him through it. Multiple times.
Thick maple perfume fills the room as I clear my throat, finishing, “I took care of him, okay? You don’t need to worry about Atlas.”
I expect her to relax, but she flinches. “Right, of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that I’m—That he’s my—”
Shit. Her stammering would be sort of cute, if her honeysuckle essence didn’t burn to ash. My Omega tastes her fear and huddles into a tighter ball of his own.
I stroke my quivering fingers over hers. “Hey,” I say, tilting my head to catch her gaze. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m—”
I’m sorry.
Sorry I’m not kinder, more selfless, and more understanding. Sorry I use sarcasm when I should use smiles. Sorry I basically guilted her into staying here, just long enough for her to experience everything I’m not going to let her take from me.
And, most of all, sorry that I met her mate and fell in love with him before she could… because she was stuck in hell.
If she’d been allowed to go to school, I have no doubt she would have qualified for every scholarship under the sun.
Would she have wound up at Columbia, too?
Would Atlas have encountered her first? Would he have spotted her golden hair across the quad or caught her gentle perfume winding through the library stacks?
God. Maybe.
As I stare at her crestfallen face, her shining, downturned gaze…
Suddenly, I wonder if any of these alphas have truly thought about everything she’s missed out on.
Big things, like an education—but a million other smaller things, too.
Dumb movies, seasonal ice cream flavors, pressing her toes into the grass.
Hell, I bet none of them have even taken her outside yet.
“Here,” I husk, gripping her fingers tighter while my free hand stuffs a couple of apples into the pocket of my robe. “I have an idea.”
Violet hesitates, her nervous eyes darting to the dark windows. The rain has dissipated. Somewhere in the midst of our first real conversation, the storm either broke or moved on.
“It’s over now,” I assure her, turning the deadbolt. “C’mon.”
I don’t know why my Omega is pushing this right now. It’s almost sunrise—too late for the best stars and too early for any warmth. But she needs it, he whispers, deigning to speak to me for reasons I can’t comprehend. A solid beat of insistence answers my dismay. Trust me.
I repeat his words out loud, setting one foot on the threshold and looking over my shoulder at her. “Trust me?”
She’s scared, for some reason, but it’s perfectly safe. And, sweet girl that she is, she doesn’t have the heart to say no to me. I normally wouldn’t insist, but this is the first Omega instinct I’ve had in a long time that doesn’t fill me with shame or uncertainty.
Violet seems to sense how steady I feel. She blinks at my intense expression and nods slowly, keeping her fingers curled around mine as I lead her over the stone patio to the beginning of our lawn.
It’s more of a meadow, really. And still a little torn up from the party Finn threw three nights ago.
With a designated garden off to the far right, leading to the front drive, and rolling hills full of wildflowers spread in all other directions.
Lavender, thistle, even daisies, like Ryker’s nickname for her.
Violet probably can’t see much of it, if any. But she still drops my hand and drifts past me as if in a trance. Her slippers squeak on the soaked pea gravel under her, then meet the springy carpet of wet grass and stop.
With her back to me, all I see is her impossibly long curtain of blonde hair. It flutters in a cool, damp breeze. Her shoulders tense.
It’s probably been years since she was outside like this. Free to roam or run or even just… be.
When she doesn’t move a muscle, I start to doubt myself and drag in a lungful of rain-chilled air, hunting for her scent. Honeyed gold bursts over my senses. I swallow another unexpected whine. Only, this time, it isn’t from envy or dread. And my own perfume melds with hers.
Because she’s not scared.
She’s happy.
Before I can even wipe the stupid smile off my face, Violet turns and flies right at me. The sudden move doesn’t spark the urge to run or duck. Instead, my arms fall to my sides, allowing her to hug my neck.
“Gideon,” she breathes, hugging me. “I’m outside.”
God. The awe shimmering in her voice. The tears brightening her eyes. Fuck me.
I give in, circling her in an embrace of my own, folding her close, and setting my chin on top of her head. “Yeah,” I chuckle, hoping the low laugh will hide the hoarse lump in my throat. “You’re outside, Vi.”
Tension leeches from my posture as she clings to me. Another gust of wind ruffles her hair, drawing my gaze. In a moment of pure insanity, I wonder how it might feel if I ran my fingers through it.
The thought barely has a chance to register before my Omega nudges my hand into the warm strands at her nape. I trace one silken wave, curling the end around my pinky. Promising myself I’ll never do it again.