ADAM
What the hell just happened?
I sat frozen on the bed, the air around me empty in a way it hadn’t been just moments before. The door clicked shut behind Fletcher, soft and almost apologetic, but it echoed like a gunshot in my chest. My lips still tingled from the kiss. His taste lingered on my tongue.
And he was gone.
I stared at the space where he’d been, where he’d looked at me like he wanted to give in and give me everything—and then he’d shoved it all away.
God, my hearthurt. Literally throbbed, heavy and low with heartbreak. I could still smell him, that nervously-sweet scent of heat and sorrow tangled in the bedsheets. I couldn’t breathe past it.
He said no.
And I understood. Idid.
But that didn’t stop the ache.
I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my hands. Inside, my wolf was pacing, claws raking just under my skin, his low growls vibrating through every nerve ending. He didn’tunderstand why we weren’t following Fletcher. Why we weren’t holding him. Why we weren’t protecting our mate.
Mate.
I wanted nothing more than to pull Fletcher in close and tell him it was okay, that I felt it too, that everything would work out somehow. That we’d figure it out together.
But would we?
Fletcher was right. I hated that he was, but he was.
My family would never accept this. They would never accepthim, and we both knew it. My father didn’t give a damn about emotions. He cared about image, wealth, and pure bloodlines. The Sinclair name was meant to inspire reverence, and that didn’t include falling in love with a gentle-natured but down-on-his-luck lynx Omega who'd been through more hell than I could ever imagine.
They’d call him damaged goods. Useless. Incompatible and incapable of carrying pure-blooded heirs to the Sinclair family name, being a feline.
I didn’t care about those things, but that kind of rejection? That wasn’t only mine to carry. It would land on Fletcher like a fresh set of wounds, and he already had too many of those.
The next couple of days were torture.
We still moved through our normal routine—meals spent together, short walks when he could manage, sharing a quiet presence in the same house—buteverythinghad changed.
Fletcher had gone quiet. He’d withdrawn from me. His smiles were brittle things, like autumn leaves crumbling at the edges, and he never held my gaze for more than a second. It was like watching a door close in slow motion, and no matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t reach it in time.
It hadn’t been just me feeling things, right? Because I wanted it. I wantedhim, and I was pretty damn sure he felt the same. Otherwise, why would he seem so fragile? Why would he shyaway from me like this? The kiss we’d shared had come from somewhere deep, somewhere real.
I refused to believe this was over.
After dinner on the third night, I couldn’t take it anymore.
Fletcher was clearing his plate and moving towards the sink when I said softly, “Fletch? Can we talk?”
He froze, his shoulders tight. For a second, I thought maybe he’d say yes. His breath hitched, just barely, and I could see his fingers tighten around the edge of the plate.
But he shook his head. “Please, Adam,” he whispered. “I just… I need to…process things, okay? I need space.”
I wanted to protest. To say something clever or gentle or charming. But I couldn’t. Because I saw the fear in his eyes, and I wasn’t about to be another Alpha who ignored an Omega’sno.
“Okay,” I said quietly, stepping back. “Take whatever time you need.”
He nodded once, set the dishes on the counter, and left the kitchen, but his scent lingered.
Sweet. Heavy. Saturated with heat and longing and misery. My knees almost buckled. My body reacted, helplessly. My inner-wolf howled and whimpered. I pressed my palm to the counter just to ground myself, my jaw clenched hard enough to hurt.
