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Pushing to my feet, I cross to the door and lean against it, attempting to hear what they are saying, but it is useless. They must have moved away from the door. If I were brave, I’d walk out and see what punishments Saint could think up. Instead, I turn back to the bed and decide to make it.
A soft knock sounds, but I ignore it, and they leave me alone.
Spending way too much time on making the bed, I finally cross to the windows. The sky is darkening, and night will fall soon. My stomach grumbles, protesting the fact I hadn’t fed it anything after mentally promising it a feast. But I’ve gone hungry for longer, and it will be fine.
The door cracks open after another soft knock ten minutes later, drawing my attention to Saint as he steps into the room with a tray of food. Grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. A loud growl from my empty stomach sounds between us, and he crosses to the bed, placing the tray on the surface.
“Food,” he grunts, sounding like a caveman and gesturing at the tray with enough sandwiches to feed an army.
I press my lips together and look out the window, attempting not to smile at his effort at taking care of me. Felix must have told him I like grilled cheese sandwiches. The smell of the buttery toasted bread and creamy soup wins out, and I give in. Crossing the room, I perch next to the tray as he watches me like he’s ready to feed me if I don’t do it myself.
I lick my lips, lifting half of one of the gooey grilled cheese sandwiches and dipping it into the soup before taking a bite. Saint’s gaze remains fixed on my face. I suppress the moan of appreciation as the food satisfies my hunger, although a small sound might have slipped out, judging by his expression.
But I don’t care. I devour it while he watches, his eyes locked onto my every movement. The flavors explode on my tongue, comforting and indulgent, as if each bite is a small piece of heaven. I let myself savor the moment, relishing in the taste and the intensity of his gaze, a silent exchange of emotions passing between us.
Yep, the omega in me has utterly surrendered to this alpha. I’m a goner, caught in his grip, like a fish on a line. Reeling me in hook, line, and sinker.
“Thank you,” I say, finally acknowledging his constant attention.
“Do you want more? Are you satisfied?”
I bite my lip and look up at him through my lashes, unable to stop myself from flirting a little. “Those are two different questions, Saint.”
He clears his throat, and I watch as his hands fumble around, unsure of their purpose, eventually finding solace in his pockets. Suppressing the smile that tries to surface, it’s amusing to witness his unease. This powerful man, usually so composed, rendered nervous by my presence, and I find it utterly endearing.
“I wasn’t talking about–Are you still hungry? I can make more.” He shrugs like it isn’t a big deal.
“I’m full.”
“You can come out and sit with us.”
I glance at the door, mysteriously void of either of the other alphas. “Wouldn’t that be admitting I belong here?”
“Youdobelong here,” he replies.
I can’t handle that kind of commitment right now, so I rise from the edge of the bed and return to the windows, my heart heavy. It’s not about hurting him intentionally, but about being truthful. Allowing myself to love, to truly fall for someone, it’s an overwhelming prospect. The fear grips me. Desiring something is a world apart from actually attaining it, and that distinction is never lost on me.
Absolutely, spending time with them shouldn’t be a big deal, yet his message was crystal clear: remain here until I embrace the fact that being with them is my place. And maybe, on some level, I realize that truth, but I’m not prepared to fully acknowledge it. Despite the undeniable submission of my omega side to him, she’s a needy bitch that will do anything for his validation.
As I gaze out of the window, I can feel his presence behind me. The tension in the room is palpable. He clears his throat, and I turn to face him, his eyes searching mine. “You’re holding back,” he whispers, his voice a mix of concern and understanding.
I swallow, my emotions caught in my throat. “It’s not about you,” I murmur, my fingers nervously playing with the sleeve of my hoodie. “It’s about me. I’m not used to...this.”
He takes a step closer, his expression unwavering. “I get it. Someone has hurt you before.”
I nod, unable to meet his gaze. Hurt is a mild word for what happened to me, but he knows that already. “And I don’t want to hurt you.”
His fingers gently lift my chin, making me look into his eyes. “You won’t hurt me by being honest,” he assures me. “We’re in this together, whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”
I let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his words. “I’m not used to letting anyone in, it’s just been me and Sin,” I admit, vulnerability creeping into my tone.
He smiles softly, his thumb tracing my cheek. “I’m not asking you to let us in all at once. Just take it step by step, at your own pace. But don’t leave. Don’t throw this chance away.”
I manage a small smile in return, feeling a glimmer of hope. “You’re patient.”
He chuckles, the sound soothing. “Well, you’re worth the wait.”
It’s a simple sentence, yet it carries so much weight. I let his words sink in, the fear slowly giving way to a warmth I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, I can allow myself to open up, to take that chance on love again.
