Page 103 of Storm
Now he does look at me, surprise evident in his expression. "You hated me."
"I did," I agree with a small laugh, absently running my thumb along the worn edge of my book. "You were everything I despised about the system—cold, controlling, the perfect elite alpha lording power over omegas—" I pause, gathering my courage, "—I was wrong."
It's true. The Jonathan I thought I knew at the Omega House was only a fraction of the man before me now.
"I'm sorry," I continue, the words rushing out before I can second-guess them. "For being such a pain in the ass at the Omega House. For making your job harder when you were just trying to find Fox."
Jonathan's expression softens almost imperceptibly. His eyes drop to the book clutched in my hands. "That's why you kept chewing gum, wasn't it? A small act of rebellion. Like the mockingjay pin."
I'm startled by the comparison—and by the fact that he's read the book well enough to make it. "Maybe," I admit. "Frankie kept sneaking it to me."
"I know," Jonathan says, a hint of what might be amusement warming his voice. "I've always known."
I blink, genuinely surprised. "You never stopped it."
"You were the only thing keeping me going some days," he admits, the confession clearly costing him. "Your defiance, your fire... it reminded me why we were there in the first place. Why the system needed to change."
I blink, genuinely startled. "I thought you hated me."
"Never," he says, the word so low I almost miss it. "You frustrated me, challenged me, drove me to the edge of madness sometimes... but I never hated you, Storm."
Something shifts between us, the air growing heavier with unspoken possibilities. I'm suddenly acutely aware of how alone we are out here, how the fading light softens his sharp features, how his scent has deepened with an emotion I can't quite name.
"I think it was fate," Jonathan says suddenly, his voice taking on a quality I've never heard from him before. "You writing our pack name on that ticket. Like deep down, some part of you knew this was how it was meant to be."
The words should sound ridiculous coming from practical, controlled Jonathan. But they don't. They resonate somewhere deep inside me, touching a truth I've been avoiding since that night at the Choosing Day ceremony.
"You think I subconsciously wanted to be part of your pack?" I ask, not sure whether to be amused or offended.
Jonathan shakes his head, a real smile curving his lips now. "I think you subconsciously knew we needed you. That Fox needed you… That I needed you."
"You needed me?" I repeat, the concept so foreign I can barely wrap my mind around it. Jonathan Kingsley, the most self-sufficient alpha I've ever met, needing anyone—let alone me.
"I wouldn't change any of it, Storm," he says, his gaze intensifying. "Not the chaos, not the rebellion, not even the danger. Because it brought you here. To us. To me."
My heartbeat quickens, something warm unfurling in my chest at his words. "I thought you were avoiding me because of Reed," I admit. "Because I chose him first."
Jonathan's hand moves across the space between us, hesitating before covering mine where it rests on top of my book. His touch is warm, strong, and sends a flutter of sensation up my arm.
"I needed time," he says simply. "To process. To accept. To be sure I could face you without letting my alpha instincts take over." His thumb traces gentle circles on the back of my hand. "Reed is good for you. He challenges you, matches your fire with his own."
"And you?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes meet mine, and the raw honesty I see there takes my breath away. "I've always been drawn to you, Storm. From that first day when you stormed into the ring to stop Reed from injuring Rook. With your wild curls and fierce spirit." His voice deepens, grows rougher with emotion. "At the Omega House. You pushed me, challenged me to be a better alpha. A better man."
I turn my hand beneath his, our palms pressing together, fingers intertwining. My book slips from my lap onto the porch swing beside me, momentarily forgotten. "I didn't know," I whisper. "I never thought you saw me as anything but a problem to be managed."
"You were. You are." A smile softens the words. "The most beautiful problem I've ever encountered."
The air between us changes, thickens with possibility and a tension that's been building since that first day in the Omega House when he pinned me beneath him. Slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, Jonathan raises his free hand to cup my cheek, his touch gentle despite the strength I know those hands possess.
"Storm," he murmurs, my name a question and a plea on his lips.
My dark chocolate scent shifts, growing richer, sweeter, perfuming unconsciously in response to him. I can't deny the pull he has on me, just as I couldn't deny Reed, or Rook, or Frankie. Each of them touches a different part of me, fulfills a different need.
Instead of answering with words, I lean forward, closing the distance between us. My lips find his, soft and tentative at first, testing this new territory. Jonathan remains perfectly still for a heartbeat, as if afraid I'll spook and run if he moves too quickly. Then, with a low sound that's almost a groan, he responds.
The kiss deepens, his hand sliding from my cheek to tangle in my wild curls, cradling the back of my head as he pulls me closer. His lips are firm against mine, confident in a way that sends heat spiraling through me. He tastes like coffee and something darker, something uniquely Jonathan.
