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So what the fuck is this?
After a long few moments standing outside her doors, I almost leave. Almost convince myself it would be better to turn my ass around and walk back down those stairs and away from the Omega. I almost convince myself that pushing further will only make shit messier.
The vial of blood weighs heavy in my pocket, reminding me that there’s more at play than my draw to the female in that room.
Still… the swirling pool in my chest refuses to calm down. It’s only become more frantic the closer I get to Idril. My fangs are throbbing, and my heart’s started racing again.
I clench my fists, warring with instincts that want me to open the doors and my logical mind that’s screaming that it’s smarter to play the long game.
Dax must feel my hesitation through the Bond; his voice is suddenly in my ear, startling me.
“Talk to me, Caelan. You’ve stopped. Why have you stopped?”
“Finished the east wing,” I keep my voice low, despite knowing no one else is here except Idril. “Checked everywhere except…”
I don’t need to say it. He already knows.
“That’s enough. We don’t need eyes on her. Just wrap up and get out. Gav will understand.”
I know he’s right, and I also know he’d pull me out if he had the rank to make that call, but he doesn’t.
“Where are you?”
I don’t answer.
“Caelan. Where. Are. You.”
“I’m just going to check,” I murmur.
My eyes can’t seem to leave her door. She’s in there. Just on the other side of those doors.
Fuck, I can almost feel her. Picturing her just a few feet away sends a shiver down my spine that pools deep in my lower stomach.
“I just want to know what her living situation is like.” I don’t even know who I’m talking to anymore. Dax? Myself?
“Who gives a fuck,” Dax snaps, and I hear his fist crack against the wood of his desk. “You heard Gav. At best, she’s an ignorant, spoiled Omega who enjoys all the luxury daddy’s money provides and doesn’t ask questions. At worse—at fucking worst—she’s in league with him. You’re compromised. Get. Out.”
For a millisecond, I almost give in to his demand to leave. Almost.
Until I hear scratching coming from under the door, soft but frantic.
Curious, I hunch down and angle my head to get closer, but before I finish moving, I realize what it is.
The damn cat. It’s scratching at the inside of the door like it wants to be let out.
I thought only dogs did that?
The other night, Idril was worried her father might discover the cat’s existence. If it keeps scratching, it’s going to blow her cover to hell.
For that matter, why isn’t she stopping it?
Unless…
Unless she isn’t able to stop it.
The thought makes my stomach knot up with anxiety.
The scratching grows louder. Faster. More insistent. Like the feline knows I’m out here.
