I roll my eyes. “Both of you, shut it. You’ll get your playdate, but I need to find Darius first.”
That’s when Pam steps into my path.
Almost every interaction I’ve had with this female since my heat has involved screaming, attempted face-scratching, or the phrase “he’s mine.” My wolf lifts her head, alert but not alarmed. Pam’s scent is different today. Less sharp. Less territorial. Her usual citrus tang is undercut with something sour.
Nerves.
“Blue,” she says. “Can we talk? Just for a minute.”
“About what?” I ask bluntly.
“I want to apologize. For how I’ve been acting.” She shifts her weight, eyes on the ground. “The stuff I said. The way I’ve beentreating you. It isn’t fair. I think I was jealous, and I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.”
She stands there, smelling like anxiety and something that might actually be guilt.
“Okay,” I say warily, wondering where this is going. “Thanks for saying that. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too.”
Pam nods. “Hey, if you’re not busy, do you want to help me with the soap?”
“The soap?” I ask.
She laughs, “Darius had me buy a few bottles of peach soap for you.”
I look at her face and see a female trying to make amends. And I think about how I was just on my way to forgive Darius for worse than anything Pam has done.
Refusing would make me a hypocrite.
“Sure. Lead the way.”
She walks me toward the edge of the compound, past the last cottages, toward the tree line, a small clearing just beyond the perimeter, sheltered by pines.
Pam’s scent turns slightly, and I stop walking.
Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe not everyone was out to get me, but my instincts have never failed me, and right now they’re saying:run. I’m about to turn away when a lone figure steps out from behind a tree.
The blood drains from my face as his features come into view. My hands go numb. My scent turns sour in a single breath, and my vision narrows until there’s nothing but him, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.
Stuart.
He’s not smiling this time. Not playing charming. His expression is flat and hard, and those dark eyes find mine with a directness that makes my stomach lurch. He’s not pretending to be friendly. He’s not here to catch up.
I spin toward Pam. She’s already backing away, pale, refusing to meet my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Pam whispers. “He said he just wanted to talk.”
She runs. Then it’s just me and Stuart and the pines.
“Moira.” He pushes off the tree. Takes a step toward me. “You’ve been hard to find.”
“It’s Blue now,” I tell him.
“You will always be Moira to me, the feral little omega.”
I take a step back, claws pushing through my fingertips. “Don’t come near me.”
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
“You’ve already done that. I have nothing left to say to you.” I step back toward the compound. My pulse hammers so hard I feel it in my throat, and my mind is racing through my self-defence training.