I stepped back from the pile of cards. I had yearned for our omega. Craved her without knowing anything about her. And now that she was real, the possibility of an omega was real, I was coming unglued.
Not only an omega but a scent match.
The rarest kind of mating. The most precious.
And she had to settle for an alpha like me.
No family other than my pack. No money to my name. A fucked-up foster care past.
And just…me.
“We can’t. I’m not. I’m me.”
“First of all, you’re more than enough.” Archer poured some of his alpha power into his voice, calming me. “And we’re a pack. There are three of us here to provide for her and protect her. Besides, there’s more to being mated to an omega than tending to her material needs. So much more.”
“You are more than what you earn,” Talon corroborated. My pack was good at helping me know my worth but at times like these, my lack of self-worth poured back in like a flash flood.
“Maybe. I-I need to run.”
I turned before I could be any more pitiful and sprinted out the back door. My pack followed on my heels. My wolf was emerging. He often did when I was freaking out.
My wolf burst from me. All my worries faded to the background while we ran. Our property went on for forty acres, a huge piece of land we bought not for the dilapidated house but for the running space.
My pack ran behind me, always supporting. We raced along until my mind quieted and I was distracted by a bunny hopping in the distance.
I gave chase but it got away.
Shifting, I kicked a tree trunk. “Fuck. I can’t even catch a rabbit. I’m not ready. I’m not good enough for a mate. I’m not…”
Archer propped his hands on his hips. “Dax, you’re enough. We all are. Get that shit together before next Saturday, okay? She’s out there. Our fated. Our true mate. The one we were made for.”
“Yeah,” I said, the scent now engrained in my senses. “Yeah, okay.”
“Let’s go eat and make plans. We need to get that nest done this week if possible.”
Plans I could get behind. I might not be a genius like Archer or a good cook or rich like Talon, but I could provide for her in other ways. I’d smother her with kisses and affection. Tell her I loved her every day. Make sure she knew she was beautiful and wanted and needed—things I wished someone would’ve said to me.
I might not be the best alpha. but I would be the best alpha for her.
Chapter Seven
Sylvia
Some of the images I painted were of local sights, others from places only vaguely remembered. Wanting each one to be unique required digging deep in my memories, wondering if they were real or just imagination.
It didn’t matter, I supposed, since I wasn’t asserting any of them were a particular place, but as I stroked the brush over the cardstock, they felt very real in my mind. Lakes, rivers, mountains. In reality, I couldn’t possibly have been to them all, but as I lined them up to dry, I recognized that they represented more than places I might have gone or things I’d seen, remembered, or suppressed. They were more than that. Places I wanted to go, things I dreamed of seeing someday.
If I spent the rest of my life secluded in this turret, I’d never see any of that. The week between the first purchase of my work and the following Saturday’sfarmers market, I doubled down to paint as many cards as possible, while still keeping them different and fresh. Excitement vied with nerves as the day grew closer, and I stayed up late, even though I preferred the daylight, wanting to make sure I had enough completed to make it worth my customer’s while. What would he do with all of it?
Maybe he owned a shop of some kind? The fact he was interested in meeting the artist made me think perhaps it was a business that featured local talent. Not that I was talented or anything but I was local. And most of the first batch of cards were done from the actual plants and landscapes. I hadn’t gotten particularly imaginative until now.
The night before the market, I stayed up very late, not stopping work until I recognized that there wouldn’t be time for the paint to dry on any more cards. Then, without even changing to night clothes, I crawled between the sheets and sighed. Showering could wait until the morning. I’d done everything I could, and I’d committed to attending in the morning. Unless I suddenly developed typhoid or something, Iwould have to do it. The very thought of all that exposure made me cringe, but I would not let down the people who made it possible for me to live in my turret in peace.
Expecting to lie awake and worry, I instead fell into a deep and peaceful sleep, not waking until Lily’s voice cut through my dreams.
“Sylvia, are you ready to go?”
Ready? I struggled to sit up and pushed the blankets to the foot of the bed. The one time I had to get up and go somewhere in months, and I overslept. No, I wasn’t ready to go, but it wasn’t as if I could yell, “Wait a second” or “I have to shower.” Now, I had to choose between keeping everyone waiting and going without a chance to freshen up after working for over sixteen hours the day before. No, it was not hard labor, but I still managed to work up a sweat when hurrying to finish. And I was not planning to go out in public stinky.
