Chapter 51
fifty-one
I wake to a single daisy on my nightstand, along with a scrap of paper.
Having a rough night, Ryker’s note says. But I left you Maximus. Hopefully, I’ll be back before you wake up, little daisy. If you need a knot, come get me, or go wake up Pretty Boy.
The final line makes me giggle. Over the last few days, Ryker has steadily practiced spending the night with me.
It started by necessity, since his Alpha refused to leave my side after his rut.
But he still has trouble sometimes—and always acts grumpy about sharing me with Finn, even though I know he’s grateful for his packmate.
I hunt for my phone, wondering what time it is. So far, without anyone else to call or text, the technology has most been used as a fancy clock. And occasionally a recipe finder. Before I can find it, I hear a rumble outside, rattling my windowpane.
Thunder.
Suddenly, every inhale feels like I’m sucking air through a straw.
Shit. The storm that loomed off in the distance all day has finally chosen a direction.
Finn told me to wake him if Ryker had to slip out, but when I finally grab my phone, the screen says it’s well after 3 a.m.
My Omega pushes me out of bed anyway. Images flash through my memory—things she kept blocked for so long.
I knew that I hated thunderstorms—and I suspected it had something to do with the night my “father” had men from the first facility take me from my bed. Now that my Omega is here with me, though…
She remembers everything.
How I woke to a hand around my face, shoving a gag into my mouth. The way lightning lashed the sky, sending eerily cool flashes into my former bedroom. Illuminating Briar where she slept, so innocent and unaware.
They pointed at her, as a threat. Making sure I knew she would be coming with me if I dared to wake her with my thrashing resistance. All the while, thunder rolled on the horizon, the sinister vibrations echoing the panic reverberating inside me.
It feels the same now, even though I have no immediate reason to be afraid. It doesn’t matter. I’ve lived with this irrational fear long enough to know that logic, self-scolding, and mind-over-matter won’t fix it.
Pascal is utterly unconscious on the ridiculous kitty castle Finn got him yesterday, but Maximus stirs as I pad past. He must scent my stress, because he growls as he glances around, searching the dim room for a threat he won’t find.
“It’s all in my head, buddy,” I tell him, voice quivering. “No dragons for you to slay out here.”
Genius that he is, the mastiff seems to understand. His gaze is heavy as he watches me fumble with my robe’s sash. Instead of going back to sleep, he lumbers to his paws and follows me into the dark hallway.
Yikes. It’s worse out here, where the floorboards squeak, and the thunder seems to shake the whole damn house. It’s an illusion—the hall is just narrow and old, prone to more echoes and creaks—but my brain is useless right now. It can’t decide where to steer me. Finn’s room? Ryker’s?
Shame joins the roil inside me when I realize where my Omega is trying to go—around the corner, to the door on the right. Into the Omega Suite that isn’t mine.
The voice in my middle doesn’t care how much he doesn’t belong to me; she just wants Atlas.
…
I just want Atlas.
Memories skitter through my chaotic thoughts. Images of the way he grounds Gideon, draws him in, holds him safe. I try to argue with myself, reminding my problematic Omega that she has two alphas all her own.
It’s not the same, though, and I know it. Finn is wonderfully comforting and affectionate, but he’s still learning how to be steady in the eye of a storm, figuratively speaking. And Ryker, well—he’s already fighting his own demons tonight.
It has to be Atlas.
But it can’t be.
So instead of stumbling to the Omega Suite, I let my fingertips brush Maximus’s leather collar and duck into the room across from Gideon and Atlas’s.
The pack alpha’s study sits empty, aside from the few pieces of furniture that arrived this week and boxes of books that still need unpacking.
It’s a big room, large enough for a workspace and a lounge area.
The light switch doesn’t work, and there aren’t any lamps scattered around, but the back wall of the library-like space is one large pane of glass.
The left span of bookshelves is half-full—and one of the two leather club-style sofas has been unwrapped. The other couch and his desk are covered with thick plastic.
The room smells purely of him, though. Rich espresso and sweetened cream swirl through the damp air, loosening my tight lungs for half a second.
Before another, larger bolt of lightning splits the sky. Framed perfectly by Atlas’s lovely arched window.
My Omega reacts before I can, dropping me to the floor behind the unwrapped sofa. A whine ekes out of me, loud enough to rival the electricity snapping outside.
Maximus growls again, restlessly pacing a circle beside me as I curl into a ball, hug my knees, and hide my face in them. The big dog restlessly lowers himself to his haunches, watching me tautly. I kick myself for not going to Finn or Ryker when I was still capable of standing.
Maybe if I crawl…?
My Omega won’t hear of it. She isn’t leaving this room—Atlas’s space and scent—for anything. Even if, deep down, there’s something about it that sends her panic notching higher with each breath.
Is it because my other alphas haven’t been in here? Or—
Thunder clangs as another pulse of white light snaps into the room, illuminating the man on the threshold, wearing silky boxers and a familiar fleece-lined robe.
“Violet?”
Gideon repeats my name, his eyes scanning the dark room until he finds me huddled behind the couch. He lurches into motion, the twain ends of his robe billowing behind him as he darts over to me.
If anyone else tried to approach me so quickly, I’d probably panic—not to mention what Maximus is likely trained to do if he sensed an attack.
But as the aroma of burnt pecans and bubbling maple syrup spills over Atlas’s essence, the nausea pricking my stomach recedes.
My whimper goes from pure terror to desperation.
“Sweet girl,” Gideon murmurs, going to his knees. Maximus shuffles back to give the other omega space. Gid reaches for me without hesitation, fitting his larger, smoother hands around my elbows to lift me into his arms.
“Fuck, you’re shaking,” he mutters, pressing his cheek to my crown. “What happened, huh? Are you hurt? Is it the half-bond?”
I open my mouth, but that only summons another whine.
Gideon tsks, falling to his backside without any of his usual poise.
Bringing me with him, into his lap. He’s not as broad as the alphas, but he’s still big enough to tuck me under his chin.
His naked chest presses along the length of my arm, warming the goosebumps pebbled there.
At first, I think the vibration sinking through my skin is an extension of the ominous thunder outside. Then I hear it—a small, smooth buzz that tickles my ears, sending a wash of unexpected pleasure over my sizzling nerves.
A purr.
Gideon’s purr.
I blink in awe, trying to peer at his face through my swimming vision. The artful planes of his forehead, the aristocratic curves of his brows, and his upturned nose. Sculpted hollows under his cheeks. The fullest, most chiseled lips.
He frowns in consternation, running luminous gray eyes over my features. A solid sort of softness suffuses his gaze.
“C’mon,” he whispers, carefully shifting to put us both on our knees. His grace returns as he rises to his feet and reaches for me. My body stays crouched, fighting the fear that ricochets in my chest.
“W-where are we going?”
Gideon bends to gently take my hand, giving me no choice but to follow his lead when he turns for the door. “To our alpha.”