“I really want to make a kill list,” Shiloh grumbles. “Will you be murderous with me, Winter?”
Hearing my name makes me gaze at him. He’s gorgeous, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes that are now narrowed at me as he hovers over his laptop. It’s clear he’s having a hard time sitting still, because he’s standing at the island as he works and eats.
In a way, Shiloh reminds me of a model, all shameless grace and beauty with his hard edges.
Can men be considered beautiful?
“What about me?” Bellamy pouts, and my lips twitch. This is very unlike him.
Is Shiloh trying to make Bell jealous? He’s doing a really good job if he is.
“You may not remember, but you already said you’d help,” Cassidy says. “Our goal is to make Savannah a safe place to live for you both.”
“Alone?” I ask, feeling panicked all of a sudden.
“You’ll be lucky if one of us isn’t following you into the bathroom,” Abbott chuckles under his breath. His hair is wet, and he’s wearing workout clothes.
Did he go upstairs to shower with Cassidy? They both came back down together, and she seemed more relaxed than earlier. Being roofied couldn’t have been fun.
That shit has nasty side effects. I still don’t remember a lot of the time in The Hug Project. I slipped from moment to moment, but I do remember the private rooms. A shudder rolls down my spine at the memory, and I wish there had been drugs administered for that.
“Are you admitting that you’re awful at personal space?” I rasp, my voice cracking as the lighter thoughts in my mind are chased away by the ugliness.
“Terrible,” Abbott says, taking a bite of his pancake. It’s three in the afternoon, yet we’re eating breakfast.
It feels hedonistic to ignore the rules of meals. My aunt hated having meals outside of its “proper” times, and told my mom that she was spoiling me often.
It didn’t feel like being spoiled though, it felt more like love. God, do I miss her.
“Good to know,” Bellamy says, his pinky linking with mine. The simple gesture helps push away the building headache and sadness threatening.
His touch always helps, and it’s why we fought so hard to stay together. Perhaps it backfired a few times, but it’s worth it to come out of this with his pinky wrapped around mine.
“Did you two grow up together?” Ansel asks curiously.
The question doesn’t feel like an invasion. There are so many other truths they could ask for. We need to start somewhere with our scent matches, right?
After the last week of detox where they took care of us, it feels like we need to at least try. If Bell and I need to run later, we will.
I can feel his agreement through the bond, and I take a deep breath to respond to Ansel’s question.
“We only met a year and a half ago,” I admit. “Our parents…”
“They met when they were grocery shopping,” Bellamy says sadly. We both miss them so much. It’s not fucking fair.
“People can go their entire lives and not meet their scent matches,” I add. “My mom was forty-five when she met Alan, my stepfather.”
“My dad was forty-eight,” Bellamy breathes. “They were both omegas, who had decided to make their lives with other packs.”
“If they were omegas…” Ansel looks confused, and I smile slightly.
“They were soul bonded,” I whisper. It’s even less common than scent matches, but it’s what Bellamy and I also are. The connection sometimes needs time to kindle, yet that’s not how it was for our parents or us.
“Wow,” Cassidy murmurs. “That’s a special bond. How did the packs take it?”
“Not well,” I wince. “I was sixteen and with my mom when she walked past my stepdad. Alan had this kind aura around him. Everyone smiled as he walked past, and they lit up when they saw him. It’s no wonder my mom stopped dead in her tracks and turned to watch him.”
“I wasn’t there, but Dad had a haunted look in his eyes he when came home that day,” Bellamy remembers, his face strained with the memory.
