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He must really hate me.
How long will he let me stay here? Can I possibly convince him to keep me?
Smith points at the one closed door in the room. My heart lifts, thinking that maybe I’ll at least get a temporary nest.
But he tilts his chin at it before turning to stride away. “Towels are in there.”
chapter
twenty-seven
I thought I liked silence.
But the fact that not one single sound has come from upstairs in three hours is making me crazy.
I’ve tried working out. Reading. I’ve even cleaned. And Damon helped.
Things around here are fucking grim.
I’ve read the same two pages eight times, and I can’t remember one single word. Damon left for a workout with his trainer an hour ago, and I’ve been sitting here ever since, pretending I’m not glancing up at the ceiling—and the omega suite—above me every ten seconds.
It doesn’t help that, for the first time in my adult life, I’m horny as hell.
I spent years trying to muster any sort of enthusiasm for sex with the random puck bunnies who threw themselves at me, and my Alpha never so much as glanced up. But now? Just knowing that Remi is here, inside the house, has me adjusting my sweats every three minutes.
Smith sighs from his place at the kitchen table, tapping at a spreadsheet on his iPad. “Cass,” he growls, pausing me. “Leave it.”
I curse him out under my breath, muttering my disagreement. He lowers the paper clutched in his left hand and pins me with a severe look.
“It’s her first night here. We asked her if she wanted dinner, and she said no. We asked her if she wanted anything, and she said no. You offered to stay with her, but she turned you down. Leave. It.”
But here’s the thing: these specific desires may be unprecedented, but the urgency isn’t new for me. I’ve felt this way before. Ten years ago. When I woke up to the patter of footsteps.
Something is pulling at me, tugging me toward the stairs. And I’m about 60 percent sure it’s more than some pathetic desire to see her face. Or the ache in my knot.
“Because you’re such an expert,” I snap back at him, ditching my book and rolling to my feet. “Fuck this. I’m going to check on her. You want to come?”
He starts to get up before he forces himself back down. “No,” he grinds out, almost like he’s scolding himself. “She’s fine, and you’re being ridiculous.”
I shrug. He might be right.
Except not really, because when I get upstairs, Remi’s suite is sealed up, and there’s no light under her door. It’s only eight—is she really asleep already?
She told me she hasn’t been sleeping well recently, so I doubt she could pass out this early in a new place. Still, I try to move silently while I close in on her door and try the handle. It’s locked.
My first thought is that she’s gone. Climbed down a tree like the flighty little ninja she’s always been. But my alpha instincts tell me she’s still close by.
Where would she go, if she’s not in her room?
I stomp down the hallway, even more agitated than I was moments before. Turning for the stairs, I almost miss the faint sound coming from the other end of the long upstairs landing.
It’s quiet, but the second I hone in on it, my instincts fly at me. My feet move without permission, bringing me to?—
My own room?
That’s where the noise is coming from. A soft, feminine voice. Singing.
Is that… ABBA?
