We come together, Violet and me. Just like I wanted. Just like I promised.
And fuck, it’s never been like this—not with any of my beta playthings and certainly not with crazy-ass Bokerah.
Violet is perfect. She was made for this. Made for us.
And I am never letting her go.
Somehow we’ve made it to the bedroom upstairs, where we’re now lying in bed and I’m telling her the story for each of my tattoos. The cabin’s second floor is basically a glass box. There are no walls, only windows. Even the roof has been fitted with a massive skylight so we can watch the night sky and northern lights from bed. I can’t wait to bring Violet here in the fall, to show her that marvelous celestial spectacle for the first time.
Marvelous. Spectacle.Fuck, I’m going soft.
But Violet just does that to me.
For the first time ever, I understand why packs need omegas. Yes, for children, but also for the alphas. She balances our volatile male energies. She makes us whole.
She’s been battered and broken, just like we have.
And now that I’ve claimed her as my own, one thing has become crystal clear.
My sweet little omega is not a virgin, not like her profile claimed. Call it a hunch, a gut feeling, or even a conclusion born from plenty of experience on the matter. Violet knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it from me, too much for it to simply be attributed to biological instinct.
I’m not her first, like I thought I’d be. Good omegas save themselves for their packs, but Violet hasn’t saved herself for me, for us.
Why? And why hasn’t she told us? And now that I know, what am I going to do about it?
VIOLET
The sun streams in through the skylight, basking me and Archer in warm, natural light. Our first time together was fast and passionate to dispel the tension that has been building between us these past weeks. We’ll take each other again soon, and we’ll move slowly, leisurely, as we delight at discovering each other.
For now, we’re resting, talking softly, rebuilding our strength. If I were in heat, we wouldn’t need to rest at all. But just as biology enables me at times, it limits us both now. Without my heat, Archer can’t rut, which means he can’t keep going and going into infinity. His body needs the break, and it seems he needs this private time spent talking softly, all barriers removed between us.
Except the one I’ve been working hardest to keep standing tall. Am I finally ready to knock it down? I told myself I would, but now… How can I? How can I hurt this beautiful man? How can I encourage him to let me go when I desire nothing more than to hang on tight?
He has no idea. Maybe I could get away with keeping my secret a little while longer. Maybe I can go back to my original plan. Maybe I can stay for a year or two, enjoy what my life should have been until it’s forcibly taken away.
Seeing the way Archer looks at me now, he’s already falling fast. No matter what, I’m going to break his heart. It’s no longer a question of whether, but rather how much.
Archer points to the tattooed plane on his bicep as we continue our journey over his skin. “I got this one when we bought Mabel.”
I hum and run my fingers over a howling wolf on his abdomen. “What about this one?”
“It was my first. Back when I thought I was a lone wolf, back before I had the others. I was thirteen.”
I suck air in through my teeth. “Someone gave you a tattoo at thirteen?”
“Nobody cared about upholding the laws when it came to a rough-and-tumble troublemaker like me. I had the cash, stole it from one of my dads’ wallets. Found some guy who would do it off the books. Started a lifelong obsession.” Archer chuffs, and I can tell this is a bittersweet memory for him, or rather a mix of many highlights of his early life, both good and bad.
“What made you change your mind? About being a lone wolf?” I ask, keeping my eyes trained on the inked wolf. It’s easier than looking into his eyes, knowing that I’ll have to hurt him, that I’ll have to lose him. And soon.
“Miles,” he answers with a slight quaver in his voice. “We’d been friends forever, but I thought it was just one of those relationships that last as long as they’re convenient. Like that we’d have each other’s backs through school, and then go our separate ways. But then his dad got killed in a drug bust.” Archer shrugs as if it’s no big deal, though clearly it’s one of the most important facts of his life.
“Miles needed me, and that’s when I realized that I needed to be needed. That terrible tragedy gave me my purpose. I’d always been a leader, and now I had someone to lead. Haven’t looked back since.”
“And Ben and Noah?” I wonder aloud. It’s a question I’ve been contemplating ever since my arrival. How did this new pack come to be? How do all the alphas fit together as one?
“They came along later. When the business was expanding and we needed more feet on the ground. With time, I began to trust them more than the others I had making runs for us. So when Miles suggested we form our own pack and ask the two of them to join, I made it happen.”
“When you say your business, you mean—?”