Malcolm had to duck to appear in my cottage doorway, so my first glimpse of him in three years was the crown of his head. There was new gray in his hair, and less hair overall. My heart was split in two at the sight—a petty glee burning brightly at the sight of him losing just a little of his perfection that I'd coveted for over a decade, and a darker, sweeter ache, the old fondness, the dreams I'd once savored of us aging together, of my maturity catching up to his in time.
He stood straight, and that small peek at his vulnerability vanished as he blocked the narrow, slightly crooked entrance to my home. He stared at me, a subtle appraisal, and I hid my quaking hands behind my back, knowing he would find more changes in me than I saw in him.
"You look well, omega," he greeted, low voice gentled to be tempting when I knew how well it could thunder with rage. His mouth quirked, but it wasn't a smile. "Still bathing in the river like a girl of sixteen?"
"What are you doing here, Malcolm?" I asked, relieved my voice was strong and clear. I wanted to retreat to the safety of my cottage but refused to step closer to him.
"The alpha passed this morning," he said.
"I heard."
He nodded, his slow, unending study of me making the hair rise on the back of my neck. "We voted to settle the matter. Tomorrow at dawn, we battle for a new alpha."
"I wish you luck," I said.
Malcolm's humored lines deepened at the corner of his eyes, and I ignored the pang of my old bruised heart. "You think I'll compete? Did I seem so ambitious while Lachlan reigned? So discontent?"
I opened my mouth to tell Malcolm all I had seen, his deep bows and the smiles that didn't reach his eyes, the way his fists clenched behind his back when he lied to our alpha's face, the way he used me roughly at night when he'd conceded to Lachlan's decisions. It was too much to share. It would've been like trying to tie our lives back together when I'd worked so hard to sever the false connection.
"Yes," I said instead, shrugging.
Malcolm laughed, but his eyes narrowed on me. "You always were too observant for your own good."
The words stung, just as he'd meant them to, and my eyes skidded away from him, flinching, before I could steel myself. He was likely right. I might be happier today if I'd failed to see what was going on under my nose. Perhaps I might still have some pride intact if I'd never discovered the other women. But there was no mistaking Malcolm's lack of feeling for me, and I'd fooled myself for as long as possible. A girl of sixteen was easy to charm. After ten years under the same roof, that woman of twenty-seven was a touch harder to fool.
At thirty-two, I was tired.
"I intend to fight," Malcolm said, and I nodded.
"You'll take a new omega," I said, meeting his eyes again. I didn't care now what he saw on my face—indifference or injury, it didn't matter. We would be done with another, well and truly.
His head tipped, and a cold trickling warning ran down my spine. "If I rise, yes. But Lachlan's son will be a worthy opponent, as will the others."
I froze. "I've left, Malcolm. I'm not coming back. If you want another bed warmer for the rut?—"
"I can find a new omega easily enough, Brigid. But this cottage is mine by your father's agreement?—"
"It wasn't his to give! Not like that. She left it tome."
"And she left you to him. And he left you to me. And with you, the cottage. You signed the contract."
A trembling hand covered my stomach. I'd signed that contract at seventeen. Signed it before the cottage meant anything to me, before it was my sanctuary, my escape.
"Malcolm—" I started, but my voice was rasping, and I wasted time trying to clear the fear away.
"You can come home to me for the rut. Or you can give up your rights as my omega and vacate my property."
"You don'twantthe damn cottage!" I cried out, my temper snapping free.
Malcolm's eyebrows rose, and there was laughter hidden behind feigned sympathy as he stepped forward. My body swayed as I fought to keep still, to keep from rushing closer and drumming my fists against his chest, or running back to the river and diving deep, as if it might wash away the memory of him. It wouldn't. I feared nothing would.
"I don't, you're right. But it's a fine property and close to the alpha's keep. I could build myself a second home here, for myself and my omega, somewhere to stay. If I'm not the next alpha, I'll have work to put in once more. And if it's Lachlan'sson, he's young. He'll appreciate an older influence." Malcolm approached, and I shook with the rage that would do nothing against him. I wasn't very tall, and while I was strong, he would always be stronger. "As you did, dear Brigid."
I'd been sweet once, a perfect daughter, an ideal omega, nearly lovely if not for a slightly ambitious nose. Malcolm had put his lips to me when I was sixteen, and he'd sucked my sweetness out as if I were a ripe orange, until I was only dry and tough and bitter.
I spat at him as he passed me, something an old washer women might do to keep a curse at bay, and he was too busy looking forward, smug humor written over his handsome face, to see the viscous glob land at his shoulder.
"You always enjoyed yourself, Brigid. There's no use claiming otherwise. And there's still a chance you might get with child. Third time's the charm—isn't that what they say?"
