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Yeah? Well, I needed to know that I could trust him. For nine years I did, and he threw that all away in one night.
He’s still looking down at the mess on the floor, not letting it go. “Okay. So that vase… what? Slipped out of your hand? Ended up over here?”
“Maybe it did.”
“Or maybe you got some of your frustrations out by smashing the vase like you flipped the table?”
That’s exactly what happened. Not like I’m going to admit that to him.
Not while he’s pretending to be Beta West and not the Weston I’ve known my whole life.
When we first got together, I used to tease him that when he went all cold and logical, it was like he was a whole other male. I loved him no matter what, but I likedmyWest. Bright-eyed, smirking, who had a tendency to curse when making his points, and who felt every moment he didn’t have me within paws’ reach was a moment wasted. The wild lover, the protective shifter, and the male who loved me so Luna damned much that he brought me a token of his affection
When he gives me that knowing look, that haughty expression that he reserved for packmates who stepped out of line, I feel my fury rising up inside of me again.
Omegas don’t snap, but we can get angry. So many wolves seem to think that, as an omega, my purpose is to sit there, look pretty, and let my wolf work magic on theirs. We’re the glue that holds a pack together, and just having an omega wolf near is enough to rein in any shifter teetering on the edge of losing control.
In a way, that’s true. But just because my wolf encourages positive emotions in others, that just means that I’m a pro at recognizing the negative ones first—in me and my packmates.
I’m hurt at his actions which is why I say flippantly, “It was just some flowers.”
They’re not. They never have been. In his way, every flower is another time he’s told me “I love you” without having to utter the words.
He bends lower, reaching for the nearest stem. “You can’t honestly think…” His words trail to a close as he knocks aside a piece of glass, pinching his thumb and forefinger together as he picks something off of the ground.
Rising up from his crouch, his eyes search for my hand. When he sees that my fingers are bare of any jewelry, his expression turns stormy.
I tilt my chin up at him. “What?”
“You took off the ring.”
“Of course I did. I’m not your bride, West.”
“Yes. You are.” His bare feet crunches over the glass as if it isn’t even there in his hurry to bring me the ring. He holds it out to me. “Put it on.”
“No.”
“Helene.” He bites out my name. “Put the fucking ring on.”
“It won’t change anything. We’re not married. We’re shifters… we don’tgetmarried.”
“If it doesn’t mean a Luna damn thing, then put it on.”
I shake my head, so ready to keep on refusing—until West does the one thing that assures that I’ll give in to him.
He pleads.
“Please… it doesn’t even have to be on your left hand. Just… I bought it for you. I want you to have it. Wear it for me, please.”
Before I can take it from him, it slips out of his grip. It lands on the mattress, bouncing beneath my folded legs.
West stumbles away from the bed. Already reaching beneath me from the damn thing, I don’t notice that something is wrong until the aura surrounding his wolf seems to justbreak.
I glance up and over at him, gasping when I realize that it’s not just his wolf that’s breaking.
It’s the male, too, and all because I threw away his ring.
I can fix this. Right? That’s what the Omega does. She fixes broken packmates the same way Ginnie, our healer, helps when it comes to injuries that need a little more guidance to heal better.
