Page 66 of The Gamma's Second Chance

But with her revelation comes more questions, along with the realization that there is still so much about her I don’t know. She’s a mystery. A beautiful, compelling mystery, layered and complex, and waiting for me to discover her secrets.

My fingers pause their perusal of her body, and I lean over her, pressing my palm into her back. “Cassandra?”

She lifts her head an inch off the pillow. “Hmm?”

“I…” I swallow and drop my chin to my chest. My voice catches in my throat, and I shake my head. “Never mind.”

She turns her head to face me, her cheek still resting on the pillow. “What?”

I sigh and my fingers flex against her back, my jaw clenching for a moment as we stare at each other. “I just—I have some questions, but only if you’re up for them,” I finally say.

“I’m fine. I promise.”

I search her eyes and analyze her body language and her heart rate, checking for any sense of hesitation from her. Finding none, I ask what’s been bothering me the most since she told Benjamin her story. “Why did Pierce wait until after Haven’s adoption to have Gladys cast the curse?”

She inhales through her nose, and I tuck a section of her hair behind her ear, waiting for her to speak and answer my question, giving her the patience and the time she deserves to piece her thoughts together.

“Pierce’s last visit—the visit which resulted in my mother’s pregnancy—was when he stole Selene’s hair from the relic, which is what he used to finally find Haven. But it was several years before the adoption happened. Pierce wanted to have access to my mother should he still need to trick an oracle into helping him. Once the adoption happened, though, he had no more use for her. According to Gladys, he thought since my mom was only a werewolf, that the physical pain and emotional trauma caused by the curse would kill her. He thought she’d be unable to endure any of it. He never considered the possibility of her having a child or that child being a lycan.”

I cup her cheek with my hand and scoot closer to her. Her skin against mine works to calm the rage building inside me, the rage that’s been growing since our visit to Benjamin, and I hope my touch soothes her as well. “I can’t even imagine how awful it must have been for you and how awful it must be to endure the memories.”

Her shoulder lifts in a half-shrug. “Like I said, I’ve lived with this for sixteen years.”

“Cassandra…” My grip on her tightens and I shake my head. “That doesn’t mean it gets any easier. Remembering the pain, reliving those memories, and knowing you had the choice of having your own children stolen from you?”

I press our foreheads together and grit my teeth, holding in the growl threatening to escape me. I wish I could fix this for her, but I know I can’t. All I want to do is wrap her up and keep her close, protecting her for the rest of my days, so nothing will ever hurt her again.

And bring that bastard Pierce back from the dead so I can kill him all over again.

She twists and covers my hand with hers, leaning her chest against mine. “Sometimes I think it will. Get easier. Then I see a new doctor, and they run their tests and reconfirm that, yes, allmy eggs are dead, and it’s like I’m understanding it for the first time again. Or some well-meaning but rather insensitive aging oracle will suggest I just ask the king for his best healer.” She scoffs and her muscles tighten. “As if a healer can fix what isn’t there to heal or bring things back from the dead. There is no magical solution. I gave up hope of that long ago.”

“Have you ever considered… what I mean is… what I’m trying to ask is whether children are something you still desire, even though you can’t have them yourself?”

Her brow furrows a little. “I’ve never really thought about other options. I resigned myself to being alone because…”

“Because who would want to be with someone who can’t give them the one thing almost all werewolves want most, other than a mate?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. But it’s too late. Cassandra flinches back and blinks up at me, and I press my thumb into her cheek to keep her gaze level with mine. “I didn’t mean me. I just—”

“I know.” She inhales—a deep, shaky breath—then rolls away and sits up, sliding off the far end of the mattress. Her back is to me, her hands gripping the edge, and her hair falling forward on either side of her face.

My hand curls into a fist in the warm, empty spot where her body was only seconds before. My wolf glares at it and me, and I already miss her nearness and her touch, and I hate myself for what I said. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Another deep breath from her, her entire body tensing and relaxing with the action. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore right now.”

“Then we won’t.”

It’s the opposite of what I want to do. The opposite of what my instincts tell me to do.

I want to fix this. I want to solve all her problems. But I know trauma isn’t so easily mended. It takes time, and it takes support from others, and sometimes that support is knowing when to let it be. Forcing her to open up when she doesn’t want to will do no good. It will only push her away.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she says, rising from the bed and strolling to the en suite bathroom door.

“Do you have everything you need?” She lifts a brow at me over her shoulder. “Just making sure so you don’t get water on the floor,” I say with a wink.

A small grin creeps onto her face, adding a touch of sparkle to her green eyes. It’s there and gone in a flash, but for a moment, she’s her usual smiling, bubbly self. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining the floors like that.”

I chuckle as she heads into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked open. The water runs, and I fall against the pillows, the heels of my hands digging into my eyes. The powerful urge to fix lingers within me, and it kills me that there isn’t anything I can do for her. It’s all I can think about, and I fear it will consume me.

Distraction. What I need is a distraction.

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