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Lincoln is working as an undercover agent with him right now. But at the same time, this is my best chance to find out the truth about Thomas and the Saints.
He’s being open.
I believe that he’s been secretly protecting Vito and me.
I’m not going to betray him.
As Seven, how many times did I call him a good guy?
If what he’s revealing now is true, then the sense that I felt Thomas was a prisoner as much as OG, the male Omega, may be right.
But what if he’s also working on our side as a rebel?
My heart speeds up because that thought is fucking exciting.
I nod.
Thomas gives me a searching look.
He must find what he was hoping to because he continues, “Recently, I’ve been trying to protect the whole town. But it’s hard because that knothead Richard has been guarding me and reporting everything back to Dad. It’s challenging to fight exploitation, while pretending to be part of it.”
The filing…how hard he works and never sleeps…the dark shadows underneath his eyes…the bruises…
When I kiss him, chaste and quick, he freezes. “I’m sorry, I…”
He stops my words by kissing me back, slow, deep, and perfect.
He tastes sweetly of sugared cookies.
For a long moment, we stare at each other.
“That’s what all your work has been about,” I say, as if my heart isn’t hammering in my chest after the best kiss in my fucking life.
Thomas looks as undone as I am.
“Some of it.” Thomas reaches to brush his thumb over my lips like he doesn’t realize that he’s doing it. My skin tingles. “The rest is Dad punishing me with paperwork for rebelling against him six months ago. It’s effective. Who wouldn’t take thumbscrews over data entry? He even had me stay up until midnight one week filing the entire pack’s digital documents.”
“The monster,” I gasp.
Thomas draws back, looking thoughtful.
I watch the way that his suit jacket falls open. He looks effortlessly elegant and in control, even now. My mouth becomes dry at how his white shirt is pulled taut across the hard muscles of his chest.
“I wonder what it is about becoming a parent that makes someone into a monster?” He says, quietly.
I understand him more than I wish I did.
“Power,” I reply. “The chance to be a tyrant in your own home. But what if they were a monster before we were born?”
When Thomas’ heavy gaze settles on me, I know that he hears the we in that sentence.
I want him to.
He clasps my hand, raising it to settle on his lap.
“Now that you know I’m a Saint, I may not be your first pick…or eleventh…or even your last…but I still don’t have someone for my rut.” Thomas raises our joined hands to briefly touch my fevered forehead, and his own brow creases with concern. “And fuck, you’re burning up. You must be dangerously close to tipping into heat. All our paperwork is ready to go. Remember that fun evening we had going over kinks, along with limits and consent? Plus, if waking up and going to sleep to each other’s messages for a month isn’t enough to make us friends, then…” He breaks off in frustration. “You feel like my friend.” And he feels like mine. “I know that you need me for this heat. Kick me and my gorgeous knot out of the bed afterward if you want.”
He preens on the gorgeous knot, puffing out his chest.
