Chapter 37
thirty-seven
Violet’s green gaze trails up my legs, horror draining the color from her face.
I bite back a cringe, cursing internally. Fucking hell. She caught me.
As her cat leaps forward, the omega skitters back, clutching the freckled skin along her sundress’s scalloped neckline. I obviously gave her a fright, sitting here in the unlit hall, balancing my MacBook on my lap.
She must have been too distracted by her new pet to scent me—and I assume she used neutralizing soap to wash up after her morning in the meadow, because I didn’t sense her coming, either.
Until now, I’ve gotten away with silently shadowing her around the manor, carefully keeping no more than a few rooms between us at all times, monitoring for her honeysuckle sweetness, so I can get out of her way before she comes around any corners…
It seemed the most practical, unobtrusive way to make sure she never feels any pain.
I can’t always control the half-bond or where she chooses to wander—and my time belongs to Gideon, first and foremost—but so far, this has worked.
It also, to my eternal shame, seems to be the only way to calm my Alpha long enough to allow me to work.
I’d nearly finished one of the syllabi for my autumn “Intro to Psychology” module before Violet appeared, carrying Ryker’s gift. Now, the little creature sniffs at the toe of my Oxford while his owner strangles a whimper, croaking over it. “Atlas. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
She didn’t expect me to be here, sitting in a chair I dragged out of my new study, loitering in the damn corridor. I repress another wince, snapping my laptop shut and drawing to my feet.
“Yes,” I grunt, gruff. “Well. I just”—wanted to make sure you weren’t in pain—“need to focus on finishing up some things for next semester. My study isn’t unpacked yet, and I find the clutter distracting.”
That much is true. It certainly doesn’t explain why I’m set up in the hallway instead of working in bed beside my napping omega… but thankfully, Violet doesn’t ask any questions.
She nods stiffly. “Right. Of course. I-I wouldn’t have come to your half of the floor, but I was looking for G-Gideon.”
Her nervous stammer twists the knife embedded in my center. I fist my hands, resisting the urge to reach for her as my mind skips, replaying her words. A stone sinks into my stomach.
“Gideon?”
Her head bobs again, but she bites her lip. “I-Is that okay? He’s been—well, I thought he might like to help me pick a name for…”
Her hand shakes as she gestures at her cat. The little hairball pays no mind to either of us, batting at my shoelaces with one of his paws.
I glower at him. He may look harmless, now, but it’s only a matter of time until he uses those same claws to tear up our furniture.
I can’t hold my glare, though. Not when Violet’s whole face softens at the very sight of him. With a soft tut, she scoops up her unnamed feline, securing the tiny beast under her arm. Her next glance is distinctly uneasy.
“You don’t really hate cats, right?” she murmurs.
Sweet baby girl.
I’ve already disappointed her in a hundred other, more vital ways. Can I really heap more disenchantment on top of all my rejections?
My shoulders loosen as I sigh, stifling a purr. “I don’t hate them,” I hedge. Curiosity gets the better of me, wondering whether Ryker has continued his crusade to speak more. “Did Ryker tell you that?”
Violet shakes her head, casting her eyes down. “Finn.”
The way she whispers his name, along with the slight singeing of her scent, has me raising my brows.
So far, Finn is the only one who’s knotted her; a fact my Alpha is much too aware of. And inordinately furious about. At the moment, though, it seems like Violet might be unsure about her other mate.
When she sees my concerned expression, hers pinches. “Maybe he misspoke.”
He most certainly did not. My stance on pets is well-documented. There’s no reason for Violet to feel bad about it, though.
“I’m sure he was just making conversation.” A sardonic smirk twists my lips. “Finn may seem like a practiced flirt, but I bet you make him nervous, omega. He has no experience with courting.”
If Violet were our pack’s omega, it would be my job to guide his efforts.
I would have taught him and Ryker all the best ways to soothe omegas, ease their hormone spikes, and build their trust. Instead, I’m here, half-hiding in hallways.
Watching Violet’s face fill with the sort of apprehension that stabs my heart.
I clear my throat, offering the only reassurance I can. “Finn isn’t nearly as bad as he thinks he is,” I tell her, aiming for a blithe scoff I don’t quite achieve. Especially when my next statement turns my voice to gravel. “I think you might be the first person he’s ever truly wanted to impress.”
Violet absorbs that, biting her lower lip hard enough to blanch it. “I want to impress him, too,” she confesses, hushed. “I’ll try harder.”
Her heartrending earnestness scrapes the back of my sternum. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to sweep in and fix this for her, but it’s no use; I have to at least say something.
“If it takes Finn a while to open up, it’s only because he cares so much,” I explain. “He doesn’t think his past is particularly alluring. If you give him more time, I believe he’ll come around. And I know he’ll be a great alpha. Maybe even a great pack leader.”
She’ll need one. Because it can’t be me.
The heart of the matter hangs between us. Unspoken, but soaking up all our oxygen. The pain buried in my middle pulses as my Alpha fights me, begging to hold his mate.
Just for a moment. Just this once.
He isn’t the only one who wants to—and that’s unacceptable. Yet, as Violet gazes up at me, looking so lost…
Fucking hell.
Her kitten cries, and she snaps to attention, carefully shifting him from her left arm to her right. The way she moves shouldn’t fascinate me, but I find myself staring.
She’s… graceful. Given how flighty she’s been—the rambling, the unnecessary apologies, the paint smudges and grass stains—I thought she might just be clumsy by nature.
But, no.
She’s just been that stressed.
Self-loathing seethes in my stomach. Her claim mark burns under my sleeve. The damn cat meows again.
Violet clears her throat, ducking her head again. “Right. Is Gideon around? I’ll just… go find him.”
My scowl deepens. “He’s asleep,” I reply. “Do you want me to wake him?”
Her eyes widen as she shakes her head. “No! It can wait! I just wanted to make sure I chose a name we all liked.”
Christ. That alone. She’s so kind. Lovely in every way. Respectful. Empathetic. Maybe even wise…
Mate, the voice at my middle answers. Mine.
I swallow past the lump of longing in my throat, grinding my teeth against the nauseous guilt churning in my gut. Then I sigh, considering her furball for a long moment.
“Pascal.”
Violet raises her eyebrows. “Who…?”
“Pedro Pascal is Gideon’s celebrity crush,” I admit. Rueful amusement curves my lips. “Well, Pedro Pascal and Elle Fanning. But your little friend here is a boy, correct? So.”
“Pascal,” Violet repeats. I must make a face because she huffs a tiny, breathless laugh that leaves her eyes sparkling. “Let me guess—Gideon would love how jealous it makes you?”
Hell. She’s only been here five days, and she already has the measure of things. I ignore the thump of approval that drops into my center, but that doesn’t stop it from expanding. Blossoming into something dangerously close to pride.
“Yes,” I agree. “He likes to tease me.”
Violet’s grin is so shy and genuine, my chest aches. “I love that about you two. You keep him grounded, and he makes your life fun. It’s a lovely balance.”
I was correct; she is wise. Seeing things other people would miss or overlook. Placing value where it rightfully belongs.
On Gideon. On the two of us.
“Yes,” I agree, unable to quell my own reluctant chuckle. “He’ll be delighted you’ve chosen to torment me.”
Our gazes hold for just a second too long before Violet sighs and lifts her kitten higher, examining his face. “Well, then,” she hums, still smiling softly. “Pascal it is.”