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She blinked up at him, not alarmed but relaxed and open. With the moon's gentle, sanctifying silver glow shining down, they were the only two people in the forest, or maybe even the world. It made him want to tell her things, more things, all the things. But to do so was dangerous. The more she knew, and the more she understood of him, the worse it would be when she went away. For him, but also for her.
If he bared his soul and allowed a closeness to grow, they'd foster an attachment doomed from the start. Yet, the need for it — thatpullColt had spoken of — circled beneath the surface like a hungry shark. The connectionwantedto be forged; he only had to let it happen. She could be his. All he had to do was let go.
Jake cleared the gravel shards from his throat. "You've seen the ocean?"
"Once. I loved it." Her face composed a pretty, wistful expression. "I think I'd like to live by the ocean someday. Swim in it during the day and listen to the waves in my bed at night." She smiled dreamily, pleased at whatever mental picture she'd created.
Jake's own fantasy birthed itself into the world in that instant. The two of them, side by side, frolicking in the pounding surf, the blindingly bright sun shining down as they laughed and played without shame or subterfuge, reveling in the purest of carefree enjoyment. Zorah's hair, frizzed out and wild, lifting in the breeze, and a smile as wide as the ocean itself plastered across her face. He could see it all so clearly; he burned with the wanting of it.
"Sounds really nice," he said. And then, because he was a fucking masochistic moron and couldn't stop himself, he added, "Tell me some more things you'd like to do someday."
Pure astonishment touched her face, and he cursed himself for prodding her for more than maybe she wanted to give. But he couldn't take it back now. Maybe if he had some ideas, some other fantasies of her life he could sketch out, fantasies that did not involve him, maybe that would help. Maybe, years from now, he could think about and imagine the better life she had out there in the world without him. Maybe it would help remind him of all the things she deserved that he couldn't give her.
Biting her lip, Zorah looked away, a new pensiveness taking hold. "No one's ever asked me that before."
"It's okay." He massaged the back of his neck, trying to erase the sudden tension caused by considering the long future without her. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot."
She pressed her lips together. "I'm sure you've seen so much more than I could ever imagine." The knob of her shoulder lifted out of the water. "I feel like anything I say will sound childish and silly to you."
Jake nearly choked in disbelief. As if there was any possibility in any universe that he would find her silly. As if every syllable that danced off her lips didn't entice him to an insane, and frankly probably unhealthy, degree. That this conversation, this furtive, intimate, simple but profound exchange, meant more to him than any other interaction he'd had in years. That he wanted to drown in the way her eyes took him in, like he wasn't a washed-up, broken-down disgrace of an Alpha but a wholly different type of creature altogether, one that — despite all sense and reason — interested her.
He didn't say any of that. Could barely let himself think it, let alone feel the truth of it or say it out loud.
Instead, he said quietly, "So be silly. There's nothing wrong with being young and hopeful. That's exactly what you should be. Er —" He cut himself off, not liking the way that last sentence sounded. Brow furrowed, he tried again. "No, that's not quite right. If you want to be silly, be silly. But don't worry about how it sounds to me, or anyone else, for that matter. Be any way you want to be because it's whatyouwant."
Her eyes slid toward the shore. "I'd like to live by the ocean and work in a tavern, maybe," she said with shy tentativeness. "Or a general store. Something where I get to talk to people who aren't under the age of five. I'd like to see how Omegas live in other places and what the bigger settlements look like. I'd like to see an entire town lit up at night with electricity." She returned her gaze to his, her modest dreams sparkling in her eyes. "I'd like to wear whatever I want and swim whenever I want and live without anyone telling me what I ought to do or all the things I can't do because I'm an Omega."
Jake's throat tightened. She hadn't said it in so many words, but Zorah dreamed of freedom. True freedom, not the kind of self-important nonsense spouted by idiot, wannabe demagogues who'd taken his away in the name of "defending" their own. But the very basic ability to chart a course of one's own life, unimpeded by outside forces that sought to coerce, control, and dictate all the things you "had" to be. His low-level outrage reignited for all the things Zorah had been deprived of simply by being born in the AfterEnd, with a designation that turned her into an object to be possessed rather than a person with wants, needs, and dreams of her own.
He cleared the emotion from his throat. "None of that sounds silly."
The light in her face dimmed. "I try not to dwell on it. It doesn't help to wish for what I can't have." Her pitiful resignation made him want to burn the world down, but before he could utter a single syllable, she said, "But I do needyouto tell me what to do. For the swim lessons?"
Jake nodded, pushing everything that was wrong about the situation out of his mind. She was right. As much as he might want to, he couldn't rearrange the entire world for her, but he could do this.
"You ready to try floating again?"
Then, Zorah forced a sad, brave smile and broke his heart all over again. "Yeah. Let's do it."
CHAPTER 14
Zorah
With a completely natural, nothing-to-see-here glance around the mess hall, Zorah scooted closer to the slight Omega hunched at the very end of the table. Keeping her eyes up and face blank, Zorah pitched her voice low, "I need a favor."
Rue startled on the bench, knocking their shoulders together with the force of her jump. They'd been talking all through dinner, but it had been a whole three minutes since their last exchange. Long enough for Rue to retreat into her own mind, long enough for her to jump when Zorah surprised her out of it. Not an uncommon experience when interacting with Rue, and one Zorah had grown used to during the months of their friendship.
Rue looked up, disoriented. "What?"
Zorah sipped from her water cup and eyed the entirety of the Morris Hill population as they tucked into their dinners. Noise from boisterous Omegas, Alphas, and pups drowned out most conversations in the open, echoey room, thankfully protecting their conversation from prying ears. She'd been putting it off, but she was due for another swim lesson tonight, and she desperately needed a new cover story. The heat wave had broken, and Grace had grown suspicious of Zorah's early-morning returns sporting wet hair; it was only a matter of time before she confronted Zorah outright. Deceiving the maternal Omega who'd been so kind to her didn't feel great, but she also chafed against the way Lars and Grace not-so-subtly monitored her activities. Being an unmated Omega made her everyone's business, which she hated, but also, the secret rebelliousness added an illicit sweetness to her swimming escapades.
But only by a little. Jake accounted for the rest. After four nights spent in his company, she could admit a certainfascinationwith her aloof Alpha instructor. Zorah slipped a hand into her skirt pocket and fingered the toy she'd swiped from the children's growing stash — a small carved fish. The latest addition to the toy collection, a small school of wooden fish, appeared the day prior, carved and inscribed with each of the children's initials, P, J, G, and Z. No bigger than her palm, Zorah rubbed her thumb along the grooved ridges of scales, her fingernail tracing the three lines of the Z.
His behavior perplexed her. She couldn't reconcile the sweetness of the toy deliveries with his tortured, almost painful, restraint during their lessons. He talked to her, instructed her, encouraged her, but never tried to flirt. His touches numbered few, perfunctory, and strictly utilitarian. Overt overtures, uncouth jokes, or sly innuendos never passed his lips. He never showed frustration or impatience with her progress, and he exhibited no hint of violence or danger. His presence, while awkward and difficult to decipher, filled her with an inexplicable sense of calm and safety, completely at odds with what had happened in OT. It confused and niggled at her; she wanted to ask him, to hear his side of those events, but she held back. The lessons were going so well that Zorah couldn't risk endangering their careful working relationship before she'd learned everything he could teach her.
In the background of all of that, her acute, unnatural awareness of him never abated. As soon as his eyes found her in the darkness, that familiar effervescence popped and sizzled along her nerve pathways. The sensation no longer frustrated; she took comfort in it and looked forward to it. From that first prickle on the back of her neck, resentment about her designation, worry about her mate situation, or anxiety about discovery dissipated as if it never existed. And then there was the way her body went completely rogue in his presence.
The night of the splash fight, arousal had blown through her like a summer storm. So entranced, she'd assaulted his chest with her nipples and blurted out silly, swooning compliments about his smile, his handsomeness, his scent. The memory scandalized her and turned her on in equal parts. Since that night, she'd followed his lead and kept careful physical distance between them. But the rare moments when their eyes clashed in long, meaningful, inscrutable looks, her bones went liquid and her skin taut. Slick dripped between her thighs, thankfully washed away in the gentle undulations of the lake. If he made note of it, he never let on.
