9. Silver

nine

Silver

Three years and two weeks ago.

Three nights before the Omega Meet

O nyx yelled at me tonight. She said she's tired. Onyx said she's sick of my bitchy behaviour. She said that I should try harder. My twin will never know how much she sounded like our mother in that moment or how much that hurt.

I can't tell her anything. She would never believe me.

So, I stay silent. And I play the part of the narcissistic twin. Because, that way, she hates me. That way, she doesn't ask why. And she never really looks at me.

Present Day

I keep expecting someone to come to me and say, ‘Look, Silver, enough's enough, you need to leave', but no one ever does. For three weeks, they let me heal. Ian, despite his gruffness, keeps bringing me food. Every time I turn around, he's dropped biscuits, a plate of snacks, candy, or chocolate beside me. There are no words, just the silent actions of an alpha whose eyes are transforming from arctic to confused.

I glance sideways at the slice of mud cake he's just deposited.

West has been my almost constant companion. He eyes the cake now, and then picks up the fork. I watch him, trying not to smile as he cuts off a bit and picks it up.

"Try this," he murmurs.

I hesitate, but he brings the fork to my mouth, smiling in a way that I'm becoming smitten by. I open my mouth and moan as the rich taste floods my mouth.

"Oh, god, this is good."

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?"

I glance at West and find him staring at me with intense, hungry eyes. My cheeks burn, and I glance down. There's no mistaking the look on his face. I've been seeing it more and more often with them, but I've been trying to ignore it.

He gets another bit of cake and holds it up to me. I whimper and open my mouth, taking the morsel that has been rendered tasteless by the look in his eyes.

West inhales sharply and reaches out, brushing my lip. I watch with growing heat as he puts his thumb in his mouth, finally freeing me of his intense stare when he closes his eyes and moans.

It's worse.

Quint smacks the back of West's head, startling both of us. I lean back in my seat, and then, as soon as I think I can, I stand up. I get to my feet and stagger away from both of them.

I pause, go back, grab the cake, and then leave them both wrestling on the floor. It's a common occurrence to find them rolling around tussling, but after the first few times where they end up laughing, I stopped being alarmed.

I find my way to the back porch. It's a vast space with a large area under cover. The wood is varnished, and there's a lounge and chairs and a swing. But it's on the steps that I always find Ross.

"Why didn't you become a famous musician?" I say and sit beside him. "You could have. You're brilliant."

Ross looks up at me and smiles. His smile should be bottled and sold as sunshine. It makes you feel warm and cared for. Like you're important.

"Ah, but I didn't want fame, Silver. I just wanted to create songs. Write them."

"So, you sell your songs?"

Ross shrugs. "Sometimes. Sometimes I play the songs at pubs. Sometimes I keep them for me."

I sigh and sit down next to him. "Do you want some cake?"

He shakes his head and starts playing a song that requires him to move his fingers at lightning speed. I've discovered there is something so arousing about watching him play the guitar. It just gets me hot under the collar. Is it because when he plays music, the connection between us comes to life? Is it because when he plays, he gets this sleepy-lidded look as he looks between his guitar and me?

Perhaps it's because, though I fight it, it's getting harder and harder to hide the feelings that are growing inside me.

He slows the melody down, and then abruptly stops and sets his guitar down. He slides closer to me so our thighs are touching.

My stomach spikes with nerves, and my heart races. This feeling, like I've jumped off a cliff and am falling endlessly and I'm not unhappy about it, it's addictive. The strength of the thrill of these intense moments is becoming my own personal drug. All I want to do is smile in their presence. The affection that is growing. More than affection. Trust, respect, feelings I don't want to name.

"Do you remember when we first met?"

I stiffen and nod.

"I was so nervous."

I jerk my head towards him, my mouth parted. Of all the words I thought I'd hear from him, that's not even on the list. "You were?"

"Of course, I was. You were, no, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

I stiffen. "Your omega-"

"Do you know that my mother was sick?" he cuts me off and looks out at the garden. "Like, really sick. The kind of sick that lasts forever. The kind that sees her making choices with no thought to how it would hurt others."

I stare at him.

"We didn't know at the time. But she was quite ill. She would be so loving, and everything would be good and wonderful. My mother loved the finer things. She liked expensive gifts. She was fun, affectionate, and happy. And then, like a switch was flicked, she would just change. She would scream and get drunk, she would bring home men, terrifying men. Men with fists that put holes in walls, men who used drugs, men who beat her. My mother would cry and rage, oh, her anger was terrifying, even more so than the strangers because she knew how to hurt us the best. Mum would lash out with cutting words with her fists. She'd throw things. She'd threaten to hurt us or herself. And then in the next minute, she was sorry, begging and promising she would never do it again. I was an adult when she finally went and got the help she needed. By then, our relationship was in tatters."

"I'm so sorry."

"Your dad was bad, too, wasn't he?" Ross probes.

The abrupt question makes me stiffen and takes the golden light out of the sunshine.

"Yes, I mean he had all these expectations that I would find a pack to take care of the family. He was selfish and mean." I shift on the spot, uncomfortable. "I was just a thing to him. Something of value. Onyx had no value in his eyes. But our mother hated me. I was yet another reason why she was trapped to him. I was just another him. She told me once that if she didn't have me, she would have taken Onyx and left him. All of our suffering was on my shoulders."

I fall silent, remembering the way my mother would watch me whenever I walked into a room.

"I used to be jealous of Onyx. Because at least our mother loved her."

"Silver-"

"No, I'm not telling you so you feel sorry for me. I'm telling you so you understand I know what growing up in battlefield is like."

We're silent for a long minute.

"I need to tell you something that I haven't even told my pack." Ross reaches across, takes my hand in his, and holds it tight.

I twist until I can stare at his face. "Anything you say won't go anywhere. I promise I'll keep your secrets."

Ross smiles slightly. "I know. Brandy made me feel the way my mother used to make me feel when she was in an episode."

I flinch, then reach out and lay my hand on his. "I'm so sorry." My heart is beating fast, and my thoughts are racing. "But why haven't you told the others? They won't hate you. They'd understand."

"We don't talk about her or you," Ross says. "You have to understand, Silver, we all had potent feelings for you. I understand you didn't-"

I can't just leave him thinking I didn't care. It's so far from the truth it's not funny. I can't let him think that.

"I couldn't. There were things." I take a huge breath, stopping the verbal vomit that is rushing out. "Listen, I had some things going on. I liked you guys. It was the happiest I'd been in a long time. I felt amazing with you."

"But?"

I bite my bottom lip, tears welling in my eyes. "What do you want me to say, Ross? I'm a selfish omega. I-"

"Don't do that. I feel like I know you fairly well. Would you agree?" Ross says firmly, his hand tightening around mine.

I incline my head. Very reluctantly.

"You aren't selfish. Silver, you haven't asked for anything! You didn't complain at the refuge. Silver, you are a good person. I don't know who that person was that you changed into at the Omega Meet, but it wasn't you."

I flinch. Ross doesn't back off, though. In fact, he turns towards me and puts his other hand on my thigh.

"You know what it reminds me of? It reminds me of a mask. Like you were trying too hard to be something you weren't. Not with us, but with the others. With the flirting and chasing and wanting. That wasn't you. In your eyes, I saw desperation. I saw the pain that was in my mother's eyes."

I stand up, backing away from him.

Ross stands up and follows me. He snags my wrist and pulls me into his arms, wrapping me in safety.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Silver," Ross whispers in my ear. "You don't have to wear a mask. You don't have to pretend anymore."

My whole body trembles, shivers traveling up and down in a continuous circuit. But he doesn't let go. He just keeps holding me. Whispering that I'm safe. That nothing will happen.

At some point, even though my head screams that it's a lie, my heart starts to believe that maybe it's true. Maybe I am safe.