Page 74 of Claim & Don't Tell

Maybe some part of me already knew. Maybe that’s why I kissed her. Maybe that’s why I never dated anyone. Neither have my brothers. We’re alphas in our prime. We should be anxious to find our mate, and yet, all of us hated the idea of looking for one.

Because she’s hidden herself in front of us all along. Betrayal swims in my gut, but I shove the anger aside.

“Will you wash off the descenting lotion?”

She bites her lip and searches my face. “Why?”

“Because,” Dylan says, coming to stand beside me, “I think I speak for both of us when I say we’ve never wanted anything more than to bask in the perfume of our omega.”

A tear slips down her face. “I’m not?—”

“You are,” I interrupt. “Your scent doesn’t lie, and I can smell it all over the house.”

“We can’t.” In the depths of her irises, I see her heart break.

I hate that.

“We can,” Dylan says.

“But Brady?—”

“Fuck Brady,” I snarl. “He’s an idiot, and we know better than to hurt our mate.” It’s complicated, sure, but what he did? Completely messed up.

Sighing, she scrubs her hand over her face. “I’m not ready to take the lotion off yet.”

She’s guarding herself, and I can’t blame her, not after Brady left her. It’s obvious he rutted her. The scent of their joining is overpowering. If she wasn’t so sad and vulnerable, it would be enough to make me want to rut her as well. But the way her lips pull down, and the way her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, hurts my heart. She tries to pull back, tries to slip out of my hold.

I tighten my fingers around her delicate wrist. “Let me make you food.” Food may not fix everything, but a good meal, one made from the heart, can make even the most horrible of people smile. She stops her retreat. She doesn’t resist. Those watery eyes search my face. “It’s okay,” I soothe.

None of this is okay, but I need her to be okay. I need her to beam at Dylan, laugh at him for the fool he is. I need her grin. I need to hear her call meChef. I need her to come back from whatever Brady did.

I lace my fingers through hers, and Dylan grabs her other hand, doing the same. She resists as we try to lead her down the stairs.

“Please come with us,” he begs, searching her face.

“I don’t know what to do,” she confesses.

“Neither do I.” I tug on her hand again, and this time, she takes the first step down. A small concession. “But I do know that food can help.”

Dylan and I take a step down and Quinn follows, eyes guarded, fingers barely grasping back.

“And maybe we’ll watch a movie after,” Dylan says.

We take another step, and she allows us to continue leading her. Step after step, she gives a little more, and by the last step,her fingers tighten around ours. My heart trembles in my chest, like a dry leaf threatening to break away from its branch at the softest wind.

Fuck. I don’t know what I’ll do if she runs. I don’t know how to deal with losing something before it’s even within my grasp. She’s totally in control right now. I don’t like it, but it’s how it has to be. I can’t force this. I can’t demand she submit. I can’t decide. She has to, and I’m nearly vibrating with the urge to yank her toward me before she’s ready.

But I wait. For her, I’ll wait until it hurts.

“Okay,” she says when we reach the landing.

Dylan and I are on her in an instant, pulling her into our arms, surrounding her, hugging her. Her fingers grasp at our shirts, and she trembles in our hold, but she doesn’t push us away. She doesn’t tell us to stop. She inhales our scents and stifles a soft whine.

That’s right, pretty girl. This is where you belong.

For now, I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give and pray that Brady hasn’t ruined whatever this is for all of us.

DYLAN

---