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Griffin stays by her side longer than any of us, but she doesn’t even seem to notice. It’s horrific, and I pray that Orson gets to break through to her.
Even if a tiny part of me hopes that none of us can break through.
That we’re all on the same page with her—an equal page.
That she loves us all equally. A whine tries to break free, my lion howling in pain within us, but I bite my tongue hard enough to draw blood so that I can keep my secrets.
It’s bad enough that I’m acting this pathetic.
I refuse to let anyone notice.
Mal glances my way, but I don’t acknowledge his eyes. He might have an intense look on his face, but he can’t read minds.
And it’s a good thing, too, because my thoughts aren’t pretty. All I can think about is that maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t love me at all.
I can’t say I don’t deserve it.
Orson takes a deep breath before walking forward and crouching in front of Nora.
“Nora,” he says. She reacts, a slow blink that we all take note of. Relief, happiness, and even excitement fill the air, and those positive feelings drown out the scent of my jealousy.
“Little cub,” Orson cajoles, humming under his breath in a way that makes his chest rumble as he wraps her up in his arms. I flinch when I see her relax into his embrace. “Come back to me, Nora. Please.”
That could’ve been me if I hadn’t of fucked up. It hurts, watching the two of them sit together, seeing how he barely had to say her name, and she immediately relaxed.
She trusts him.
Fuck, she loves him.
And me? I’m nothing. I’m worse than nothing—I’m useless.
All I do is fuck up.
Maybe… maybe if I didn’t get so mad at her in the living room earlier, she’d have chosen me over him.
But she didn’t.
I take a step back as she bursts into sobs, and it fucking kills me hearing her break down.
I’m the reason she tried to kill herself today.
And I really regret that.
3
NORA
“But survival, little cub?” Orson asks, stopping in front of me at Atticus’s right. My giant teddy bear, the one who has made it his mission over the last few days to make me feel as loved and cared for as he could, gives me a smile. His hooded hazel eyes glint in the winter sun. “Survival is Hard.”
My wolf howls, and a slow smile appears across my face. She wants to run with our pack. She wants to run with our mates.
We immediately shift back into our wolf form, and when none of the others move, I howl again
“Nora,” a soft voice calls, and a spark within me recognises him. He doesn’t speak again, and the flitting feeling has already disappeared.
The Alpha takes the hint first, my gorgeous Atticus standing before me as a yellowy-gold lion with a beautiful mane that shows him as the King that he is. It’s a light blonde around his face, turning from light gold to brown, with a thick black ring around the edges.
He’s magnificent, and my wolf truly thinks so.
