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“Come on.” Aisling’s hand is on my arm, her touch grounding. We leave the alley, leave him there in the dirt. It’s not our concern anymore. We’ve got our own wounds to lick, our own demons to face in the dark.
And we’ve learned our lesson: that the streets are too dangerous to leave ourselves vulnerable, even when our need feels too great to overcome.
The walk back to the apartment is rushed, blood seeping from multiple places where he sliced into me with his overgrown nails. Aisling guides me along, my body only starting to ache as the adrenaline ebbs away. The door slams shut behind us, the sound a dull echo in the small room we call home. I lean back against it, watching Aisling shuffle around for the first aid kit, her hands shaking.
“Sit,” she orders, more to herself than to me. There’s steel there, but it trembles, like a skyscraper in a quake. She finds the kit and turns, her grey eyes wide and flickering with something I can’t name.
I do as I’m told, lowering onto the edge of the couch. The worn out cushions groan under my weight, a tired sound for a tired moment. My shirt comes off with a hiss of pain; wounds angry and raw stare back at us from my skin. Aisling’s breath hitches, and that sound hurts more than the scratches.
“God, Oberon, you’re…” Her voice trails off as she dabs at a gash with antiseptic. I wince but don’t move away.
“Fine,” I grunt out the lie, because what else is there to say?
This city is getting more dangerous by the second, and I can’t get her out.
I can’t get her out, and it’s gonna kill me.
She works in silence, but it’s a loud kind, filled with unspoken words and heavy breaths. I watch her, this omega who’s become my center in a world spun off its axis. She’s usually so composed, a queen on a chessboard of ruins, the stargazer looking over the gritty skyline and into the distance.
But not now.
Now, she’s just Aisling, scared and human.
“Hey,” I reach for her hand, stilling it. “Look at me.” Her eyes meet mine, and they’re like storm clouds ready to burst. “You did good out there.”
“No, I didn’t,” she whispers, pulling her hand back, focusing on a bruise blooming on my ribcage. “I lost control. I let—“
“Stop.” My tone is firm. “You saved us, Aisling. That’s all that matters.”
“My body demanded sex, and I just…I let it happen, like I had no control at all,” she breathes. “What if—”
“None of that,” I cut her off again. “We’re alive. We’re together.”
She nods, but it’s clear the doubt remains, gnawing at her like a rat to wires. Shame colors her cheeks, and I can see the war within her.
Instinct versus intellect.
Omega versus woman.
“Oberon, I’m supposed to be better than this,” she murmurs, her fingers gentle as they apply a bandage. “I’m not some feral creature driven by base urges…right?”
“None of us are ‘supposed to be’ anything,” I say, catching her chin, forcing her to pause and look at me. “We’re just trying to survive in this screwed-up world. And today, you did exactly what you needed to do.”
Her gaze holds mine, searching, wanting to believe. I give her what certainty I have, let it shine through the cracks in my own armor.
“Survival doesn’t always look pretty, Aisling. But it’s survival all the same.”
“Is that enough?” she asks, the question hanging between us like the dust motes in the air.
“It has to be.” I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her.
For a moment, we’re not alpha and omega, not pawn and knight.
Just two people, clinging to each other amidst the chaos.
And that has to be enough.
Chapter eleven
