His thumb brushes my pulse point, and my throat tightens.
“I didn’t save you,” he says, his expression crumpling. “Saving you would’ve meant getting you the fuck out of this hellhole.”
“But you kept me away from Jett. He—he has a darkness in him,” I murmur softly.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Rowan mutters. “He’s a cruel motherfucker.”
I nod slowly. “And you kept me away from him. At least for a little. Thank you, Rowan.”
His scent grows more intense, and his eyes darken as I say his name.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, his voice strained. He shakes himself, dropping his hold on my hand and walking a few steps to the kitchen to make space between us. “What’s your name?”
“Mirabelle, but my friends call me Mira.”
“Mirabelle,” he says slowly, almost like he’s tasting it.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him he can call me Mira, but considering the way he seems so jumpy and defensive, I don’t want to push my luck. He seems to think that what he’s done for me is far less significant than I do.
“How the hell did you end up here, Mirabelle?” He pulls a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water for me.
My expression falls, and I grip the hem of the hoodie, my shoulders curling in on themselves.
“Hey, hey, whoa, did I say something wrong?” He asks. His free hand hovers over me like he wants to console me, but he isn’t sure what to do.
“N—no,” I say, shaking my head. I need to get this over with. If Rowan is going to be my new handler, he should know everything about me. “I—I broke the rules. And so I was sold.”
“Broke the rules? What rules?”
“The rules at the facility,” I say, glancing away from him, the shame weighing heavily in my gut.
“That why you asked me about the rules here?”
I nod quickly, almost eagerly. “Yes! So please tell me your rules so I don’t break them accidentally. I—I don’t want to be punished again.”
His expression darkens at my words, and he shoves the glass of water into my hands before spinning around again and leaning his fists onto the countertop.
“Rules,” he says slowly, spitting out the word through gritted teeth. “Punishments. Facilities. You smiling so fucking big at clouds, for fucks sake.”
“Did—did I say something wrong?”
“You asking those fucking questions,” he mutters, seemingly adding that to the list of my offenses.
“I—I’m sorry,” I say, my voice trembling.
“And thosefuckingapologies!”
His voice comes out as a twisted snarl, his shoulders heaving as his head drops to his chest. He almost looks like he’s in pain.
Why though? Why did all the things he listed seem to hurt him?
I know he’s basically my new handler. He’s not my friend. Not one of the other omegas from the facility.
But I can’t help but creep up slowly behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my forehead against his back.
It’s the only way I know how to comfort him, considering the fact that my words and apologies only seemed to make things worse.
His hand comes to rest along the back of my hand, squeezing my arm closer to him.
