Page 32 of Indigo

I squeeze my eyes shut, and more tears fall. I never thought about them when all they did was think about me.

“Shh, baby. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Hank’s term of endearment slices my heart in two, and instead of calming me, I find myself crying even harder.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t think about how this felt for you,” I confess, opening my eyes to him. “I was so selfish.”

“You have all the right to be defensive. You’ve been through a lot. It doesn’t matter what it’s like to us.”

He dismisses his own feelings so carelessly. Fuck, why Hank of all people? I was so scared when I saw him for the first time. Tall and imposing, I knew I couldn’t win a fight against him. I remember tipping my chin up and scowling, trying to prove I was not to be messed with when our eyes met. Fuck, how could I be so wrong? The man is a teddy bear.

“I don’t want to be a bitch anymore.”

“Jesus, Indigo. You’re not a bitch, not by a long—”

“I always try to be. It’s the only defense I have, but I think along the way, I forgot to turn it off. I don’t want to be the Poisonous Omega anymore.”

“What is Poisonous Omega?” Nash asks, making me glance his way.

Hank lets me go, and I miss his warmth right away. I step closer, not ready for the space between us, and I place my hand over his heart, feeling his heartbeat beneath my fingertips before I can talk.

“It’s what they called me back in the breeding house. I miscarried four times, you see. They used to mock that I was such a bitch, nothing would grow inside me.”

Poisonous Omega has been a fact in my life. It hurt when I was lying on the floor beside a pool of my own blood, feeling like a true bitch because I was relieved I wasn’t bringing a baby into a breeding ring. I watched the way it broke Manuela. For me, the pain lasted only a moment, but for her, it lasted a lifetime.

Their mockery felt justified. It made sense to blame me because deep down, I was scared shitless to carry a full-term pregnancy just so the baby would be taken away.

Instead of understanding, my explanation brings indignation. Hank reels back, eyes wide, searching mine. Nash pales as if he’s about to puke in the space between us. And Cassidy… oh crazy Cassidy…

“They said what?” He’s up in a second, hands closed in a fist. “Who are those motherfuckers? Where are they?”

“Dead.”

They know this. Dominic and Major infiltrated the breeding house four months ago, guns blazing. They killed our rapists and took us from there. It doesn’t register with him. He shakes his head.

“They died too easily.”

I agree. They died before I could take revenge, before any of us could see their suffering. They died in a span of a few minutes. One moment they were there, and the next, their blood was splattered around the kitchen. I was relieved, of course. Even if it was only a small part of me that believed the impossible, I was still relieved, but there was never closure. They live beyond their graves, inside our heads, dictating our actions.

Before I let myself go deeper into the meaning of it all, Hank’s hands are on me again. My skin heats with the contact, reminding me I don’t have much longer until there’s a new wave of need. It will take my conscience with it. Nothing will be left but the heat.

His chest brushes against mine, and under the thick robe, my nipples pebble, begging for his attention. I feel the start of the fire when Hank’s eyes land on mine. There’s so much passion in one look that my knees wobble.

“You’re nothing but perfect. Extraordinary. You’re strong, capable, and a force of nature. Now tell me, beautiful girl, how do you want me?”

Every whispered word hits me right in the chest. I swallow a sob and shiver as every thought wipes from my mind.

“I want you everywhere, however you want to take me.”

He shakes his head. “I’m yours, baby. I’ve always been yours. I’m your mate to reject and your mate to keep.”

How the fuck does someone like him make me feel this safe?

Swallowing down a sob, I jump on him, my hands closing around his neck until he lowers enough for his lips to brush against mine. At the first contact, my toes curl, and I whimper between his lips. I’m hungry and unrefined. The need to kiss him is bigger than the obvious fears plaguing my mind. I gasp when his tongue brushes against my lips. He confuses my surprise with rejection and stops, though it’s the last thing I want him to do.

“Would you prefer it if I didn't kiss you?”

“I want to kiss you, but I have never kissed before.”