He looked like he wanted to say something. His hands gripped the edge of the counter again, his knuckles white. The muscles in his forearms tensed.
"I..." He stopped. Took a breath that made his broad chest rise and fall. "If you do end up going to the gala, I hope you have a good time."
I was positive Kael had wanted to say more, but he didn't.
But I nodded anyway. "Thanks."
I gathered my things and headed for the door, my heart hammering in my chest.
"Amara?" he called just as I reached it.
I turned back.
He was watching me with those warm eyes, his tall frame backlit by the golden light of the bakery. His expression was soft and open and achingly vulnerable.
He was so beautiful it hurt.
"You're not nothing," his voice had dropped to a whisper. "You're everything."
The words hit me like a physical thing, my knees going weak and my hand trembling.
You're everything.
I managed a smile, my throat tight. "Goodnight, Kael."
"Goodnight."
I stepped out into the cool evening air, the cinnamon nest bun clutched in one hand, my coffee in the other. The sidewalk glistened faintly where patches of ice were beginning to melt, catching the light from the bakery window. And for the first time in years, I let myself hope.
Maybe I wasn't some worthless omega librarian who would never find a connection with someone.
Maybe, just maybe, someone actually saw me.
And maybe that someone was a six-foot-two baker with short brown hair, hazel-green eyes flecked with gold, and the kindest smile I'd ever seen.
4
KAEL
My sheets had twisted around my legs as I rolled around in my lonely, gigantic bed for the hundredth time. My eyes darted over to the alarm clock and the glowing red lights let me know that it was after 2 a.m.
Rolling over onto my back I stared at the window, and from where I was laying I could see moonlight slicing through the darkness, painting everything in its silver light. Outside, I could hear cars passing by as tires hit puddles on the wet pavement. The hum of the HVAC unit kicking on to bring in some heat echoed softly through my small house. I scrubbed my hands over my face, desperately wanting to get some rest but knew that it was out of reach.
Because my dragon was restless, pacing beneath my skin like a caged animal.
Mine,it kept whispering. She's ours. Claim her.
Not yet,I told it for the hundredth time tonight.
I rolled over, punching my pillow like that would somehow make a difference. It didn't. All I could think about was Amara and the way she'd looked tonight when she walked into thebakery. Those bright brown eyes of hers had been shadowed with something.
Someone had bothered her, and had her upset.
And every instinct I had screamed at me to find out who and make them regret it.
I'd wanted to pull her into my arms and hold her until whatever was hurting her went away.
But I couldn't just up and do that. I didn't want to terrify her and there was still the whole mess of my actual identity. She had no clue that the baker she visited every day was actually the youngest son of one of the most powerful families in Fernwood.
