Chapter 36
thirty-six
“It is lovely…”
My kitten blinks at me, his expression distinctly doubtful. I reach over and sigh, scratching the downy fur between his ears.
Ryker wrote a note in my sketchbook, explaining that he’d found the little guy abandoned outside and started feeding him milk.
He must have taken very good care of him, because the kitten’s coat is shiny and thick.
The black fur stands out in his basket of baby-blue napkins.
I’ve tried to persuade him to join me on the actual bed, but he seems attached to his little cradle.
I can’t blame him. It looks cozy in there.
Almost like a nest—
I shut down my Omega’s errant thought with a head shake. My tiny ball of fluff cocks his own head at me, trying to figure out what I’m doing.
Lord, he is so cute.
Adorable enough for me to smuggle him up to my bedroom, despite Finn cheerfully informing me that Atlas hates cats…
After what Gideon told me about the charming alpha being “a rogue,” though, I’m never sure how much of Finn’s chatter to believe. And, even if I take him at his word, I probably shouldn’t care what Atlas thinks.
He isn’t my alpha, he’s Gideon’s. Apart from accidentally running into me in the garden a few days ago, he’s done everything he can to stay as far away as possible.
My Omega whines, kicking up her usual fuss. After nearly a week here, I’ve almost gotten used to the way she cries whenever I think about the man she bit. Usually, I have Ryker or Finn nearby to distract her. Ryker is doing one of his daily workouts right now, though, and Finn…
I sigh, lifting his first official courting gift from the guest bed’s eyelet comforter. It’s a purse—a very fancy one, if its shiny white Dior box is any indication. I trace the bag’s curves, admiring the pristine yellow leather.
“He picked a good color,” I mutter to my other present. “And it’s… pretty. Very elegant.”
Maximus makes himself known, giving one of his judgmental huffs from the foot of the bed. As if to remind me that I am not elegant. Or perhaps to comment on the fact that Finn, apparently, hasn’t accepted that unfortunate detail yet.
“Maybe he’s hoping I’ll start dressing better,” I defend, casting Maximus a snippy look. “He might be… trying to improve my taste?”
The mastiff glowers at me, his expression landing somewhere between Do you honestly believe that shit? and If he is, doesn’t that sort of make him a jackass?
Which is a fair point, I’ll admit. But Finn doesn’t seem haughty or mean-spirited. He’s been sweet and considerate in every way, really. It isn’t his fault that extravagant gifts and flirtatious banter feel so foreign to me.
The fact remains, every time Finn tries to charm me, I just feel more broken. Like I’ll never be normal enough to enjoy the sorts of surface-level conversations ordinary people have.
It doesn’t help that Gideon’s comments have swirled through my mind on a loop ever since the night of my big heat spike. Is this what he meant about his best friend being “a rogue”? Is Finn more flash than substance? Wouldn’t another, better-adjusted omega be overjoyed by this present?
You’ll see.
Gideon’s ominous statement echoes through my thoughts. My Omega replies with a harrumph of her own, insulted on Finn’s behalf—but, also, on mine. I wince.
Gideon didn’t mean to upset me, I assure her. He’s been nice, too.
It’s true; Gideon and Atlas mostly keep to themselves when they’re both free, but when Atlas is working?
I’ve been surprised by how easy-going Gideon has been around me.
So far, he’s walked me through all the omega products he and Ryker picked out, given me a recipe for Finn’s favorite Bolognese sauce, and taught me how to use the manor’s one TV.
He even helped me find a few of my favorite old movies to play in the background while I finished today’s sketches.
So, no, I don’t think he was trying to upset me when he made those comments about his packmate. I think he was just trying to be honest. Like a friend.
Which might be more concerning?
“It’s not like I can ask Ryker,” I mumble, petting my unnamed kitten again. “He would have to write out a whole explanation. Plus, it feels wrong not to give Finn a fair chance, after everything he’s done for me so far…”
My little friend mewls, arching into my stroking fingers. I smile before I can help myself. “We have bigger issues, anyway; you need a name, sir.”
Ryker wordlessly communicated that this is my present, so I get to pick his title. I could ask Finn if he has any ideas… or Gideon? Maybe both of them? That might be a fun way to get them talking again…
Things between the two friends have been tense since I arrived. Reuniting them is a goal my Omega and I actually agree on, apparently, because she jumps at the thought. I carefully scoop up No Name, tucking him against my ribs.
“Come on, buddy. We’re going to find Gideon.”
He meows again, agreeing or protesting. I coo to him either way, slipping out of the guest bedroom and turning toward the rest of the second floor.
I was timid about leaving my designated space for the first couple of days.
Years of not being able to go where I wanted created a big mental block—and I worried about accidentally harming Atlas if I wandered too much.
But it’s slowly starting to feel more normal to meander down the hallway alone, on a whim.
So far, aside from one walk to the farthest reaches of the manor’s meadow, I haven’t had much pain from the half-bond at all. Keeping it shut must be helpful, along with whatever medications they gave Atlas.
My Omega whines, making her feelings about our shuttered tether abundantly clear. I shake off the goosebumps that rise along my spine, telling her to hush. My new pet must sense her upset, though. His sharp, baby claws abruptly pierce my side.
I bend to kiss his fuzzy head, soothing him with a wimpy omega purr, rounding the corner blindly.
“Oh. Violet.”
I stop short, gasping. This time, I can’t stifle my startled whine. The kitten under my arm squirms free and leaps down, landing beside two large loafer-wearing feet.
Atlas.