Nothing will make her past okay.
Nothing will ease her misery.
Nothing will bring them back.
It was selfish, my lashing out. The definition of me—self-centered and foolhardy, always mocking the world and making light of terrible situations.
It isn’t right.
I was wrong.
There’s no taking back my actions or forgetting what I saw.
She deserves better.
No.
She can’t have better.
She is mine.
All it took was one second of feeling our hearts mingle for me to lose every argument I had against lifemating.
Fuck my upbringing. Fuck my preconceived notions of how my life should go. Fuck my disdain for fate deciding who I can and can’t be with.
Call me a changed man…
Well, mostly changed. I’m still an Alpha Elite. Still me. Still due an ass whoopin’.
I settle my eyes on Vander, ready to hop to my feet and meet his attack should he choose to engage.
Kwame’s movement in my periphery makes my muscles bunch in apprehension, but he doesn’t step closer. He urges Britani to sit in the seat behind him, shielding her from the display of aggression.
Realizing my teammates ceased their growling a few seconds ago, I keep my senses alert, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Feminine hiccups and a little whine fills my ears, and I swallow as more guilt sprouts from my pile of emotions. The females' fear hangs heavy in the air, an almost palpable thing.
“What was that, Jumoke?” Vander snaps, his dark brown eyes daring me to evade, promising retribution should I step one toe out of line again.
I run my fingers through my hair, not sure where to start, still too worked up to control my tongue.
Silence is most likely the best course of action, especially since I very much have dug myself into a hole. Words will probably make it much worse right now.
I look to Anastasia, hoping to convey my emotions to her without getting jumped by a teammate.
My throat clogs at her predicament. The lines surrounding her eyes have sunken deep. Her ashen face highlights how tiny her orange irises have become, her pupils almost blown.
Even with the gloves on, I can tell her knuckles are white, her fingers pressing against the back of her hands as though she’s hanging on for dear life.
“I’m sorry, Anastasia.”
The words slip from my mouth, my tongue moving before I intend to speak, my heart blurting from between my teeth.
It in no way makes up for my recklessness, but there’s no time like the present to start doing the right thing.
Right?
Despite the iron grip she retains on our bond, I offer my apology, hoping she’ll let some filter through the sieve of her control. When some trickles through, I fight the urge to cram more at her, knowing she’d close down further instead of accepting it.
The lines bracketing her eyes soften, but no color returns to her face.
“Apology accepted.”
My hackles rise as Seeck chuffs and interjects his opinion.
“You don’t have to forgive him. He could do with you putting him in his place.”
I want to rage and wallop Seeck as her gaze leaves mine to meet his.
“He knows who he is to me. We’re both aware this cannot work. Refusing to forgive him will do neither of us any good. It will not improve anyone’s situation for me to hold a grudge. There are more pressing matters to attend to.”
Seeck’s eyes widen as he realizes he’s been verbally smacked down by an Omega who’s seconds away from collapsing.
Shit, she really doesn’t look good.
But she just owned Seeck so thoroughly, so ruthlessly, with prim words and proper verbiage, and I can’t help the swell of pride and astonishment knocking my aversion to lifemating even further away. The ache to connect with her, in any way possible, grows in my chest and flows into my soul.
I want to refute her denial of our success, but I understand the situation. Our prognosis seems rather bleak.
Her tortured eyes move to me, as though our tie demands she look, but after a second, she pulls her attention away and speaks to the entire room.
“I am due to enter heat in eight days.”
Whatever hold I imagined I had on my thoughts fail. My muscles lock as my lungs squeeze, every cell in my body going haywire.
Envisioning her plump lips swollen and wet from her tongue and teeth, my cock instantly hardens. She’d be gorgeous with her lush breasts, trim waist, and wide hips on display in my bed. Her slick would perfume the air, enticing me to move closer so I could see her play with herself.
She’d writhe and beg, calling for me to relieve her.
I’d crawl into our nest and listen to her wanton moans, staring at her parted lips until I lower my mouth to hers.
Reality crashes down on me.
There will be no mating. No knotting. No claiming.
She’s sick.
Even if she wasn’t, her past holds too much grief for a joyous union.
If I move, I’ll ruin everything.
Silence stretches on as everyone takes their time to process her bombshell.
Vander shifts, rubbing the back of his neck as he swaps which leg crosses over the other. With his ass against the control panel, he’s propped in the position with the best view of the room.
Lifting his head, the salt portion of his hair reflects the bright overhead light, the only movement in the room. He meets Anastasia’s eyes before dropping his palms to the edge of his makeshift seat and leaning forward a tad.
“It may be sooner,” he says.
“No. My dates are exact.”
“Have you ever been around an Alpha?”
A slight pause accompanies the deepening of the strain lines around her eyes.
“Yes, long ago.”
I must be a statue. Even a growl will force me into motion, which will equal her in my arms.
“Have you ever been exposed to five healthy, strong Alphas for a prolonged period of time?”
“No.”
“Then your heat will come early.”
After a few terrible heartbeats, she nods her understanding and acceptance.
“Then matters must be decided.”
She’s too damn strong. While I’m over here locked in a pathetic battle of wills against myself, she’s facing the
