“I don’t want you to hate me,” Shiloh admitted, voice low and pathetic.
“You’ve said that before.”
“Because it’s true.” If the alpha ended up hating him, Shiloh would lose everything.
“I thought you didn’t believe in love,” Sarang said, continuing when that earned him a frown. “Love and hate go hand in hand. If I don’t hate you, then I’ll have to love you.”
“Hatred is a drive,” Shiloh disagreed. “Love is a chemical reaction.”
“They’re both chemical reactions,” he corrected. “That doesn’t make them any less real. Just because you haven’t seen it for yourself, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
There were many emotions that Shiloh didn’t have firsthand experience with, but the alpha was right. Love was the one thing he’d never been able to wrap his head around. As a concept, it seemed too extreme, and yet also too fleeting.
No one needed love to be loyal.
To be attracted.
To be angry.
But if that was something the alpha so strongly believed in…
“Don’t hate me.” Shiloh hung his head.
“Are you asking to be loved then, omega?”
He shut his eyes.
“Why are you embarrassed?” Sarang asked.
“I’m humiliated.”
“So you can feel humility after all.” He hummed to himself. “That’s interesting. But there’s nothing shameful about wanting to be loved. Everybody needs somebody.”
“You think I’m broken.” Shiloh was. He was damaged and raw. Had been two steps away from being considered feral until that day in the salt fields had changed everything for him. When he’d returned home, he’d refused his mother’s missions outright. Had put his foot down.
She’d been sick enough by then that she lacked the strength to stand against both him and Sloane. With the help of his sister, he’d successfully managed to free himself as theirmother’s Hellhound, a position usually reserved for the worst of the worst.
The type of person who got off on causing pain and torment and wrecking lives.
Sarang wasn’t as squeaky clean as he’d led Shiloh to believe, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a good person at his core.
“How long have you liked me, omega?” Sarang surprised him by seemingly changing the subject.
“Always.”
“Be more specific.”
Shiloh pursed his lips. “I may have just been another poor soul to you, an injured omega in heat, all alone. You probably would have treated anyone else in my situation the exact same, I know that. But when you looked at me, it was like you were seeing someone who deserved the kindness you offered.”
No one had ever been kind to him until that moment. He was given special liberties as the prince, yes, but his mother was strict, and she’d wanted her children raised tough. It was more important to her that he and Sloane know how to defend themselves, than it was for them to know the spirit of selflessness.
“If you’d been anyone else, even if you chose not to take advantage of my situation,” Shiloh said, “you would have shown pity. But you never looked at me like I was weak. You looked at me like I was worthy.”
Shiloh had never been worthy before.
To his mother, he was a weapon, one she’d painstakingly crafted, and one she still didn’t feel like she could entrust her legacy to.
To his sister, he was a chain. The one thing holding her back, keeping her trapped within the Eumia when she wanted toleave it all behind. She could have. If she’d left him, her escape would have been easier.
