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I don’t understand why. What does she think I mean? Or maybe she just doesn’t believe me. I can’t say I blame her.
So I try one more thing. “I can get you your own apartment, even,” I offer, repressing the way my entire body wants to cringe at the thought. “Anything you’d like.”
Serena’s emotions are a thorny tangle, but she bites her lower lip slowly, her face still carefully blank. “I—might like to stay. For now.”
Relief swamps me, and then doubles when I remember she can’t feel how enormously thankful I am. “Very well. I’ll leave the iPad for you to make your wardrobe and food selections. Jonah didn’t know what you’d like to eat, but he was worried you may be hungry, so he made you a sandwich. It’s here on the nightstand for you.”
When she bites her lip harder, I see that her teeth are relatively straight and white. Which strikes me as odd, given how poorly she was cared for in other ways.
Then again, her hair is perfect, too. Long and smooth. I’ve known enough women to know that there’s some sort of chemical straighter and shining lacquer on it. Her brows are neatly threaded; her nails are long, almond-shaped, glittering with nude polish.
And when Jonah shoved that bodysuit aside earlier, I couldn’t help but notice that she’s waxed perfectly smooth?—
Jesus, Alpha. Not now.
I force myself to focus, squinting at her in the dark.
What sort of situation would leave an omega underweight, nutrient-deficient, and riddled with healed injuries… with perfect hair and nails—and the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen?
Fucking hell—not now!
“Would you tell me…” I prompt, speaking through gritted teeth while I ignore my throbbing knot, “what happened to you?”
She huddles lower on the bed, looking so small and tired suddenly. The feelings that swirl through her are devastating, but her voice is so soft. “I’m sure you can guess.”
I don’t want to guess. I want to know.
Mostly so I can assure her that no matter what she did before or wants now, there’s no reason for the self-loathing swarming her stomach.
As I stare at her, trying to summon patience, the sick swell in her gut doubles, and a matching pulse of guilt fills me. There’s so much shame. Mine makes sense, but hers? I don’t understand it.
This omega looks like she’s wasting away. She needs to eat. And sleep more. If I keep pushing her, she may not be able to do either tonight.
“We can discuss it some other time,” I decide, stepping away. “I’ll leave you to rest.”
That nagging feeling of unnaturalness assails me. I don’t really want to leave her—but relief rolls through her half of our incomplete bond, so I turn to go.
“Tristan?”
Her quiet little voice says my name for the first time, and my heart clenches.
I look over my shoulder in time to catch her swallowing hard. One of her manicured hands floats up, tracing the mark I left in her neck. “Th-thank you. For letting me stay here.”
The words are daggers. They sink into my middle and twist. I’ve done nothing—nothing—to deserve this woman’s gratitude.
“Don’t thank me,” I order, unable to bear it. “Never thank me.”
chapter
twenty
Never thank me.
My Omega gives a quiet whine as Tristan’s words sink in. He’s long gone by then, the door to the beautiful guest room firmly shut.
He seemed pretty dang eager to get out of here.
I’d be more insulted if I weren’t still in this ridiculous bodysuit.
