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My gaze is locked on her mouth, eyes tracing the slow sweep of her tongue as she licks butter off her bottom lip. She chews slowly, like she wants to make the moment last.

Surely I’m not the only one ensuring she’s fed, am I?

Before I can spiral down that rabbit hole, Idril sighs in satisfaction and my eyes snap back to hers. I watch the way her lashes flutter, casting shadows across the tops of her cheekbones.

Who has eyelashes that long?

A shining curl of silver hair catches on the side of her mouth. She pushes it back with a delicate flick of her fingers, only for it to fall again, catching on the soft curve of her cheek.

Her thick, wavy hair is the sort of beautiful you only see in old oil paintings of fairytale princesses… or elven queens.

And Fates help me, I still can’t look away. She’s so beautiful. So godsdamned perfect that it hurts to look at her.

No wonder Caelan got so distracted. No wonder he got caught.

Caelan.

The thought hits me like a blast of cold water and I grunt audibly. The Omega glances up at me with curiosity shining in her eyes.

And because I’m a complete asshole who doesn’t know what the hell is happening inside my own mind and can’t get my shit together, I sneer at her.

What the fuck am I doing?

Of all people, what the hell is it about her that has me acting like an idiot? Ever since we brought her here, it’s like I’m caught between my instincts and shame so thick I can barely breathe.

I yank my gaze away, jaw clenched, blood boiling in my veins.

Why the hell can’t I get this girl out of my damn head? She’s a liar. She manipulated my packmate. She’s the reason I was up at four in the morning, trudging across the grounds and into the compound to sit by Caelan’s bedside for hours just to watch him breathe.

A growl slips out, and Idril jolts, dropping a piece of fruit. It falls to the plate, bounces once, and tumbles to the floor.

With a sigh, I lean over to pick it up, and as I do, I realize she’s frozen still. She’s barely even breathing. Her hands start to tremble, eyes glued to my face. Watching, waiting.

For what?

My gaze flicks up to hers. The naked fear staring back at me makes my stomach clench. She thinks I’m about to punish her.

She’s waiting for me to attack her. Again.

That realization makes something dark and painful slither through my ribs. What is it about me that makes her always on edge, thinking I’m going to physically hurt her?

I don’t know why I care. In fact, I should revel in the fear pulsing off of her in waves, shouldn’t I? I mean, I’ve certainly never given her a reason to believe I wouldn’t be a jackass over something as small as dropped food.

And the whole point is to push her until she breaks and gives us some damn answers. Push her until she finally admits to working with her father and hopefully provides us with intel that will lead us to the missing Omegas.

The missing Omegas that, despite spending fucking hours searching for, we’re no closer to finding.

The issue, though, is that I’m pretty sure my Alpha will lose his damn mind if I actually do something to hurt her on purpose.

It’s honestly inconvenient as fuck.

Slowly, I bend over in my chair, being sure to exaggerate each of my movements. Hopefully, broadcasting to her instincts that I’m not currently a threat.

“Just going to grab this, alright?” My voice is huskier than normal.

I wait for her nod, quick and frantic, before I pluck the grape from under my chair. My gaze catches on her slender legs encased in form-fitting leggings and trails lower, to her feet.

What the fuck? She’s not wearing socks. Or shoes.