My fingers find his hand, and I grab on, lacing my fingers through his desperately. The contact is instant relief, not complete, but enough that I can breathe again. Enough that the world stops spinning.
“Please don’t go,” I whisper.
His expression softens. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he settles onto the edge of the bed beside me, his thumb stroking across my knuckles.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says quietly. “I’m all yours.”
I hold on to him, not ready to let go, not understanding what’s happening to my body but knowing his presence makes it bearable. The burning is still there, simmering under my skin, but it’s not consuming me anymore. Not while he’s touching me.
“Your company makes me feel better,” I admit. “I don’t know why. You make the pain stop. Or at least… dim.”
He grins, and God, he’s gorgeous. All golden warmth and easy charm, with those green eyes that seem to see right through me.
“I’ve heard Alpha presence can help,” he says lightly. “Touch, proximity… it’s supposed to be calming for Omegas. Especially when they’re hurting.”
“Yeah, very funny.” But my laugh comes out shaky because what if he’s right? What if that’s exactly what’s happening?
I press my hip against his on the bed, seeking more contact, and the ache dims further. My body is reacting to him. To his Alpha presence, and Betas don’t react like this. Which means…
No. I can’t think about that right now.
“Let’s not talk about that,” I say quickly. “Please.”
“Of course.” His voice is gentle. No pushing, no prying. Just acceptance.
He sits with me in comfortable silence. I’m trembling from the implications, because if Carter’s touch is soothing my body this way, if his presence is putting out whatever fire is building inside me…
Then my Omega isn’t dormant anymore.
And that thought terrifies me more than the pain. Because I convinced myself years ago that I’d never be enough for an Alpha pack. Accepted that heats and bonds weren’t in my future. Built my entire identity around being a Beta who didn’t need any of that.
What happens if it’s all been a lie?
“You seem very deep in thought,” Carter observes. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”
I breathe heavily, holding on to him like a lifeline. “Have you ever felt like your whole life was based on something that turned out to be wrong? Like you believed something for so long, built everything around it, and then suddenly it might not be true and you don’t know who you are anymore?”
He stays quiet at first. “That’s a heavy question for a Wednesday night.”
“I know.” I laugh shakily. “Let’s not unpack it. I’m just …that’s where I’m at right now.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand explanations. Just sits with me, his presence warm and steady. “You know what I do when I feel like everything’s falling apart?”
“What?”
“I write.”
I twist to look at him. “Like what?”
“Poetry, mostly.” He shrugs, almost appearing self-conscious. “Nothing fancy. Just a few lines here and there when I need to get something out of my head.”
“You’re telling me a rodeo star writes poetry? No way.”
“We all need an outlet.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s a vulnerability there I haven’t seen before. “No one else sees them. It’s just for me.”
“Tell me one.”
“I don’t really remember them off the top of my head?—”
