I stare up at his pretty blue eyes in a daze.
He takes a step back and holds me at arms length, his hands rubbing over my arms, shoulders and back before cupping each side of my face. “This was so dumb. Bloody hell, what is wrong with me? Why would I let you do that? Why would I help make it happen? Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
I swallow the thick saliva in my mouth and lick my lips. Everything feels brighter and easier than it did before. Of course Murphy is my scent match. How could I ever doubt it? He smells like home and pancake breakfasts.
Murphy gently shakes my shoulders, his eyes frantically studying my features. “Spitfire, you gotta talk. Tell me you’re okay.”
I can feel the tendrils of Murphy’s panicked aura, but it’s easier to differentiate it from my own feelings. It’s like I came up from the deep depths to take a fortifying breath and with a fresh lung full of air, I can handle what the world gives me.
“I’m okay. I’m more than okay! I’m fantastic!” Relief floods through me.
“I’m sorry, Matilda.” His thumb rubs at my lower lip and cheekbones, trying to soothe himself as much as me. There is such conflict streaming through his aura and I can’t understand why.
I grip his wrist and say, “It worked Murphy. I found me again.”
“It wasn’t worth it.”
His words pull me out of my euphoric high, and the adrenaline wears off. I frown and tremors run up my body.
“You’re going into shock. I’ve got you.” Rubbing gently, he wraps me in his arms protectively and my face presses into his toned chest. After several long moments of comfort he pulls back to look down at me with deep, pained sorrow. I don’t understand why he’s so upset – I had the epiphany we wanted. I know we’re mates. Scent matched by fate. He is mine and I am his.
“I’m an idiot. I don’t deserve you.”
“What? Murphy, I’m trying to tell you I know it’s real. You’re my scent match.”
He shakes his head and steps back, leaving me with my arms outstretched for him. My shivering increases and, without his radiating heat, I’m suddenly aware of how cold it is as the frigid desert air stings my flushed skin.
He frowns and it looks so wrong on his handsome face, his laugh lines pinched with pain. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing anymore. Look what I did to you.”
“You did nothing but help me!” I try to step closer to him and he steps back, holding his hands out to stop my approach.
“My impulsive aura sickness drove you into a pen with a wild horse with the potential to maim and kill you. It’s fucked up, Matilda. I’m not good for you.”
My chest feels tight and another kind of fear grips me. This isn’t the same as the thrilling fear of staring down Bubbles – this leaves me feeling empty.
“You’re my scent match. That’s more than good for me. It’s fate!” I say, my voice catching as a sob ripples through me.
“Fate might have fucked this one up.”
“You can’t mean that.”
Murphy licks his lips and squeezes his eyes shut, like he can’t stand to look at me while he breaks my heart.
“I think we both need a little space and sleep. I’ll take you back to Ida’s and then come visit you in the morning,” he breathes.
He takes my hand, as if he’s decided it’s okay to comfort me again. A wall of determination slides into place, similar to the steadfast assurance I felt streaming from him when he rode Bubbles, but this time it’s paired with soul-aching sorrow.
I hold tight to his hand, like I can somehow tether him to me but, despite the heat radiating from him, I only get colder and colder.
Ten
Murphy
Forfuck’ssake,Murphy.
For once, I want to shout my moniker at myself. I can’t believe I just did that. I put the most precious thing to ever come into my life in danger. Willingly and enthusiastically encouraged her to risk her damn life in some sick need to have my feelings reciprocated.
I’m broken. I’m a dipshit. A damn drongo. No self-respecting Alpha would ever put their Omega in harm’s way. I guess it means I’m not self-respecting and I sure as hell am not a good Alpha for Matilda.
