I glance over. “You think you’d survive a horror movie?”
She nods. “I’d win it.”
I snort. “You can’t ‘win’ a horror movie.”
She looks at me, eyebrow raised. “You can if you’re smarter than the ghost. Or whatever. Half the time the killer is just a guy in a mask with daddy issues.”
I want to laugh, but I want to watch her more. She’s leaning in now, eyes fixed on the screen, but I can tell she’s only pretending to be invested in the plot. She’s waiting for something—maybe a question, maybe an excuse to leave.
I don’t want her to leave.
We watch the movie together, shoulder to shoulder. I don’t say anything about the way our arms touch, or the way her scent grows stronger as the room heats up. I don’t say anything when she jumps, just a little, at the second fake-out. I do notice when, halfway through, she rests her hand on the blanket covering my legs and doesn’t move it.
When the movie ends, she lets the credits roll, eyes glazed. I turn the TV off and set the remote aside.
“Why’d you really come?” I ask, voice low.
Emery shrugs, but it’s not casual. “You seemed lonely. Plus, I heard you crying last night. In your sleep.”
I feel my face go hot, which is embarrassing and infuriating. “Nightmare,” I say. “It’s nothing.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not nothing. Even alphas have nightmares, Silverwood. You’re not special.”
I look away. The silence is heavy now, but she doesn’t fill it. She just waits.
After a minute, I say, “You know, you could’ve been anywhere. You could’ve picked any pack to force your way into on Omega Selection Day. Why’d you stick with this one?”
She laughs, loud and sharp.
I shake my head. “I’m serious. You could do better than us.”
She fixes me with a stare, blue eyes electric. “Maybe I don’t want better. Maybe I want a challenge.”
I breathe in slowly. The room feels smaller. My heart is pounding, but I’m not scared. Not really.
Emery leans back with her hands in her lap. “Besides, you’re not as bad as you act. You just want people to think you are.”
I stare at the ceiling. “You’re not what I expected, either. Omegas are supposed to be soft. Easy to manage.”
She laughs again. “You ever meet an omega who was easy to manage? If so, send her my way. I owe her money.”
I glance over, and she’s smiling, but there’s a tightness to it, a restraint that feels new. “You’re like no one else, Emery Grey.”
She nods. “I could say the same to you, Silverwood.”
We sit in that, just breathing for a while.
Then, quietly, she says, “I never got to ask you something.”
“What?”
“At Selection,” she says, “after I did my little speech and the Council forced your hand—you looked right at me. For a second, you looked like you actually wanted me here. Is that true, or was I hallucinating?”
I swallow. “I wanted you here.”
She’s quiet for a long time, then she nods. “Good. Because I wanted to be here, too. Even if you were all assholes about it.”
I laugh, the sound raw. “We were. Sorry.”
