Page 67 of Shattered Omega

More than me.

They all deserved more than me, but especially Shatter. All I brought to the table was money and connections. No skills. No sense, half the time—I knew that. My father had been quick to let me know. I’d trusted him, and Umbra and Dusk had paid the price.

The more often I reminded myself of that, the less I felt like I deserved our omega. I would never let her go because I was selfish, and she needed all the protection she could get, but I wanted to prove myself.

“Our wife deserves to have what she wants,” Umbra said. “And she wants you.”

I thought back to how she reacted when Dusk had suggested a divorce. It had sent a shock of discomfort through me to think about splitting from her in any capacity, and she hadn’t wanted to split from us either.

Shatter Kingsman.

She had my last name, and that’s how she wanted it to stay…

I met Umbra’s eyes properly. He did seem different. More light… somehow.

“Prod the bond one more time Ransom, I’ll deck you.”

I grinned for half a second before I heard a voice from the hallway.

“Ransom?”

Oh. Shit. Panic rose in my chest, and I choked instead of responding to her.

This was it.

“Dusk said you had a surprise for…” She trailed off as she reached the door, peering in, then caught sight of us, eyes wide.

Umbra clapped me on the shoulder before striding out and leaving me stuck like a deer in headlights.

Fuck. I couldn’t fucking move. Or breathe.

Her dark nightshade scent washed over me, and I stared at the delicate flush to her cheeks. The chaotic waves of her hair that were more shiny now we were doing masks. Then her golden eyes slid from me to the empty shelf on the wall.

And she froze.

Oh dear.

What was I thinking? This was her nest.

The book stacks were perfect. She didn’t need a fucking bookshelf.

Slowly, she stepped in, eyes fixed on it.

“It’s…” I swallowed. “Your wedding gift. From me,” I stumbled over the statement. “A bookshelf. I was thinking you could use it for your textbooks, and maybe some photos of us? I know it’s not, uh, perfect. But I made it…” I trailed off. “For you.”

She reached it, hand trailing the surface. She was seeing how wrong it was.

“I’m not the best at stuff like this, but I made it from scratch. I promise, Little Reaper, but I think I jumped the gun. The next one won’t be as…well…” I winced. “I’ll figure out what went wrong with the varnish. I…” I cursed internally. I never should have done this. Furniture stores existed for a reason.

It was me.

I was the reason.

“I just wanted to make you something…”

“It’s…” Her voice was soft, and my stomach dropped as she turned to me.

No.

---