Secrets. This house is full of them.
I move silently to the door, pressing my ear against it. The whispers continue for another thirty seconds before footsteps resume their descent. Once they've faded completely, I return to the window, looking out at the admittedly rather nice view.
I smile to myself, the pieces falling into place. The omega is here. Hidden away, but here. The panicked cleaning and redecorating, the defensive postures, the transparent lies… it all makes sense if they're hiding an omega.
Myomega.
The thought comes unbidden, disturbing in its possessiveness. I've never been one to succumb to primitive alpha instincts. Never believed in mystical connections or fairy stories or any of that romanticized bullshit everyone harps on about.
Yet here I am, standing in a stranger's guest room, certain beyond reason that the honeysuckle-scented omega I glimpsed in the shower room is somewhere in this house.
I move away from the window, pacing the length of the room. My head throbs where she hit me, the concussion still makingitself known whenever I move too quickly. But the pain does nothing to diminish the burning need to find her.
The pull that defies all logic.
Chapter
Thirty-Six
WRAITH
The alpha is downstairs.
My phone vibrates on the desk for the twentieth time in ten minutes. Pack chat exploding with updates. I ignore it. Focus instead on Ivy, who's rearranging my bedding with intense concentration while the action movie on the TV provides background noise. Drowns out the sounds in the loft.
She moves with purpose, taking my shirts from the closet, my blankets from storage, arranging everything in careful layers. Her scent has changed since last night. Sweeter. More urgent. The first knotting has eased her heat, but not ended it. Just bought us time.
Time that's now being spent with a threat in our territory.
Valek.
Prowling around downstairs. Circling. Hunting.
My skin prickles with awareness. Territorial instinct grinding against the need to stay hidden with her. Every protective impulse screams at me to confront him. Drive him out.
But I can't leave her side.Won't.
Ivy pauses her nest-building, one of my black hoodies clutched to her chest. "Your phone keeps buzzing," she says, nodding toward the desk. "You should check it."
I shake my head. Don't care about messages.
She raises an eyebrow, that perfect curve of skepticism. "It could be important, Wraith."
Something uncurls in my chest when she says my name. Can't help it. Years without hearing it spoken with anything but fear or disgust. Now she says it easily. Casually. Like it's something precious instead of terrifying.
Her ocean eyes watch me, patient but expectant. With a resigned sigh, I cross to the desk and pick up my phone.
Fifty-six new messages.
Might as well be five thousand.
I hate typing. The screen is too small for my huge, scarred hands.
I scroll through anyway, scanning for anything actually important.
WHISKEY
Valek is DEFINITELY suspicious
