"Is that where you got your scars?" I ask.
He nods. "It was bad. Before it happened, I could talk. I could hear perfectly. But after… I had serious injuries—fractures, broken ribs, concussion, and severed vocal cords."
I wince. I can’t imagine.
"I’m lucky to be alive, though,” he signs. “It could have been worse."
“I’m glad you’re okay. You and Victor,” I say.
He nods, gratitude in his eyes. "Victor’s had a rough time. Especially this last year. It’s not an excuse, really. I just want you to have some perspective on him. He’s been shit—but he took care of me growing up. Even though we’re the same age, he always felt like the older brother in some ways."
“I don’t really want to talk about Victor tonight,” I admit.
He nods."Then can we do this instead?"
From beside the loveseat, he pulls out a bag I hadn’t noticed. He unzips it and takes out a small black speaker. Moments later, soft romantic music drifts across the beach. Dagan stands, offering his hand, and I take it without hesitation.
He pulls me up, then suddenly dips me in his arms, ghosting a kiss across my lips. I giggle—a breathy, unsteady sound even to my own ears. He straightens us, and soon we’re slow dancing to haunting music under the moonlight. His hand rests at the small of my back, radiating warmth through my layers. I rest my cheek against his chest, and he scent-marks the top of my head.
I could live in his pumpkin-and-nutmeg scent forever. We dance like that for an eternity—or maybe an hour. I can’t tell. We laugh and talk, and I’ve never had such a good time. By the time we head back to the house, I’m so exhausted Dagan has to carry me. He lays me gently on the bed, and when he turns to leave, I catch his hand.
“Stay with me?” I ask.
Hiseyes widen, but he pulls back the covers beside me and slips in. Just like with Jack, I don't move all night.
Victor
Mygutisroiling.If Jack poisoned my food, he won’t have to worry about the alpha ghost. I’ll come back to personally haunt his ass.
I woke up this morning tired and annoyed. This whole thing with Clara and the scent sensitivity has me not sleeping. I saw Dagan slip up to her room after their courting date last night and I can’t fucking deal with it. So I’ve been smoking in the house. Bram threatened me with bodily harm, but he and the other guys are out getting stuff for Clara’s breakfast since she doesn’t work today. She’s sleeping in. I’m working on my computer.
What they don’t know won’t kill them. I’ll just open some windows before she wakes up and they get home.
Another sharp pull twists around my middle, like a metal cable connecting my center to something in the house. It yanks again and fuck, it hurts. The scent of bread drifts around me, and I know it’s Finian wanting me to do something. I’m not his Goddamn errand boy, but I also don’t want my guts spilling out.
Fine.
I get up and follow the oddly distinct direction it’s pulling me. I climb the stairs slowly, in case I’m supposed to turn somewhere. Nope. It leads me straight to the staircase for the omega suite.
Nope.
I turn to head back down, but the pull tightens until I swear my insides might become my outsides. I turn back and knock on the omega suite door. Nothing.
“Spooky Girl? You in there?”
A strange sound comes from inside. Low. Rough. Guttural. The kind of noise I’ve only ever heard once, from a dying cat. My alpha surges forward. I don’t even remember opening the door. One second I’m behind it, the next I’m inside.
I drop to my knees beside Clara’s prone form.
“What happened?” My voice is sharp, panicked. Her skin is ashy, lips tinged blue. Her chest rises and falls in shallow, gasping pulls, but she’s not getting a full breath. Something’s clutched in her hand. I pry her fingers open.
An inhaler.
Asthma.
“Spook, do you need this? How—” I fumble with the device, but she shakes her head.
“Not… working…” she wheezes. Her eyes flutter shut too long, and my heart lurches to a stop. Then I’m moving.