Page 111 of Unravel Me

Although the last part of it is the hardest.

Yesterday, we got back from the fireworks very late, and Jared went straight to bed. It was obvious that even though his heat recovery was easing, he still wasn't back to full strength.

But I think he'll be back to normal by today.

I open the wooden box sitting on the desk in the bedroom that has belonged to me ever since I spent my childhood summers here while my parents were still alive.

Inside rests the other half of the leaf pendant, and my fingers brush gently over its surface. I don’t wear it around my neck, since it would make it obvious to Jared who I am.

Even so, my hand closes around it for a second before I finally let it go. Jared kept it safe, cherished it, and wore it around his neck for six long years. Like a subtle thread between us, thin but unbroken. It makes me strangely thrilled to know that he never knew it was a gift from his True Mate, yet still treated it as something precious.

At last I leave my room just as I hear Emilio's footsteps in the hallway. He's heading downstairs for dinner, and so am I, hoping Jared will come.

When I reach the dining room, I find Veyron, Uncle Emilio, Gianni, my granddad, and Uncle Renato already seated at the table. Jared still isn't there.

My lips tighten slightly at the sight of Veyron. I know he's a good guy, but I can't fight my alpha instincts or the jealousy that's woven into my Sicilian blood. I struggle against it because I know Jared's life has already been scarred by a man whose jealousy escalated into violence, yet some things are simply stronger than I am.

Jared is mine.

Finally, I hear his footsteps.

They're light despite the fact that, for an omega, Jared is remarkably tall and fit. He's lean and athletic, with the kind of toned, harmonious musculature that comes from regular training.

He's changed into clothes from the small suitcase he brought with him: a simple black shirt and dark navy jeans. They're modest, but he still looks elegant. With his striking face and his proportionate, well-balanced build, he could make even a potato sack look good.

Jared’s eyes immediately find me.

He doesn't seem to notice anyone else as he walks toward the table, almost as if an invisible string is pulling him straight to me. Our gazes remain locked together until he slowly takes his seat while Granddad Silvio greets him with cheerful remarks about needing to bring him a much more diverse wardrobe.

I barely hear any of it because I'm too busy looking at Jared.

Fate, have mercy, I sooo love looking at him, almost obsessively.

His hair is braided into a single braid that falls down his back, its pale gold standing out beautifully against the black turtleneck. One delicate strand has been tucked behind his ear, revealing a tiny earring, and the sight steals the breath from my lungs.

It's a miniature copy of the pendant I gave him, as though he'd asked a jeweler to recreate the exact same shape. My heart beats a little faster because it feels like a silent message… but I don't know what it's trying to say.

Does Jared believe I'm the man from back then, or does it mean he still doesn't believe we should be together… and is still waiting for his True Mate?

Jared takes the seat beside me even though the other empty chair is next to Veyron. I can't deny that it pleases me.

The lovely scent of orchids and lilies of the valley fills my lungs. Everyone who catches the Allure scent of their fated mate knows immediately that this is it! But I knew for sure only from the day I met him in the forest.

Jared used scent blockers before.

Somewhere at the edge of my awareness, I had always known what his scent would be like, almost as if through a seventh sense, recognizing it like an imprint, and now I can finally breathe it in completely.

It would be so simple if I stopped taking blockers and let him smell my Allure. Sure, I use products specifically chosen to complement my scent, but even though artificial fragrances capture the general tone of my pheromones, they’re not the real deal. They might smell very pleasant to him, but it’s still not the same.

It’s another unpleasant part of keeping the truth from him—I use different brands with similar scents, so he won't associate me with the scent I was wearing at the cabin.

Jared leans over his plate, his slender fingers with their pale green opalizing nail polish wrapping around his fork. He spears a slice of fried zucchini and slowly lifts it toward his plump lips, and I simply can't stop staring.

Those pale celadon eyes turn toward me.

They're such an unusual color.

A very light green with an almost silvery undertone. I could look into those eyes forever, and as cliché as it sounds, I feel like I could drown in them too.