Page 82 of Fragile Heart

Her throat ripples as she swallows. The silence lengthens between us. I’m a breath away from saying something—anything—to make this whole part move faster. She grabs the envelope and pulls the information out without breaking my gaze. It’s not until she has the information spread out in front of her that she glances down at it.

A mix of emotions crosses her face too fast for me to read all of them—but the worry is easy enough to see. She breathes deeply, and her eyes flutter closed. She swallows again. I spread my legs, my body deciding now is the perfect time to respond to her.

“I’m Matchless,” she whispers without opening her eyes. “I haven’t looked into if the scent matches are enough to overturn it.”

Jealousy burns anew in my stomach, and this time I don’t quell it.

That Beta asshole got this from her, too? The closest a Beta can come to making an Omega theirs without an Alpha intervening. A permanent classification—at least until that Omega figured out that scent matches were a thing. Now there’s a process for overturning it, at least in theory.

“All right.” My voice is surprisingly level. With a sigh, I ease to my feet and adjust my hat again. “Like I said, it doesn’t need to mean anything. But I wanted to give you the information before the Council sends you some kind of notification.”

I turn toward the door.

“Ethan.”

Her voice stops me just as completely as the hand she wraps around my wrist.

“Do you want it to mean nothing?” she asks.

My gaze skims over her, drinking her in, every small detail that’s the same and yet different. The silky brown hair, the soulful brown eyes, the tanned skin that’s grown even more golden since she moved here.

The perusal stops on the just-forming bruises from that asshole. I force down the protective rage, the need to feel that fucker’s bones break under my fist.

Do I want her? God, yes. I want her.

To myself—and to her—I’m done denying it. Do I want the scent match to mean nothing? No.

I shake my head, not sure my voice will work.

She stands and closes the distance between us. It’s automatic to palm her waist. Her breath hitches for a heartbeat, and my body grows unbearably hot and tight. Mint bleeds out from me, filling the space around us, between us. Her nostrils flare.

“I don’t want it to mean nothing, either,” she whispers.

I cradle her cheek and pull her body into me until every single line of hers molds to mine. Fuck, even the way we line up is perfect. Her lips part, and her pulse ticks in her throat.

“Whatever you want, princess,” I mutter.

And then I cover her mouth with mine.

Chapter Thirty-Six

BRIELLE

We’re a mess of limbs and teeth and lips as Ethan pulls me from his truck and carries me through his house, not bothering to turn on a single light. He nips at the empty space under my right ear, pulling it between his teeth just hard enough to bruise. He kicks the door closed and crosses the large room, his mint drowning out the space by the time his knees bump the end of the bed.

“Ethan,” I whisper. I dig my nails into his shoulders and try to get better leverage. I need him—his knot and his scent and hisbite.

I groan with the force of it.

“Princess,” he murmurs against the shell of my ear. He sets a knee on the bed, and then we’re falling. His arms cradle me, keeping me from feeling the impact. He pushes my shirt up, baring my belly and the bottom half of the lacy bralette. His lips roam down my jaw and throat, pausing at the hollow between my collarbones. His hands tighten on my waist as he grabs theneckline of my shirt with his teeth. It pulls taut, a half-second from ripping at the seams.

Panic seizes me so fast, I lose my breath and my throat dries. Hecannotrip this shirt.

“Don’t,” I gasp.

He growls. Something in my mind must be messed up because the sound has heat rushing through me instead of worry. Slick coats my scent blockers, and I clench my legs.

“It smells like Jake.” His voice is low, and it rumbles through me.

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