Page 67 of Mark & Don't Tell

Twenty-Four

VIC

Daria has been curled up on her couch for the last hour, a box of tissues by her side. Her eyes are red-rimmed and cheeks raw from the tears. I keep waiting for her to get up. To do something so I can go down the fire escape without her noticing, but she doesn’t, and now I’m too worried to leave her.

She isn’t going to like that you’re out here.

But she obviously needs someone.

She could call the cops.

She could keep crying. Alone. Hurting.

“Fuck it,” I grumble, grabbing her cheap window and pushing it open.

Startling, Daria bolts upright and stares at me with wide eyes as I climb through and unfurl to my full height. I stand at the window and wait for her to scream.

She doesn’t.

“Little doe,” I say gruffly. “Who made you cry?” My tone snaps her out of her daze. From my somewhat invasive search of her social media account, I have an idea on who might have caused her this pain. Although her current profile picture is of her, there’s an arm carelessly slung over her shoulder, like the owner of said appendage couldn’t even muster the strength to hold his omega. Whoever it is was cut out of the photo.

Maybe the ex-boyfriend is responsible.

“Are you stalking me?” There’s no anger in the question, more like resignation.

“Sometimes,” I admit.

She laughs, though the sound is sad. “Why?”

Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Because, as much as I love Kai and Linc, part of me wants you all to myself. Because I want to know where you are. I want to know what you do. Because...

“Because you’re my omega,” I say with a smirk. Ex-boyfriends be damned. None of that matters now that we’re scent matches.

“That’s...” She trails off. Her features soften. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” She starts crying again, reaching for a tissue and blowing her nose, a mess of tears and snot and pain.

I’m by her side in three long strides, dropping to my knees and cupping her face. “Tell me how to fix it.”

She sniffs. Leaning into my hand, she sighs. “Can you go back in time?”

“No,” I say sadly. “But I can do so much. Who made you cry, Daria?” I’d like to introduce them to my fist.

As if sensing my intentions, she releases a gut-wrenching sound. “It’s my mom,” she confesses.

My hopes for kicking her ex’s ass plummet off a cliff. “Well, that complicates things,” I say. Even if I did find a way to kick her mom’s ass—maybe asking Letti—I’d run the risk of Daria being mad at me for hurting her mom.

She gives me a sad smile. “I’m really happy you’re here.” Something crosses her face, and she cringes. “And I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why?” I stroke her cheeks with my thumbs.

“Because my place isn’t exactly nice.” She glances away. “Do you want to stay?”

The vulnerability in the question, like I would even consider telling her no, punches through my chest. Fucking hell. This omega already has me hook, line, and sinker.

“Only if you let me spoon you,” I whisper before kissing her gently on the lips.

She sighs against my mouth. “Okay.”

That’s all the permission I need. I grab her around the waist and stand, smiling as her legs instantly wrap around me. She rests her head against my shoulder, and I carry her to her bedroom, setting her on the bed.

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