Page 220 of Caged

The paleness of her skin made the bruises still lining her throat stand out obscenely. I couldn’t stop staring at them, remembering the other morning at breakfast, when she thought I was about to hit her.

Fuck, I can’t get that moment out of my brain. It was so disturbing and seemed so real.

Like a learned response.

And last night, she looked as shocked to run into me as I was to be there in the first place. Worse than that… she looked fucking wrecked. Her skin was pale, her hands were chapped, and she was so Fates-damned small I was afraid I’d break her if I got too close.

Then, out of nowhere, my Alpha went fucking ballistic. Beating against my chest, screaming, ‘Fix her! Now! How the fuck can you look at her like that and not do anything? She’s hurting. She’s an Omega. You’re supposed to protect her. Hold her. Purr for her.’

It was pure primal instinct, urging me to protect. My Alpha’s normally not so vocal. I don’t make a habit of suppressing my instincts, but my Alpha’s just never shown much interest in Omegas one way or another.

Well, apparently that’s changed.

It’s like in that moment, his desires overtook everything. All I wanted to do was pull her too-thin body into mine and purr until she was limp in my arms. I wanted to build her a nest of all my clothes and the softest blankets I could find. Feed her by hand until she was healthy, and I could no longer see her collarbone under the thin fabric of her shirt.

It was complete madness.

It’s also the first time I’ve agreed with Dax about the power Omegas have over our biology. If my Alpha instincts rode me that hard without even scenting her Omega perfume, I can’t imagine how easily she could manipulate us if she weren’t on the suppressant.

There’s no reason to bring any of that up, though. As long as she keeps her mouth shut, I can keep pretending I’m not breaking my brothers’ trust by giving into the need to provide for the sad little Omega, even if it’s only in a small way.

Emotional treason, thy name is Vaelenor.

“I also found this,” Dax sets a small leather-bound book on the coffee table between us, shaking me out of my thoughts. I snatch it, more than happy for a distraction. Flipping through the pages, I squint at the dates and the faded scrawl.

Not a book, then. A journal.

“And this,” he places the second object down a bit more gently.

It’s a dagger with a bone-carved hilt. The bone is smooth and polished. A white that doesn’t occur in nature. It’s weirdly perfect with no obvious signs of treatment.

My fingers curl around the hilt, and I blink back a wave of dizziness. Fates, I have the strangest sense that this bone’s never actually been in a body.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, but instead of putting the dagger down, I tighten my grip.

“What the fuck is it?”

Dax plucks the journal up from where I tossed it unceremoniously on the couch. “That’s the dagger the Omega had when I walked in after the grid went down. Figured I’d take it before she could use it to stab us in the back.”

“Who’d it belong to?” Gavran leans over and pulls the dagger out of my hand.

I want it back.

My body leans forward instinctively, fingers twitching like I’m about to snatch it right out of his hand.

Not because I have to have it. Definitely not because it was warm and pulsing in my hand, like it’d been made to fit there.

“Alright, Gollum, calm the fuck down.” Dax slaps my hand away, using his other arm to shove me back into the couch cushions.

“That right there,” he adds, pointing at me, but directing his answer to Gavran, “is why I took it from her.”

I blink, trying to work out what the hell just happened.

“That feeling you’re getting? Like you want to hide it and never let it out of your sight?”

Gav and I both nod.

“That’s why I didn’t leave it with the Omega.”