Page 17 of Dance Omega Dance

I shook my head, words lodged in my throat like shards of glass. How could I explain the depths of my fear, the scars that had never healed? I'd buried my past so deep, and let it calcify into armor around my fractured heart. To speak of it now, to expose those secrets, terrified me.

Blake's gaze flickered to the reporters, understanding dawning in his eyes. He straightened to his full, imposing height, squaring his shoulders.

As he strode over, his every step radiating a warning, their cameras swiveled towards us, capturing the moment as I worked in the field. My heart skipped a beat as I noticed the attention, the lights, and the microphones. Panic clawed at my chest.

I turned my face away, my heart hammering in my ears. What if the pack that had slaughtered my parents saw me?

Blake’s voice cut through my panic, calm but firm. “Move along,” he said to the reporters, his tone deep and authoritative.

The lead reporter, a woman with perfectly styled hair and a shark's smile, stepped forward with a microphone brandished like a sword. "The public has a right to know what's happening here," she challenged, her tone venomous. "Surely you won't deny us access to the brave survivors of this tragedy?"

Blake's growl was audible even over the dance of pain and chaos. "What these people need is medical attention and privacy, not to be gawked at like exhibits in a zoo. Leave. Before I have you removed."

The crew hesitated for a moment, but Blake’s commanding presence was enough to make them back off.

The reporter's eyes narrowed. Then, with a huff of offended dignity, she spun on her heel, motioning for her crew to retreat. They slunk back to their van, disgruntled but unwilling to challenge any further.

I sagged with relief as the van peeled away, the cloying scent of hairspray and ambition fading in its wake. My knees buckled, exhaustion and emotion taking their toll, but before I could crumple, muscular arms caught me, held me steady.

"Easy," Blake murmured, his breath warm against my temple. "I've got you."

He guided me to a chair, all that remained of a coffee shop. I sat down, hunched forward, elbows braced on knees, struggling to slow my ragged breathing. Blake crouched before me, his presence solid and grounding.

"Do you want to tell me what that was about?" he asked softly, no hint of demand or judgment in his voice.

I shook my head, a jerky, skittish motion. The words crowded my throat, longing for release, but old habits held them fast.

"I can't," I whispered, my voice cracking on the final syllable. "Please... don't ask me to."

Blake's eyes searched mine, stormy blue and fathomless. For a breathless moment, I thought he might push, might wield his alpha authority like a battering ram against my fracturing defenses. But then he nodded.

"Okay," he whispered, as if soothing a wounded animal. "You don't have to tell me. But Summer... you're safe here. With us. I swear it."

My gaze sought out Anders and Zach, still working among the rubble and ruin. Anders cradled an infant with infinite tenderness as he triaged her injuries; Zach lifted a fallen beam with a roar of effort, freeing the battered survivor beneath.

"I want to believe you," I admitted, my voice a thready whisper. "But it's... It’s hard for me. To trust. To not run."

Blake's hand twitched forward, as if longing to offer comfort, but he held himself back. Respecting my space, my boundaries, even as his every instinct screamed to bundle me close, to shield me with his own body and scent.

"You don't have to decide right now," he assured me. "There's no timeline on trust. But we're here Summer. We're not going anywhere. Lean on us. Let us help. That's all I ask."

I frowned, thoughts niggling at my mind. “But... why?”

He looked into my eyes and smiled. “Because you’re mine, Summer Rayne, since the moment I found you under that rubble, since the moment I heard your cry for help.” He took my hand. “And since the moment your tantalizing scent of cotton candy wrapped around me, I knew. You’re mine.”

“Yours?” I shuddered, both the fear and excitement all wrapped up in one.

“Ours,” Anders said as he walked over with Zach.

“Well, shit.”

Swearing at my alphas wasn’t what I thought I’d say when I met my scent-matched pack. But it was the only word that would escape my lips at that moment. Blake’s expression though... if I could laugh without causing myself pain, I’d be howling right now. Zach beat me to it. In fact, he was still chuckling away to himself, all while pulling out dead bodies from under the rubble. It made him look insane. But I knew the truth when their scents coiled with my own, dancing in the darkness. I knew then we were meant to be. The problem was my past. The turmoil that coated my memories, and the agonizing truth that I could never be free of it. And now, my face had been broadcast all over the media, I was sure that the truth would follow me home soon enough.

THE DARKNESS OF THEday wrapped itself around me. I still couldn't see due to all the dust and debris. The broken streets were still littered with bodies, some breathing, some not.

Blake, Anders, and Zach continued helping with the relief effort after their declaration to me. On occasion, Blake asked me to bandage or dress a wound. But right now, I was sat nursing my leg and taking a much needed break to catch my breath.

Looking out into the ashen street, a familiar figure came into view. Her wild hair, her deep blue eyes, and that smile that sunk relief into the pits of my stomach. Maddie! She ran over, almost tripping over a fallen lamp post.

---