Page 82 of Knot a Thief

“Were?” I shake my head, not understanding.

“I don’t want an omega. Scent match or not. I get monthly injections to suppress my scent.”

“Is that why Max hired you? Because he knew you were my scent match, too?”

“Scent matches are drawn to each other. Packs are drawn to each other. He sent me to Garrett Jameson’s fundraiser. I had a wife and a child, but he wanted to know if your scent was truly invisible.”

I shake my head. “He sent you because he wanted to know if I’d react to you?”

“And you did. And my wife noticed.” He pauses as he inhales deeply through his nose. “She noticed me too.”

“I didn’t react to you.” My voice has an edge of defiance to it.

He taps the tip of his pointer finger just below my right eye and says, “These did. Your nose may not have reacted, but your eyes went black.”

I gasp. “I’m sorry.”

He chuckles. “Why?”

“Because I take it that’s why your wife left you and Lily.”

His chin tilts high as he looks at the seagulls flying high and shakes his head. “She didn’t just leave us. She tried to kill me that night. Drove the car into a tree. She was prepared to leave Lily in this world all alone, because I was attracted to you. Despite me telling her I would never leave her.”

“I’m sure your attraction to your wife was real and not just an alpha omega scent.” I blurt. “I mean, I love Seb. He’s a beta. We can deny our biology. It’s just willpower.”

“Shut up,” he growls under his breath as Lily gets closer.

Blood courses through my veins, straight to my ears, pounding against my drums as the weight of everything presses down on me.

“Daddy.” Lily takes hold of Silas’ hand as my own covers my mouth.

“I’m sorry.” I press a kiss to the top of Lily’s head, turn and run up the pathway back to the villa.

Locking myself in my room as Silas’s words go over and over in my head.

You owe me.

Only then do I realize his wife is dead.

And he blames me.

Chapter 24

Silas

The soft glow of the setting sun filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the polished hardwood floors of her bedroom.

“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” I announce, my voice steady despite the strain.

I stand at the doorway to her bedroom, my reflection barely visible in the mirrored closet doors.

Ava lies on top of the king-sized nest, her slender form hidden by the crisp white duvet and the hundreds of blankets and cushions.

She doesn’t look at me as she responds, “I’m not hungry.”

I hold back a growl.

Since our discussion at the beach, the air is thick with tension. It’s a familiar sensation that settles on my shoulders.

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