Page 47 of Bait Wolf
Coal’s frown deepened and he reached out. I took his offered hand, warmth spreading through me as he linked our fingers.
“You’re an omega,” he said thoughtfully. “How you could possibly blend into the shadows before is beyond me. I mean, maybe now that you carry my scent but—”
His voice faltered as he realized the truth. His gaze fixed on mine sharply, searching, and I shrank back, suddenly wishing I could take it all back. My heart seized and I looked down at my nearly empty plate, waiting for him to say something.
It seemed to take forever.
“How many were there before me?” he asked slowly, his voice a deep, dangerous rumble.
I pulled my hand out of his grip, hiding them both in my lap.
“I’m not sure,” I forced myself to admit.
On the streets, I often carried the scents of other alphas. Especially any with an oncoming rut and some extra money. Sometimes I even enjoyed the intimacy, feeling briefly needed until their rut passed and I was discarded again. Whenever I went into heat, those were my worst times. Feeling vulnerable with strangers from the streets wasn’t my idea of fun. It felt worse afterward knowing I had no control and knowing that the alphas who wanted me in those moments knew that and didn’t care.
I swallowed, chanced a glance up and saw the way Coal’s jaw was clenched before looking quickly away. A darkness settled over our table; my own emotions mixed with Coal’s and the result was a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Coal took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, but the feeling of his anger only intensified.
Biting my lip, I forced myself to reach across the table and touch his arm, trying to calm him. I wasn’t afraid of Coal anymore, even though only a day ago he’d completely lost control. But I didn’t want to push him either. After all, his anger had been sparked by the prospect of any alpha comingnearme, let alone fucking me.
“I've been alone most of my life,” I said, still not looking at Coal. “I found a way to blend in early and stay out of trouble.”
Coal was silent for a moment, his arm a tense line of thick muscle.
“How old were you?” he asked.
His question finally drew my gaze because he didn’t sound angry. His expression was guarded when our eyes met. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking but he didn’t seem mad.
He placed his hand over mine where it rested as though to comfort me.
“Tell me, Ember,” he whispered. “How old were you?”
“When I—”
“On your own, homeless… when did it happen?”
“It was gradual,” I said, glad Coal had cut me off. I’d thought he was asking how old I was the first time I’d let an alpha use me and I didn’t think he’d like the answer. Now memories floated back to me.
My home, which had been unstable from the start, had fallen apart to nothing. Even the small comforts I’d clung to, like a bed, were lost.
“I was about seven when it started. My mom… she was on something for a long time, not sure what because she never used in front of me. She’d tell us to ‘go play’ whenever certain men came around… Then at some point, she just stopped coming home. Foster—my older brother—he got mixed in with some people, became their errand boy or something. I’m not sure exactly. He took care of me as best he could for a twelve-year-old.”
Coal cursed, watching me intently, his gaze now filled with nothing but concern.
“Where is he now?” he asked.
I shook my head, a bitter smile touching my face.
“It was like deja vu,” I said, the haunting images of my brother returning to me. “At the start we’d hold onto each other all night long to keep warm. He was the only thing I had left. Then he started to go missing, sometimes for days at a time. Eventually, he just didn’t come back, just like my mom. I have no clue what happened to him.”
My optimistic side hoped he’d been offered a job and been swept away to a different life filled with fun and adventure and comfort and maybe even love. My realistic side offered me images of his pubescent body in a ditch somewhere, long forgotten. In my heart, I knew that Foster never would have left me.
I squeezed his eyes shut, pushing the images down.
“I’m so sorry,” Coal whispered, stroking my knuckles.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat, unsure why I’d even started this conversation, except that I didn’t want Coal to hate me for the things I’d done. I wanted him to understand.
