Page 39 of The Delta's Rogue
“It’s comfy. And you stole my dress,” she points out.
I lift one finger, chuckling. “Nonono. I stole astripof your dress. You’re taking my whole sweater.”
Sarina doesn’t respond or react to my attempt of lightening the mood, save for the slight twitch of her lips hinting at her amusement. She pulls her transport stone from her pocket and tosses it into the air. Catching it with one hand, she winks at me. “Merry Christmas, Sebby.”
She disappears from my office, leaving me staring at the empty, lonely room. My jaw clenches as I stare at the spot she vacated. I whirl towards the desk, slamming my hand down onto it. The brief physical pain does nothing to ease my inner frustrations.
It’s been an unspoken agreement between us that I won’t ask her about her past, her family, or the work she and her nomadic group do as they travel from pack to pack, helping those who need it, but I can’t help the irritation rippling through me every time she brushes me off or changes the subject.
I never push, though. That’s not me. As much as I want to know about her, as much as I want her to trust me, I recognize that pushing her to tell me things she doesn’t want to or isn’t ready to isn’t how I gain that trust.
I grab my keys and wallet, murmuring, “Merry Christmas, Little Rogue,” and leave the office to head home.
I shove my handsin my pockets as I cross the grounds towards the neutral section of the forest. My fingers brush against the crumpled note I shoved in there as soon as I found it on my desk at The Black Door.
Meet me in my tent.
That’s all it said, written in perfect swirling calligraphy.
The only reason I knew it was from Sarina was the lingering honeysuckle scent embedded into the fibers. And because she left the sweater she stole on Christmas Eve right next to it.
That night was the last time we saw each other aside from quick glimpses here and there, and now it’s spring. Between my work at the club and my preparations for becoming the official delta of Crescent Lake in a few nights, and her work helping Alpha Benjamin hunt down the last holdouts from his dad’s reign, there’s been no time to sneak away to be with her.
Something seemed to shift between us after that night.
I could have pushed to make it happen, to bring her to me or make my way to her, but while she agreed to be my sub, we didn’t agree to anything deeper than that. There is a fine line between being dominant and being controlling, and I refuse to cross it.
That doesn’t mean I’m not obsessed with her. I will burn the world down to its core to find her when the time comes. I already promised her that. I will do whatever it takes to hold her in my arms once more, no matter how long ittakes.
And if she leaves me again? I’ll do it all over so I can have her, as many times as I have to until she realizes there’s no use in leaving me behind.
But being her Dom is more than dominating her body and pleasure when we’re together. It’s about respecting her and her boundaries. I can’t teach her the correct dynamic if I’m acting in a way unbecoming of a Dom.
Meet me in my tent.
I know why she wants to see me tonight. I feel it in my bones.
It’s the moment I’ve been dreading. The moment that twists my stomach into knots and makes the brutal, primal part of me rage against the chains I use to keep it locked up tight inside me whenever I think of it happening.
She’s leaving.
I don’t need words written on a strip of paper to tell me that, and I would bet everything I have—everything I am—on it.
I considered staying away, contemplated hiding in my new apartment in the packhouse for the entire night to avoid the inevitable, but my feet carried me down the stairs, out the back door, and across the grounds before I realized what I was doing.
Now, I find myself in the clearing where her pack’s stayed the entire time they’ve been in the area. The tents are closed up tight, with no trace of her or any of her friends—not even embers glow in the fire pit. It’s cold, empty, and foreboding.
A shudder runs through me, and I lock my eyes on my destination: the dark blue tent set slightly apart from the rest.
Sarina’s tent.
I reach for the flap, and as soon as I do, Sarina’s voice floats towards me from the edge of the clearing.
“We meet again, Pretty Boy.”
I whip my head around and find her smiling teasingly at me, arms crossed over her black T-shirt, her red choker wrapped around her throat. The ache in my gut grows. She stands there with all the confidence in the world projected to everyone, but in her eyes, I see it. She holds the same anguish within them that I hold in my soul.
“Hello, Little Rogue.” I hold the flap open for her, smirking as she stalks around me and enters the tent.
