Page 73 of Roulette Rodeo
She pouts—actually pouts, lower lip pushed out in a way that makes me want to bite it—then grins and leans down to whisper to Duke:
"Let me have him. He likes me better."
Duke wags his tail in agreement,the traitor, and I can't help but laugh. When was the last time I laughed? Really laughed, not the dark chuckle that comes from gallows humor, but actual, genuine laughter?
She giggles too, the sound mixing with mine in the clearing, and suddenly I'm crouching in front of her before I make the conscious decision to move.
My hand comes up slowly—never startle an omega who's been in captivity—and settles against her cheek. Her skin is soft, warm, alive under my palm.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, little cherry."
The words come out softer than intended, barely above a whisper.But I can't help it.She'd been so still for so long, her body fighting off Marnay's poison while we watched helplessly. There'd been a moment—just one, but it had lasted forever—when Dr. Voss hadn't been sure she'd make it.
The memory of that possibility, of losing her before we'd even had her, makes me look at her now like the miracle she is.
She must see something in my expression because she leans in, pressing her lips to mine in the gentlest kiss.
Barely there, more breath than contact, but it rewires my entire nervous system.
"Don't look so sad," she whispers against my mouth. "It doesn't suit you."
We stay frozen for a moment, her eyes searching mine, finding something that makes her expression soften further.
I nod, slow and careful, then lean in until my forehead rests against hers.
"Just stay like this. Just for a moment."
The words crack something open in my chest. Because this—her warmth, her scent, her impossible existence in my life—feels too good to be real. And I've learned that things that feel too good usually are.
We breathe together, shared air in shared space, while Duke settles against our sides like he's standing guard. The forest whispers around us, and for this moment, everything else fades.
But reality always intrudes.
She pulls back slightly, enough to look at me properly.
"Are you okay?" Her voice is gentle, concerned. "Do you want to talk about it?"
The question is so earnest, so genuinely caring from someone who has every reason to be selfish right now, that it catches me off guard.
I think about telling her. About Sophia, our failures, explain why Rafe looks at her like she's a death sentence walking.
About the promise we'd made to never have an omega again…to never risk that kind of destruction.
But that's not my story alone to tell.
"I'd rather learn everything about you," I say instead.
She giggles—that sunshine sound again—and tilts her head.
"Are you trying to be romantic?"
"If I were, I'd fail," I admit with brutal honesty. "I suck at that shit. You'd have better luck with Talon or Corwin. They have actual romantic charm with omegas."
"And you have...?" She trails off, eyebrow arched in challenge. "Chemistry in the form of sex?" She says it like a question, but her smirk suggests she already knows the answer.
I grin, not even trying to deny it.
"Well...yeah. I can't bullshit that."
