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My mouth drops open as I look back up the steps, the weight of that statement sinking in. I feel awful, and a wave of empathy washes over me. “I’m sorry,” I say, though I know it’s an insufficient response.
He gently squeezes my hand as we continue to descend. “It’s alright. There are two institutes like this—this one here and one closer to the delta base. The one near the base has alpha guards.”
I’m well aware of both facilities, and a pang of sympathy for the deltas and their daily struggle tugs at my heart. While deltas share many traits with alphas, they bear a unique burden—a higher likelihood of going berserk, a term society uses to describe their uncontrollable episodes. Their striking, light blue eyes serve as a constant reminder of their inner turmoil, something they confront every time they look in a mirror. Deltas are essentially an offshoot of alphas, lacking their counterparts’ self-discipline and grounding abilities, making them more susceptible to losing their minds.
Packs play a vital role in deltas’ lives. Without an omega to anchor them, their mental stability deteriorates. They find grounding and stability with a strong alpha and a close-knit pack, but with an omega by their side, their minds remain their own, safeguarded against the encroaching darkness.
“What are you hungry for?” Ashton’s voice pulls me from my thoughts as we reach the ground floor, heading toward Max’s lab.
“Honestly, I’m not even sure I can begin to narrow down what I’m hungry for,” I admit, my stomach growling uncomfortably. It pulses with a persistent ache, and a subtle cramp in my groin serves as a reminder that my heat is an ever-present Damocles’ sword hanging over my head.
“I have an idea,” Ashton murmurs softly, his words tinged with a hint of mischief as he opens the lab door to get our things. His gentle whispers always seem to strike the right balance, a perfect counterpoint to Avery’s louder and more boisterous nature.
“Perfect, because right now, I want everything. I’d eat fabric if I had to.” I chuckle and rub my stomach, trying to soothe the gnawing hunger. “Can I ask you something?”
A warm smile plays on Ashton’s lips as he helps me slip into my coat. “You don’t have to ask if you can ask me a question.”
“Alright.” I turn to face him, taking in the sight of him slipping into a black leather jacket. With his dark, curly hair falling gracefully across his forehead and the intriguing tattoos adorning his skin, he exudes a captivating aura. He embodies temptation and carries the irresistible scent of a spiced latte.
Clearing my throat and averting my gaze, I gather my courage to ask the question that’s been swirling in my mind, even though I know it’s driven by my omega instincts. “Grace. Were you... Did you... Were you involved?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head ever so slightly, his eyes locked on mine with a reassuring warmth. “It wasn’t even a question. Ever.” His hand slides smoothly into mine, making my heart beat a wild rhythm as he leads me out of the lab and into the corridor.
A sense of guilt nags at me as I squeeze his fingers. I hadn’t initially considered the idea of joining a pack, at least not yet, but the notion of them not being a part of my life stings more than I’d like to admit. After all, I don’t want to share them, even though I should have known better. Max is one of them—a vital member of their pack—and they wouldn’t have his sister as their emotional core without a good reason.
“Brace yourself,” he warns as he swings open the outside door. A frigid gust of wind nearly steals my breath, making me gasp. “Yeah, the temperature keeps dropping.”
Shivering, we hurriedly approach his car, carefully avoiding patches of slippery black ice. Ashton almost skids to a stop and opens my door to a warm car, and I practically fling myself into the running vehicle.
“When did you start it?” I inquire, my teeth chattering as I slam the door shut. The car’s interior is plush and inviting, with the heat cranked to a blissful level.
“Remote start,” he explains, still shivering just as much as I am. He rubs his hands together, generating warmth, before leaning over me to buckle my seatbelt. It’s a sweet gesture that sends a delightful shiver down my spine. It’s amazing how everything feels like an innuendo when I’m this close to my heat. It isn’t, but my hormones seem to think otherwise, reveling in their own little party.
As Ashton pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road leading back to the city, the sun slowly dips overhead. He leans forward, glancing at the setting sun and the dropping temperature before shaking his head in disbelief. “Normally, I’d trust the weather guy, but I think he’s wrong. We’re going to get slammed at some point here.”
Worry creeps in, and my mind races with what-ifs. What if he’s right, and we find ourselves trapped in a suddensnowstorm? What if I’m not with them in time and get snowed in? What if I am trapped with them?
Anxiety bubbles up inside me, but I force myself to focus on Ashton. My eyes fixate on the intricate black tattoo on his neck, resembling a jellyfish with tendrils that seem to float in water, giving it an otherworldly quality.
“It’s a jellyfish,” he confirms, catching my curious gaze with his own.
“What does it mean?” I reach out and run a finger along one of the tendrils, causing goosebumps to ripple across his skin.
“Did you know jellyfish are immortal?” he asks, his voice filled with intrigue. “Max can nerd out over that fact, by the way. He’ll talk your ear off between that and his passion for mushrooms.”
I can’t help but smile, the warmth spreading across my face. “I kind of want to hear about it.”
“Don’t.” Ashton exaggerates a dramatic shudder. “Anyway, when Grace got hurt, I didn’t know how to reach her. Besides Avery and the guys, she was, and still is, one of my closest friends. I miss that.”
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur softly, feeling a pang of sympathy for the pain and loss he carries with him.
Ashton simply nods in acknowledgment, his eyes reflecting the weight of the past. “They are graceful, you know,” he begins, his voice carrying a sense of admiration. “We could have lost her that night, and though we lost a part of her, she somehow adapted in her own unique way. Life can be cruel, but Grace?” He glances at me again, and I can see a hint of tears shimmering in his eyes. “She adapted like a jellyfish. She didn’t fight the current it swept her into. Even though parts of her shut down, I still see her in her eyes. She’s there, just no longer resisting the current it swept her into. She taught me to let go and find balance and harmony in all of life’s circumstances.”
“So you got a jellyfish tattoo,” I observe, my finger tracing the intricate tendrils of the design. “And the purple flowers?”
He nods, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “They are her favorite. Delicate little purple flowers,” he explains. “Does it bother you?”
Surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, there’s an unexpected beauty in his gesture that I can’t help but admire. While most omegas might have an issue with another woman in a pack’s life, especially when considering becoming a part of it, I find myself strangely drawn to this symbol of his connection to Grace. “She means a lot to you.”
