What’s life without a little danger?
17
SETH
It’s past midnight, and I’m standing over June’s bed like a goddamn creep.
The door is shut behind me. Has been for… I don’t even know how long. Enough that my legs should be cramping, but I can’t make myself move or leave. Can’t do anything except stand here in the dark and watch her breathe like that’s somehow going to fix the gnawing hunger under my ribs.
She’s asleep and has been for hours. I’m losing my fucking mind.
It’s not just the scent match. I keep telling myself that, but I’m not sure it’s true anymore. The connection between us is electric. But it’s more than biology. More than instinct.
It’sher.
The moonlight streams through the curtains, painting silver stripes across the bed. She’s sprawled out in the center, one leg thrown over Kai’s full pillow with his body printed on it, hugging the damn thing like it’s a teddy bear. Half on her side, half on her back. Hair fanned across the pillow, dark against the white cotton. Her lips are slightly parted, and every exhale is a soft sound that shouldn’t make my cock twitch but absolutely does.
Her skin looks almost shimmery in the pale light. The sleep shirt rides her breasts in the most innocent way, and those miniature shorts… they’ve got my attention locked so hard it’s embarrassing. I rake a hand over my jaw and blow out a breath, steadying myself, because if I keep looking, I’m going to forget how to behave.
Twenty-nine years old and I’m watching a woman sleep in the middle of the night. My father would have something to say about that. Probably something about not wasting time, about seizing what you want, about how Benton men don’t hesitate.
I think about my life before her. The circuit. The competitions. The endless road stretching out in both directions, no beginning and no end, just movement. I was good at being in motion, never staying anywhere long enough to get attached. My father raised me on arena dust and motel rooms, taught me that home was wherever we parked the trailer during the circuits.
But I’m tired.
That’s the truth I haven’t said out loud. I’m exhausted from running, chasing, waking up in a different town throughout the year.
I want what my parents had before everything went to shit, a time when it was good. I remember it in flashes. Sunday mornings with pancakes. My mother laughing at something my father said. The way they looked at each other like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
I’ve always wanted that, even when I pretended I didn’t. And now there’s June.
She shifts on the bed, murmuring something unintelligible, and my whole body tightens. Her scent drifts toward me, lemon zest and honey and wildflowers, threaded through with something warmer now. She’s my Omega. The one I’ve been waiting for without knowing I was waiting and the one who’sgoing to give me everything I’ve been too scared to admit I craved.
The soft click of the bedroom door freezes me.
Someone’s easing it open, slipping through the gap, closing it behind them in the shadows. I don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just watch from my spot near the bed as the figure turns around?—
And locks eyes with me.
Carter.
His whole body jerks. For a second, we just stare at each other across the dark room, both of us caught doing exactly the same creepy thing.
He recovers first. Points at me with an aggressive finger, then throws both hands up, palms open, shoulders rising.
I have no idea if he’s asking why I’m here or telling me to explain myself or just expressing general disbelief. I point back at him, then jab my thumb over his shoulder toward the door.
He squints. Shakes his head. Points at himself, then at the floor, then crosses his arms.
I try again. Point at him. Point at the door. Make a walking motion with two fingers.
He shakes his head.
Christ. I make a shooing motion with both hands.
He copies the motion right back at me, adding an eye roll.
Real helpful. Then he walks farther into the room. Great.
