Page 34 of The Omega Trials: Part Two

With or without the bond, she’s still mine to protect, to hold. And that’sallI want to do.

To my surprise, she’s the first one to speak. “What happened to your parents?”

Her question is the last thing I expected, and her face is lined with an unreadable emotion. It’s not quite pity and not quite curiosity. Maybe somewhere between genuine interest and guilt for asking.

I’m not sure why she’s asking now, but I will tell her everything. There are only two other living people who know that full story, and I want her to be the third.

And maybe with it, we can build a new bond, one where we aren’t just an alpha and an omega.

When I first start telling her our story, I fix my gaze on the sky, counting shooting stars and connecting constellations. I need to focus on something far away to be able to talk about something so close. Even though our parents were taken by the Echelon and killed in an “accident” a decade ago, the wound it caused is as fresh as if it happened yesterday.

It is uncomfortable, and my throat constricts around my words more than a few times. But the more raw and vulnerable I feel, the less I need the stars and the more I need her.

Somewhere along the way, she spun on the blanket to face me and my hand found her knee.2 As I speak, my thumb traces circles on her skin, the connection all I need and purely human.

She doesn’t say anything until I finish talking. There’s obviously more; how could I condense a lifetime of memories into one night?

I find I’m nervous waiting for her to speak. Did she finally see that we all have more damage than could possibly be fixed? Does she think less of me now that she knows my many scars and few triumphs? Will she question how I can ever keep her safe when I couldn’t keep my own mother safe?

She looks at me and her eyes remind me of the moon, silvery and bright. I swallow dryly, waiting.

“You have a lot more of your mom in you than your father.”

She states it so simply, like it’s a fact. She must not have been listening.

I remove my hand from her leg and rub the back of my neck. “You don’t know that.”

She gets that same stubborn, brave look in her eyes, the one I’ve seen so many times. Its fire is a familiar and comforting burn. “You may not see it, but I do.”

I can’t help but laugh because some part of me is relieved more by her signature willfulness than the words themselves.

She crosses her arms obstinately. “Believe me or don’t, but it’s true.”

I tongue my molars at her cocky response, and before I know it, my hand cups her cheek and my fingers thread into her hair. Without thinking, I tilt her face up as I dip down.

I stop myself. My breath hitches right before our noses meet. I can feel the soft feathering of hers on my lips. Her cheek warms under my palm. My heart feels like a bass drum in my chest.

“Can I kiss you?” I breathe quietly, pleadingly. I feel her swallow where my pinky rests along her jaw and my lungs freeze.

“Do you want to?” she answers in an equally soft tone, though so full of doubt that it pains me.

My lungs release. “So fucking bad.”

I say it with my whole damn heart, and I hope she can hear it. But just in case, I cover her mouth with mine and kiss her with everything I have, so if she can’t, at least she can feel it.

I clutch her face with both hands and deepen the kiss, teasing the seam of her lips with my tongue, holding back as much as I can. She relaxes and yields to me, letting me in, andfuck . . .

“You still taste like mine,” I whisper against her lips.

As if that were all she needed to hear, the hands resting in her lap dive to my waist, and she pulls herself closer to me. I wrap one arm around her back while my mouth remembers what it’s like to get lost in her.

Her palms slide down my sides and her fingers dip under my shirt. They’re cold and the chill is like a live wire. Or maybe that’s just what it’s like being touched by her. Her hands roam up my ribs, and those butterflies batter to break free.

My shirt rides up, and I let her pull it over my head before laying her on her back. My body hovers above her, and there’s no doubt in my mind this is how it’s meant to be: me and her, breathless and together.

I lower my head and press my lips to her rising and falling chest, kissing a path along the loose neckline of her dress. She arches into me, and I continue down her sternum and belly over her dress while pushing it up her legs.

My fingers hook in the ties of her bikini bottoms, and she stills.

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