Now that she was finally here, finally within reach, the restraint was killing him.
"Soon," I told him, and I meant it. "Forty-eight hours, maybe less. Then she's ours."
Caleb's ice-blue eyes met mine, and for a moment I saw everything he was feeling—the hunger, the desperation, the love so fierce it bordered on violence.
"She'd better be," he said quietly. "Because I don't know how much longer I can do this. Seeing her. Smelling her. Knowing she's right there and I can't?—"
He broke off, turning back to the bag. Thud. Thud. THUD. I left him to his violence and continued down the hall.
Ava's door was closed but not locked, we wanted her to feel like she had some freedom of movement, even if that freedom was an illusion. I knocked once, a courtesy that probably surprised her, and waited.
No answer. I could hear her breathing on the other side. Could smell her through the door, burnt sugar and ripe peaches and the electric crackle of ozone, so much stronger now than it had been even yesterday. Her heat was close. Closer than I'd estimated.
"I'm coming in," I announced, then opened the door.
She was in the nest, exactly where I'd left her that morning. But she'd been busy while I was gone. The nest had grown,more blankets pulled from the closet, more pillows arranged in careful walls around the mattress, a structure that was becoming increasingly elaborate. Increasingly desperate.
Her body knew what was coming. It was preparing, even if her mind refused to accept it.
"What do you want?" she asked, not looking at me. Her voice was rough, hoarse from crying or screaming or both.
"To check on you." I leaned against the doorframe, keeping my distance. Not because I was afraid of her—I could have her pinned in seconds if I wanted—but because crowding her now would be counterproductive. "How are you feeling?"
She laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "How do you think I'm feeling? You kidnapped me, drugged me, locked me in a room, and told me I'm going to go into heat whether I like it or not. I'm feeling fantastic."
"Sarcasm. Good sign. Means you're not in shock anymore."
Those green eyes finally met mine, blazing with fury. "I'm going to kill you. All of you. The first chance I get, I swear to God?—"
"You won't." I said it simply, without malice. "You'll hate us for a while. You'll fight us. You'll probably try to escape at least three more times before you accept that it's impossible. But you won't kill us." I pushed off the doorframe and took one step into the room. Just one. "Because despite everything, despite the anger and the fear and the violation of everything you think you want, some part of you is relieved to be here."
"That's not?—"
"It is." Another step. She was watching me like a cornered animal, her whole body tense, ready to bolt. But there was nowhere to run. "You've been exhausted for three years, Avalon. Running on fumes and fear, never sleeping well, never eating enough, never letting yourself relax for even a moment. Now that's over. Now you're here, with us, and no matter how muchyou hate it—some part of you is glad you don't have to run anymore."
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her eyes were shimmering with tears she was trying desperately not to shed. I stopped at the edge of the nest. Close enough to touch, if I reached out. I didn't.
"You're wrong," she whispered finally, but there was no conviction in it. No fire.
"I'm not." I crouched down, bringing myself to her level, and for a long moment we just looked at each other. The girl I'd loved since she was ten years old. The woman I'd spent three years hunting. The Omega who would belong to us before the week was out.
"Your heat will hit within the next day or so," I said quietly. "When it does, you'll have a choice. You can fight it, suffer through it alone, try to satisfy yourself with your own hands, make yourself miserable for days while your body screams for something you won't give it. Or you can let us help you."
"Help me." She laughed again, but it cracked in the middle. "That's what you call it? Helping?"
"Yes." I held her gaze, letting her see the sincerity there. The hunger, yes, I couldn't hide that, didn't want to, but the sincerity too. "I know you don't believe me. I know you think this is all manipulation and cruelty and whatever else you've convinced yourself we are. I've loved you for seven years, Avalon. I've watched you suffer and wished I could take your pain away. I've dreamed about holding you, caring for you, giving you everything you've been denying yourself."
I reached out, slowly, giving her time to pull away. She didn't. My fingers brushed her cheek, feather-light. She shuddered at the contact, her eyes falling half-closed, a soft sound escaping her throat.
"When your heat comes," I murmured, "let us take care of you. Let us show you what it could be like. And if you still hate us after, if you still want to run, still want to fight, still want to pretend you don't belong to us, then we'll deal with that. But give us a chance first. That's all I'm asking."
For a long moment, she didn't respond. Just sat there, trembling, my fingers still resting against her cheek. Then she pulled away. Turned her face. Retreated deeper into the nest like it could protect her from me.
"Get out," she said, her voice shaking.
I stood. "I'll have Leo bring food in an hour. Try to eat something. You'll need your strength."
"Get. Out." I went. But I paused at the door, looking back at her one last time. She'd curled into a ball in the center of her nest, surrounded by blankets and pillows and all the soft things she'd been collecting for three years without understanding why.
