Taste of Rebellion
“Can I kiss you, mate?”
Saint’s voice stopped me cold just as he swung one leg over the windowsill, the same window he’d climbed through because, obviously, Alphas weren’t supposed to be anywhere near an omega dorm. Rules they said.
The whole twisted system that pretended to “protect” us while literally opening the gates of hell once a month.
I stared at his broad back, the way moonlight carved sharp shadows across his scars.
“What?” I managed, voice small.
He turned, half-in, half-out, eyes bright with something dangerously close to hope. “Can I kiss you?”
“Why?”
A slow, crooked grin spread across his face. “Because I want to taste you.”
My cheeks burned. No filter. Zero shame. Just… him.
“Um, I don’t…”
He didn’t let me finish.
One massive hand, calloused, warm, mitten-sized cupped my jaw with surprising gentleness, tilting my face up. Then his mouth was on mine.
Soft.
So much softer than I expected from someone built like a war machine.
He kissed like I might shatter—slow sweeps of lips, careful brushes over the seam of my mouth, tasting my top lip, then the bottom. A tiny lick. Then he bit down. Not gently.
“Ah…!” The sound slipped out, half yelp, half moan.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes dark and searching.
“Kane was right,” he murmured, thumb brushing the place he’d bitten.
“About what?”
“You taste just as sweet as you look.”
Before my brain could catch up, he flashed that rare, boyish smile, swung the rest of the way out the window, and was gone, melting into the night like smoke.
I stood frozen, fingers drifting to my tingling lips. A helpless little smile crept across my face before I could stop it.
He’d kissed me like glass… then bitten me like he couldn’t help himself.
The same man who could probably snap a spine without blinking… had looked at me like an overeager puppy who’d finally found his favorite human.
I laughed quietly into the empty room. How was this even real?
The door clicked open behind me.
I spun, wiping my mouth fast.
Emma and Lily stood there, staring.
Something clicked into place, sharp, reckless, hopeful.
“I know a way we can protect ourselves during the Purge,” I said.
They blinked at me like I’d suggested we fight God.
Emma let out a nervous laugh. “Scar, babe… there is no protecting yourself. You hide, you run, or you get claimed. That’s it.”
I shook my head. “No. We claim each other first.”
Lily frowned. “What?”
“We form our own pack,” I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Omegas only. We lock ourselves in one room. Barricade the door. Stock suppressants if we can. Fight back if we have to. But we don’t go alone. We don’t let them pick us off one by one like always.”
Milo slipped in then, catching the tail end.
He stared. “You want us to fight the whole damn school?”
“No,” I said softly. “I want us to survive it. Together.”
They looked at each other.
Then back at me.
Lily’s eyes filled with tears but different this time. Not broken. Hopeful.
Emma’s mouth curved, slow and dangerous. “You’re fucking insane.”
I smiled back, shaky, but real. “Maybe. But I’m done being prey.”
? ? ?
The week blurred past.
The Triumvirate didn’t approach me again.
Not directly.
But Saint…
Saint was everywhere.
He’d appear at lunch like a ghost, silently placing little offerings on my tray: fresh strawberries, a protein bar, once even a tiny pressed violet he must’ve found somewhere on campus.
He never lingered long. Just that shy, hopeful smile then he’d duck his head and leave before I could say thank you properly.
The first time I went up on my toes in the middle of the crowded cafeteria and kissed his cheek, the whole room went deathly quiet.
Saint froze.
Then blushed, bright, violent red from his neck to the tips of his ears.
He mumbled something incoherent, ducked his head, and practically bolted.
Emma hissed across the table, “What the hell was that?!”
I shrugged, cheeks warm. “He’s… nice.”
Milo choked on his soda. “Nice? Saint Crowther? The guy who once ripped a Beta’s arm off for breathing in his direction?”
“He brings me flowers,” I said simply.
They all exchanged looks like I’d lost my mind.
Kaiden, though…
Kaiden slid into our little group without anyone officially inviting him.
First he just sat nearby. Then at the edge of the table. Then right in the middle, quiet at first, just listening. Then cracking dry jokes. Then laughing—really laughing—with us.
One afternoon when the conversation turned dark and Lily muttered something about the Purge, Kaiden leaned forward, brows knit.
“Wait. Explain it to me. All of it.”
So we did.
We told him about waking up to screams, about blood on the walls, about the moans and orgies and violence that turned the whole campus into a hunting ground for one night. About how most people walked in blind and left broken.
When we finished, Kaiden’s jaw was tight.
“I’ll protect you,” he said, voice low and serious. “All of you. Whatever it takes.”
Emma laughed, but it sounded fragile. “Sweetheart… you’ll have to live through it once to understand what that really means.”
Milo nodded grimly. “No one protects anyone on Purge night. Not really.”
Kaiden’s jaw tightened. “Then I’ll be the first.”
I looked at him really looked.
He wasn’t joking.
And for some reason… I believed him.
Then the day arrived.