Page 40 of Claimed By My Exiled Alphas
“I don’t understand.” Her voice was small, confused. “How are you not angry? How are you okay with this?”
I thought about how to explain something that felt instinctively right but went against every traditional narrative about romantic relationships. “You know how in healthy ecosystems, diversity makes everything stronger? How the forest is more resilient when there are multiple species filling different ecological niches?”
She nodded slowly.
“I think people work the same way. Especially people who’ve been hurt badly enough that trusting anyone feels dangerous.” I gestured toward the creek, the forest, the interconnected web of life surrounding us. “You don’t have to choose just one source of support. You can have multiple relationships that meet different needs, complement each other instead of competing.”
“Is that normal?” The question was barely audible. “To want more than one person? To feel drawn to different people for different reasons?”
“In this world? In Hollow Haven?” I smiled gently. “More normal than you might think. Pack dynamics aren’t uncommon, especially for omegas. Having multiple alphas who care about you, who support you in different ways? That’s not weird here. That’s just how some families form.”
She was processing this information like it was completely new data about how the world worked. Which, given what she’d told me about her past, it probably was.
“But I barely know either of you,” she said. “How can I even think about something like that when I’m still learning to trust you individually?”
“You don’t have to think about it as some big decision about the future.” I kept my tone casual, non-pressuring. “You just have to decide what feels right today. Do you want to keep having coffee with Hollis at the bookstore?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to keep taking cooking lessons with me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still want to go foraging on Thursday, assuming I didn’t completely scare you off with my enthusiasm about edible mushrooms?”
That got me a real smile. “I definitely still want to go foraging.”
“Then that’s what you do. You keep showing up for the things that feel good, and you trust us to handle our own feelings about the situation.”
She was quiet for a long moment, and I watched something shift in her expression. Then she said, very softly, “There’s someone else.”
My stomach dropped, but I kept my face neutral. “Okay.”
“Cassian Black. He’s been...” She trailed off, looking lost. “I don’t even know what he’s been doing. Helping me with legal paperwork for my business license. Offering to connect me with the right people. Being impossibly kind and professional and making me feel like I matter.”
Cassian Black. Of course it was Cassian. The man had probably taken one look at Talia and seen someone who needed exactly the kind of support his resources and connections could provide. That was who Cassian was, using his privilege and power to help people who needed it.
And now there were three of us circling an omega who was terrified of wanting anything for herself.
“And you feel guilty about that too,” I said quietly.
“I feel like I’m being greedy. Like I’m leading all of you on because I can’t make up my mind.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Like I’m the worst kind of omega, wanting attention from multiple alphas when I can’t even handle attention from one.”
“You always loved wild things. Maybe that’s why you’re running from us.”
The words seemed to surprise both of us, hanging in the air between us like a revelation. Talia went very still, and I could practically see her processing what I’d said.
“I’m not running from you,” she said finally.
“Aren’t you? You’ve spent the last three days hiding from everyone who wants to care about you because you’re afraid that wanting us back makes you somehow wrong or greedy or broken.” I softened my voice. “But what if it doesn’t? What if it just makes you honest?”
She was quiet for a long moment, watching the water flow past our feet. When she spoke, her voice was thoughtful, like she was working through something she’d never put into words before.
“When I was little, I used to catch fireflies in mason jars. Dozens of them, filling up these big glass containers with their light. And they were beautiful, magical even, all trapped and glowing where I could see them whenever I wanted.”
I waited, sensing this was going somewhere important.
“But they always died,” she continued. “No matter how many holes I punched in the lid, no matter how much grass I put in the jar, they always died. Because wild things aren’t meant to be contained, even by people who love them.”
