Page 85

The chorus of groans and curses that follow behind me do little to ease my irritation. No matter what I do, no matter what lies I tell myself, nothing changes how I’ve felt since that stupid interrogation.

Unmoored. Adrift. Like a boat with no fucking anchor in the middle of a stormy sea. The one time—the only time— I’ve felt slightly tethered to reality was when I brought blankets to the Omega. Only then did everything inside of me settle. It took less than a second to realize that caring for Idril is the only way to fill these cracks inside of me.

But knowing how to get rid of this itching, restless feeling doesn’t help when I can’t return to those cells. Partly because Daxen “decided” to give her time to recover. But, in the interest of keeping my vow to stop lying to myself, the real reason is that Soren… well…

He’s fucking terrifying, alright?

Coward.

“Original,” I mutter, but part of me is just happy my Alpha is talking to me at all after days of the silent treatment.

At the front entrance, I press my thumb to the biometric lock and shove the door open.

And almost trip over the hunched form of a female kneeling in the foyer.

I blink. Blink again.

Why the hell is Idril on the floor, brush in hand, scrubbing the Fatesdamned tile? She didn’t even seem to notice that I almost stepped on her!

And because my brain decides now is a great time to misfire, I just stand here, frozen in place like the world's sweatiest statue.

After a solid half minute, Idril finally senses my presence. She stills, and her shoulders hitch up to her ears like she’s instinctively bracing for a blow.

My stomach turns and my gut clenches, and I realize, with startling clarity, that I can’t fucking stand the sight of her fear. I don’t know when it happened, but all my prior confusion is gone. At this moment, I would do anything to erase the dread I can feel coming off of her.

She finally lifts her head and those wide blue eyes that make her look like a fairytale princess land on me.

Shockingly, her shoulders fall, and she relaxes once she registers who’s looming over her. The grin that blooms on my face is probably unhinged.

So much for not scaring her, my Alpha laments, and I inwardly cringe, forcing my expression into something more neutral.

I can’t rip my eyes away from her. She looks healthier, and seeing that has my whole body relaxing for the first time in days.

The circles under her eyes are nearly gone. Her complexion is no longer grey and sickly. In fact, it almost looks like it’s… glowing. Her hair’s pulled back in a loose, intricate braid, dozens of smaller braids peeking through. Soft tendrils frame her face, and her full, pink lips are no longer chapped and red like the last time I saw her.

She’s beautiful.

And it’s incredibly freeing, no longer denying how I feel.

The silence must be getting awkward because Idril tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and starts to gather her supplies, murmuring, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how close to the door I was.”

She shifts everything to the side, leaving me room to walk around. Except… I don’t. I can’t. I know I should walk away—if only so I can find Gav and throw down because why the actual fuck are we still making her do this stupid shit?—but I just… can’t.

Like I’m having some kind of out-of-body experience, I watch as my mouth parts and my lips move, forming words that escape without my permission.

“You need socks.”

What. the. fuck.

That’s what I’m leading with? You need SOCKS? What the hell do I think I am, a fucking sock vigilante?

Just… Someone please fucking stake me.

And because this interaction isn’t already shocking enough, Idril actually laughs. It’s soft and gentle and sounds like a song, and I swear to the Fates something is solidifying inside of me and I don’t think I’m strong enough to fight it anymore.

Apparently my brain-to-mouth filter is broken because instead of letting the subject die, I… keep talking.

“I, I thought—I mean—I swear I got you some shoes.”