Page 20 of Depraved
“One of your books doesn’t have a solution?” Matthew arches a brow.
“Not that I can think of off the top of my head.”
He taps his index finger against the back of his hand. “I’m almost certain you told me a story one time about the beta who tried to fight like an alpha.”
“The Beta Warrior? That’s just an old legend. Like Paul Bunyan or the Chupacabra.”
“Is it the one where he learned to shift only his arms?”
“Yup. That’s the one. Some beta writer daydreaming he was an alpha. Wishful thinking.”
Matthew’s watch beeps and he unlinks his fingers to tap at the screen. “Oops, that’s my dinner timer. I need to go baste a turkey. Unfortunately, that is not a metaphor for anything else. I will actually be basting a turkey.”
The fucker makes me chuckle as he stands and heads to the door. He pauses in the doorway to look back at me. His eyes grow thoughtful. “You know, a couple of months ago, if I’d have mentioned an omega to you, that would’ve seemed just as fantastical as a legend. Some would have called that wishful thinking.”
“What are you saying?”
He gives a small shrug as he starts to pull the door closed. But he stops and glances at me. “Maybe the world needs more wishful thoughts.”
I want to throw my apple slice at him. I swear, he’s getting senile in his old age. Life doesn’t come with happy endings. Just endings, period. And they’re often brutal and painful. There’s no way a stupid fairytale is the solution to this Jonah problem.
I just have no clue what is.
6
ELENA
Jonah’s avoiding me.I know he is because every time I go into his room, he’s sleeping. But he woke up yesterday and came downstairs. He ate breakfast and spoke with Matthew but didn’t ask for me. He didn’t come find me.
He’s been asleep ever since. Pretending to sleep because his breath is too shallow and his eyelashes don’t flutter dreamily like they did when I watched him that first night. He won’t talk to me. He wants me to go away. And I don’t know why.
I nearly lost him a few nights ago and that was devastating. It broke my heart.
I didn’t realize that the pieces of a broken heart could still shatter.
I don’t know what I did wrong.
Matthew and the healers say Jonah’s just resting, that his body needs a lot of sleep so he can restore himself. “He expended a lot of magic to come back like he has,” Black told me. “He might only be half-awake. He might not be able to open his eyelids. Just be patient.”
They all say that.
But I know better.
He doesn’t squeeze my hand when I squeeze his. He doesn’t curl into me in his sleep, even though shifters are typically drawn to warmth and cuddle puddles.
The night he was first brought in, I swear I felt him squeeze my hand. But since then, nothing.
It’s me. I know it’s me.
I’ve done something and his subconscious is rejecting me. I’ve done something but I don’t know what.
Did I take him for granted?
Yes. Probably. I’ve been such a selfish ass. I should have dated him for real back when I’d had the chance. I think about his bright blue eyes and the way he used to smile whenever we met up for class. I should have let him take me to the movies. Danced with him under the stars. Kissed him on my front porch.
Was it walking out of the pack house that day? Was it my freak out over the marriage question? He knows how I feel about marriage and its toxic hold.
Is he disappointed because that’s what he wants? Marriage? Even if the question was about Black and not him?
