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"I dabble," he shrugs. "I've been wanting to photograph this place at sunset for a while now. Interested in helping me out?" He waggles his eyebrows at me and taps the camera case at his side.
"Uh, I've never taken a picture that wasn't on my phone. I'm not sure I can help much..."
"You can be my muse," he answers with a wink.
Before I can respond, he's pulling me through the large wooden gate and into the gardens. My breath catches. It's breathtaking, and we're only at the entrance. Mason gets out his camera, and we walk side-by-side, stopping occasionally when he finds a spot he wants to capture. It's quiet, serene, with only the soft shuttering sound coming from beside me. I look around in a daze, wandering a little ahead of Mason and taking in the view. This part of the garden is my favorite. The sun is peeking through a canopy of trees, bathing the scene in the orange and red rays of the sunset. The waterfall on the left empties into a pond with water so clear I can see dozens of koi fish swimming around. The rocks, wet from the waterfall, are shimmering from the sun's reflection; some have the most vibrant green moss growing on them, it's like they were painted that way to give a more ethereal feel to the space. Trees are blooming with the first signs of spring and pink petals are bursting from the flowers on the ground that surround a round, wooden gazebo off to the right. With a small wood bridge over the pond connecting the patch of land I'm on and paving a path to the gazebo, I can't think of anything that would make this picture more perfect.
I turn around with a huge smile on my face to tell Mason this is his shot, but see the camera is already up to his eye, shuttering away. Only, he's not taking pictures of the garden, it's pointed right at me. My smile drops, and I suddenly feel so awkward and shy, I don't know what to do with myself. I throw my hands up to cover my face so he stops taking pictures of me. I'm not photogenic. It's why my old pack hated when the press were at charity events. They never said it was because of me, but there were always pictures of the three of them on the front page of the paper—usually taken when I went to the bathroom—but never of them with me.
Mason lowers the camera from his eye, gives me another one of his indulgent smiles, like I'm so cute when I'm shy, and clicks a few buttons before looking at the shots he got. "Enchanting," he breathes and breaks out in a big smile. "That's it. I won't be able to top those. Want to go get some dinner?" I let out a sigh of relief, worried he wanted to show me the pictures he took. I hate seeing myself on camera. I never used to, but now as soon as I look at a picture of me, the first thing I do is look for all my flaws. So I grab onto the escape he's offering, and we head out of the gardens.
When he's packing up his camera and putting it in the trunk, I ask, "How'd you find this place? It's incredible." I sidle up to him as he shuts the trunk and lean against the car.
He hesitates for a second, looking uncomfortable, before he lets out a breath and tells me. "Maverick actually. He took me to a Tai Chi class they offer."
"Oh, that sounds like so much fun." Mason nods. The way he's avoiding looking at me now, and how he's suddenly gone quiet, I have another question. I'm not sure if he'll be mad, but I'm dying to know. "So..."
His shoulders stiffen a little, but he tries to hide it by smiling at me, though his smile is tight. "So," he prompts.
"Are you and Maverick a couple?" I know they're something. I saw the passionate kiss they shared the first day I met them during the pub crawl on St. Patty's Day. I would have said they were together then, but I've not seen anything to really suggest it since. And either of them taking me out isn’t an indicator either way. With pack life, monogamy is almost nonexistent. Maybe their relationship is just physical.
"What makes you ask that?" he wonders, avoiding the question.
"You seemed like it when I first met you guys, but you've not seemed as happy lately. I don't know, I guess I was just wondering if it was something you wanted to talk about." I shrug, and he looks at me with somewhat squinted eyes, like he's trying to figure me out, but then his shoulders droop a little, and he sighs.
Twenty-One
Mason
My heart is beating fastin my chest, hammering against my ribcage, and I can feel my palms start to sweat. I can't lie to her. I can't lie to my mate about Maverick. What if she doesn't want us to be together? What if she's disgusted by us and tells us to choose between each other and her? Then again, is there even an us anymore? We've done a bang up job of avoiding each other without our omega telling us to. He probably doesn't even want me now that he's found his fated mate.
Tossed aside, just like before,the devil on my shoulder whispers to me. Sure, Maverick will still come to sleep by me in the middle of the night on occasion. He'll even give me a kiss goodnight. But we don't touch anymore. Not like we used to, where we moved so effortlessly with one another—in perfect sync. Now everything is stilted, calculated. We dance around each other. It's because he's too nice to cut things off with me. He doesn't want me to feel abandoned again, so he still allows the small touches here and there. Like I'm some wounded flower he needs to cater to. But I found my fated mate too, it's not going to be like last time.
Unless she rejects you,it whispers again.What does an omega need with a beta, anyway? You can't knot her like she needs,it hisses at me.
I shove away the self-deprecating train of thought and focus back on my mate. My mate who has been nothing but caring and compassionate since we met. Never having given any credence to warrant this slow spiral I've been on since we met. Not about her, of course. Today was like a fairytale. Being around her is so easy, and my heart felt like it would burst at how beautiful she looked today through my lens. I can't believe how lucky I am to have her. For now at least. Until I answer her question.
Are we a couple?
Fuck if I know anymore. But I told myself if she ever asked, I'd be honest about it and take it from there. "We were," I tell her, though it sounds more like the words are being choked out of me.
She frowns. "Were? But aren't anymore?"
I try to look for any change in her expression or hint at how she feels about that, but I don't get anything. "I'm honestly not sure. Things haven't been the same since..."
"Since?" she prompts me when I try to find a way to saysince youwithout actually saying it.
Instead I say, "Since St. Patty's Day, I guess."
Her brows shoot up. "You guys seemed really happy then. What happened?"
We found our mate. "He's been distant since then.I'vebeen distant," I sigh. "We both have." Except today, when he called me out of the blue and asked me to take Summer out in his place. He said an emergency came up with the new house they've started construction on. But he's so transparent, endearingly so, sometimes. He knows I'm going out of town Monday for a whole week. It's been a trip I've had planned for months now with another photographer friend of mine. We're heading to Iceland to do five days on the Laugavegur Trek, shooting a film for a huge brand deal we're trying to land. The marketing exec chose three portfolios, and we each get a chance to send in a sample video. If it's chosen, we'll be given a contract as the sole photographer and videographer for the brand for a whole year. I can't cancel it, even if the thought did enter my mind after meeting Summer. So if Maverick thinks I don't know he willingly gave me his date night since I'll be away from her for at least the next eight days, he's delusional.
I must have zoned out, because Summer takes my hand in hers and rubs the back of it with her thumb in soothing strokes. My eyes shoot to hers, and I'm a little shocked to see the level of sadness in them. "You must miss him," she frowns.
Fuck, do I ever.Any words I had ready get stuck on the lump in my throat. But there’s something holding us back from each other. I know what it is on my end. It feels like cheating on Summer. On Maverick’s side though? I’m almost too scared to ask. To think about the possibility that it could be happening again. Ever since I saw the way Hudson and Summer acted together outside the coffee shop when Amanda started on her bullshit. Summer was possessive—even without being aware of the mate bond—and Hudson only had eyes for her. He treated her exactly how everyone treats omegas. They’re to be cherished above all else, butespeciallybetas. I’ll never measure up. Half of me understands that it’s supposed to be like that with your mate, the other half is stuck in the past and afraid his boyfriend is exactly like every alpha before him.
I miss him more than I can even express, but I don't want to tell Summer that. Not yet. Not until she knows we're mates and can tell us for certain that she's okay with us being together. I can feel my eyes start to sting, and before I know it, she steps into me and throws her arms around my middle, hugging me in a fierce embrace. Her head is tucked against my chest, and my arms wrap around her on instinct, chasing the comfort she's providing and holding her head against my body.
