21. Amaya

21

AMAYA

T he vibes are gray. But like a lighter gray. And getting lighter by the minute as I soak up his presence beside me. Meer inches away is an alpha who basically just devoted himself to me. I could kick him to the curb, and he would still be here for me.

I believe him.

It's clear that Kate and Beckett vouch for him. I mean, they told him where I was for fuck’s sake, but it's also the look in my mate's eyes. There's nothing demeaning or vile about the way he looks at me, not like what the academy tried to teach him.

When I look at him, I see a man who has worked hard for the sureness and passion I see in his gaze. I have never looked into someone’s eyes and felt like I was seeing inside their soul. Vincent bared himself to me while kneeling on the dirty floor of the cafe. I don't know him, but I know his scent and it's mine .

A fourth mate.

One that doesn't look at me with disdain and hatred. Vincent looks at me like I'm more. More than an omega, more than the obvious exhaustion weighing my existence down and definitely more than my trauma.

He almost makes me believe that there's something beneath the touch-starved girl who doesn't want to be touched. Listening to his words, I want to believe that there's something beneath the omega who flinches and cowers away from stupid things.

And maybe it is true. I am more than my issues, but the thing is, there are so many triggers beyond what I've already found. Who's to say I'll ever understand what else I am if the well of PTSD and insecurities is deeper than I thought. I can only hold my breath for so long.

Since seeing Samuel, my breaths have become shallower, but sitting beside Vincent, I think I just might be able to dive deep enough and find the woman beneath the scar tissue. This alpha, the one with a scent I couldn't shake for the past year has breathed life back into me. Not a lot, and certainly not enough to keep me going. I have to do that myself. I am the only one who can keep myself from drowning.

I just need a reason, and I think this tattooed hunk reminded me I've had one all along. There's a woman beneath the scared little girl, who deserves a chance to see the light. She may be in dark, murky waters, but she's not stuck. I just have to find the path down and pull her up.

For the first time since being rescued, I think I know how to survive.

‘ Mate ,’ my omega swoons.

Well yes, but no, I scold gently. Us .

The only way to truly heal is to find a way for my omega and me to exist as one. I've spent so long suppressing and extinguishing her that it's going to take some work, but just this little breath of life has cleared my vision.

I want to live .

It's too soon. Right? It feels too soon.

"Have you thought about what you'll do with the spare rooms?"

I might be shaking. I thought this was a good idea. Hell, I even convinced myself that moving in alone would be a good idea. Except now the movers have left, same as Paul, and now Kate is reaching for her purse.

Oh, and not to mention, I invited Vincent over to come see the house too. I don't know if it was too soon to invite him over, mate or not. He's still a stranger, but now I don't think I can let him go.

Fuck, just the idea of Kate and Beckett leaving me here alone is making me tremble.

The cheese and meat platter on the kitchen island, courtesy of Paul, has been touched by everyone except me, and I think Vincent is starting to notice. His steady gaze on me makes me hot and nervous all at once.

"Uh no, I haven't really thought about it," I reply to Beckett.

He opens his mouth, his bright blue eyes twinkling a little too mischievously, but Kate stops him before he can say anything. "Nope, don't say a word, Beck. We're leaving before you make a crude joke."

"But it wouldn't be a joke," Beckett pouts.

Kate rolls her eyes and sweeps me into a hug before I can protest. I wrap my arms around her and sink into the embrace. Just for a moment, because soon I'm going to actually be alone in this five-bedroom mansion.

"Drive safe," I murmur and pull away.

She gives me a watery smile, stepping back. "Text me," she says. It almost sounds like a plea.

This time when I agree, I actually mean it. I truly enjoyed my day with her and Beckett and would love to do it again. If they want to. I know I'm not the greatest company. I'm actually surprised the three of them came to see the house with me.

Beckett doesn't approach me, thankfully, instead he salutes me with a wink and guides Kate out with a hand on her lower back. The click of the door closing behind them is loud, signaling the fact that Vincent and I are alone together for the first time. You know, only me and a stranger in a house I just moved into.

"Maya?"

I flinch. I can't help it. That's what they called me. My other mates. It's why I hate nicknames, except I kind of like it when Vincent calls me little mate.

I watch his eyebrows drop, knowing he definitely picked up on my weird energy. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I'm quick to deny, but he just stares at me, waiting. I sigh. "That's what they used to call me."

I know the look on his face well at this point. Anger and disappointment darken his features. It's the same way he looked at Paul all afternoon.

Unfortunately for my new mate, he heard my entire nasty explanation of my life. Christ, I'm still embarrassed about it. Had I known he or anyone was actively listening to my sorry story, I never would have told Kate and Beckett all my woes. Alas, Vincent heard all of it, and he's still here looking like he's about to rain down hell on the rest of what should have been our pack.

"Vince, it's okay. I'm okay, really," I try to soothe him.

I even think about touching his arm for comfort, but think better of it. He may know far too much about me already, but all I know about him is his name, where he's staying, and that he drives the sexiest fucking motorcycle.

By the time I had finished my story and met Vincent, we only had a couple minutes to chat as a group before Paul called to tell me it was time to head over.

The drive to this secluded little neighborhood just outside of the city was about a half hour with the downtown Baltimore traffic. As the car got further from the hustle and bustle of the crowds, I could feel the constant tightness in my chest loosen. The extra space between me and society makes me feel like I can be myself. But maybe not too much myself if Vincent's thunderous expression is anything to go by.

I had thought about inviting him to stay, but I have nightmares. I know I kept Paul up at night with them and I refuse to subject Vincent to anymore of my crazy. He deserves a good night’s sleep and maybe a nice memory of the first time we met. I've ruined our first meeting enough.

"Don't do that," Vincent whispers, stepping closer and holding my jaw with his large hand.

The backs of my eyes burn, but I yank on my omega with an inward glare. I just fucking decided that I wouldn't ruin his night, especially not with more goddamn tears. It's like all I can do lately is cry.

My tears dry, but I can't contain the crack in my voice. "Do what?"

His harsh, black eyebrows furrow above his intense blue eyes. "Pull away from me. Please."

My breath stutters out as my neck gives up, making my head hang. "I'm sorry."

"Don't do that either," he grumbles, confusing me like all men love to do. Snapping my head back up, I frown back at him. "Don't apologize to me. Ever."

My lips quirk of their own accord. "Even if someday you let me drive your motorcycle and I scratch it?"

"Not even then, little mate. You wanna know why? Because I'll remember this moment and smile thinking about the first time you spoke of our future."

The only response I have to give to that perfect reasoning is to blow out another shaky breath. This one isn't of defeat. No, this is a bit desire and a whole lot of damn .

My jaw lifts as his tucks, our breaths mingling and creating a yummy mixture of lemony lavender. His grip on me doubles, not only holding my neck but gripping my waist like he needs me.

"Amaya," he whispers hoarsely.

Fuck, I want to flip his hat off and test how his buzz cut feels on my bare skin. Would it scratch? Maybe tickle?

‘Mate! Mine! We mate!’

"Amaya." Vincent's voice is strained and I'm pretty sure his tone holds a warning.

I wonder what his growl would feel like between my thighs.

Okay. Wow. No.

I don't even know what's me and what's my omega anymore. All I know is my panties are fucking ruined, and I absolutely have to kick him out on this high note.

"I think—" I wet my lips. "I'm tired."

"Mhmm," he basically groans, his fingers flexing.

I barely hold in my gasp. "You have my number."

"And you will call me if you need or want anything." It's not a request, he's demanding it, and fuck if I shift my legs to find some friction.

"Mhmm," I mimic only to have his hand shift to my throat and squeeze a little. "Yes, yes I will."

"Good little mate."

Then, ever so slowly, Vincent leans in and places a scorching kiss to the corner of my mouth. In my mind, my omega does a little jig just as my pussy flips with her own demand.

"Good night, Amaya. I won’t be far, I swear it."

And to my utter shock, I tell him truthfully, "I know."

Feeling his hot touch release me is something I never want to experience again. The cold he leaves in his wake doesn't only make my limbs tremble, but my lip too. I fight the tears the entire time he walks to the front door, but as soon as it shuts behind him, I let them loose.

Please let him remember the sexual tension and not my trauma.