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At the sight of the buildings peeking between the trees, Jake cleared his throat. "You okay from here?"
Zorah faced him, her lips turned down. "I told you I didn't need an escort," she said, reiterating their brief, but somewhat heated, discussion about whether or not she could walk herself back to the village alone.
The thing was, he'd sat waiting by the lake, guilt over letting her walk through the dark by herself flailing in his chest, and swore he'd remedy his mistake on the return trip. So,hell nowas he letting her walk home on her own.
Jake lifted a palm toward her head. "How're you gonna explain the wet hair?"
She gave the slightest of eye rolls, and the irreverent gesture charmed him. Despite the exasperated attitude it conveyed, he loved how it showed her comfort with him and the absence of the timidity she'd arrived with. "I'm going to say that I woke up early and felt sweaty from the heat, so I popped over for a morning dip."
Jake paused a too-long moment in alarm, all musings about comfort and irreverence disappearing. Her excuse sounded ridiculous, and he wasn't even a concerned surrogate parent. "With your clothes on? You honestly think that'll work?"
Her full brows speared down. "Why wouldn't it?"
He chuffed in protest. "It sounds like obvious bullshit, for one." He rubbed at his chin, thinking it through. "Next time, bring a change of dry clothes. You can change and wear the dry set home; I'll take the wet ones, dry 'em at my place, and bring 'em back for the next lesson. How's that sound?"
The corners of her lips curled upward. "That's a great idea." Her face fell as she fingered a fold in her damp skirt. "I'm sorry about this, but you have to understand Omegas in my Pack aren't allowed to wear pants." She tucked a piece of hair behind the perfect curve of her ear. "The reason I can't swim is that Omegas aren't allowed to do that, either."
"That's stupid."
"Yes." She nodded emphatically, seemingly energized like no one had ever agreed with her before. "It is stupid, and dangerous. But they don't see it that way."
Molars grinding, Jake gave a terse nod at the reminder of this stark, immutable difference between them: Zorah came from this world. She'd never known any other. She'd never played peewee soccer or eaten an ice cream bar or gone to prom. She'd never gone dancing with her friends and drank too much or backpacked around Europe or dyed her hair purple because she felt like it.
A sudden swell of outrage flooded his mouth with bitterness. Why shouldn't Zorah have those things? Why shouldn't she get to make all her own dumb decisions like every other girl he'd grown up with or dated? So what if she lived in this stupid world where Alphas took control of everything, whether or not they had any right to? Why did she have to cover her body in ugly long skirts and be told she couldn't swim? Why did she have to be kept helpless in the face of a harsh, unforgiving world?
She was more than an asset, more than chattel, more than a place for some half-rate Alpha to bury his knot.
Jake strove for calm. He had to do better. Had to be better than any of those pricks who sought to control her. Deep inside, he knew what it was like to be treated like property, to be moved from place to place with no explanation or consideration, to give one's labor with no compensation; she wouldn't get any of that from him.
Swim lessons he could do, the most basic survival skill he could teach her, and if that's all he ever gave her, it would be something. "Don't know what to do about your wet hair though."
Zorah tossed the locks in question with an air of belligerence. "Let me worry about it." She shuffled closer. "Don't worry. I told you, I'm an excellent sneaker."
Zorah's full lips twitched with good humor, and the muscles around Jake's mouth answered. The long-unused fibers creaked, folding into position like sculpting hardened cement. Strange, really, that a thing that once came so easily to him — a smile — would feel so fucking momentous. But, then again, everything with Zorah was momentous.
Watching her from the shadows, he was mesmerized by her beauty and gentle nature. But it went far beyond that now. Without even trying, with sheer determination and moxie, this tiny girl somehow chased away the shadows on his heart.
Swept up, Jake dropped his voice low, the teeniest, tiniest bit flirtatious. "How did you acquire those skills?"
Zorah considered him a guarded glance, as if gauging his reaction while mischief blatantly twinkled in her eyes. "Like I said, there were lots of things I wasn't allowed to do."
Jake's lips stretched from cheek to cheek. There it was again, his long-dormant smile, fighting to be freed. "Maybe something worse than swimming," he said softly. Coyly, like a seasoned flirt, she bit her bottom lip, saying but not saying a great deal. Jake lifted a teasing brow and tipped forward. "Or maybe better."
A decidedly un-girlish knowing lit her eyes, and her voice shifted into a husky register he felt in his balls. "Maybemuchbetter."
This flash of this hidden vixen transformed his urge to grin into another, much less chaste need. Knowing her innocence only went so deep lit him up like a dry Christmas tree. A dangerous, dangerous situation, indeed.
Reeling it back in, Jake squared his shoulders and jerked his chin toward the settlement. "You should get back."
As if on cue, her mouth composed a giant yawn, and she rubbed the heel of her hand against an eye. Jake cursed himself for keeping her out so late. He wanted to scoop her up and tuck her into a soft, cozy bed. Then, crawl in behind and make it even cozier.
"You'll be there tonight?" she asked. "For another lesson?"
Jake rocked back on his heels. "You've been awake all night. When are you going to sleep?"
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "When are you going to sleep?"
"I told you before, I don't." He lifted one shoulder. "I can nap during the day if I need to. You need rest. I won't teach you if you're exhausted."
