Chapter Eleven

Sam couldn’t get enough of Tracy. She looked better, again. During her time at the group home, stress had carved lines into her face. She gave so much of herself and took nothing for herself.

She might not like it, but she did better with an alpha around.

Or three of us.

The color on her cheeks and some of the fire back in her eyes suited her well. Her wild red hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and some part of Sam that had never really grown up wanted to yank it softly until she paid attention to him.

Still, something sat on her. It had been there all morning, and Sam didn’t need her to say a thing for him to recognize what it was.

She carried Mason’s scent.

The two must have gotten close the night before, because, despite a strong clinging of soap, he could smell the other alpha beneath it.

That explains why she won’t look me in the eye, doesn’t it?

Mason and Dylan had gotten the job of watching Karen on her new bike, the one which had arrived that morning, though Sam wasn’t sure which of the alphas had ordered it. Karen managed to wrap them around her finger as easily as Tracy did.

It left Sam and Tracy alone, and the omega didn’t seem comfortable with that, not given the way she’d avoided meeting his eyes all morning.

“It’s okay,” Sam said.

Her gaze darted to him. “What?”

“You slept with Mason, right?”

Shame washed over her pretty features first, trailing fear and guilt after it. At least the fear didn’t last that long. “How can you…” She chewed at her bottom lip and sighed. “You can smell him, can’t you?”

Sam nodded.

Her lip trembled. “I’m sorry, Sam, I shouldn’t have. You’ve done so much for me, are letting me live at your home, and I betrayed you—” Her spiral into tears happened so fast it surprised even him.

“Woah, honey, hold on a minute.” He caught her hand to try to get her to take a breath and a break from her little meltdown. “I’m not mad.”

“Only because you’re too nice to be mad.”

That had him smiling. “No, that’s not why. Mason’s like a brother to me, and it’s hard to blame you for getting pulled in. I’ve seen enough alphas and omegas who stay together falling into this sort of thing.” He squeezed her hand, then sat back to not crowd her. He might understand, but he still needed a few answers from her. “I want to figure out what you’re thinking, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam fidgeted in the seat, both to relieve tightness in his back and to help with how much he didn’t want to ask what he was about to ask. He’d been down that road before, had seen it go badly. Was he really thinking about trying it again? But, if he didn’t, would he lose her? Finally, he came right out and asked. “No matter what your answer is, you’ve got a place here, you and Karen. I need you to know that, first, to understand that nothing you decide changes that. Okay?”

She nodded.

“Now, I want to know if you’re feeling Mason and want me to back off. Maybe you fit with him better, maybe you and I were just a stress reaction, or hell, maybe it was guilt or just gratitude.” He needed to stop talking. The more he said, the more he let the doubts creep in and the more he regretted this whole conversation.

He needed to have it though. It wasn’t fair to Tracy to keep her in limbo, or to keep pushing if she’d settled on someone else.

And Sam wouldn’t have faulted her. Mason was a good man, and he had no doubts the other alpha would take care of her. Even thinking that made his chest hurt.

Tracy said nothing for a long while, her gaze not dropping either, both locked in a staring contest, as if they could figure things out in the other’s eyes. Her shoulders dropped. “I like you, Sam. It’s not guilt or gratitude.”

A relieved breath filled his lungs. That was a good first step, right? “Good. I mean, I’m glad that you like me.” He gave her a smile, thinking about how she’d looked at him in the shower, how she’d touched him. That was more than just mild like, wasn’t it?

Her cheeks flushed, and he knew she got exactly what he was hinting at. “I don’t know how it happened with Mason. We didn’t have sex, but we…” She couldn’t seem to get out the rest before moving on. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I was never like this before.”

“Did you ever stay with three unmated alphas before? Because that makes a difference. You can’t beat yourself up over a normal reaction.”

“How is being interested in two alphas normal?”

Just two? Where does that leave Dylan?

“My mom had two mates.” Sam thought about his fathers, about the two who had helped shape him into the alpha he’d become, who had guided him and could have given him no better role models in how to behave. “You know Claire has three mates, and so does Tiffany. It’s not nearly as uncommon as people like to think.”

Tracy pursed her lips before dragging her tongue over the full bottom one, wetting the rosy pink there. What is she thinking about? Given the way her scent had increased, he’d guess it wasn’t anything innocent. As quickly as the scent bloomed, it dissipated and she shook her head. “It’s not right.”

“Don’t say that to my mother or she’ll give you an earful.” He kept the playful tone in his voice, thinking of how much his mother would love Tracy. Plus, the woman had been clamoring for grandkids, and she’d dote on Karen like no other.

“I just mean, that’s fine for other omegas, maybe, regular ones, but not me. I’m not the sort of woman who could do that. I can hardly manage being around one man.” She sighed, setting her forearms on the table. “Besides, how can it be love if you’re wanting a bunch of people? That’s not love, then.”

“And you want love?”

The question was met with a tense silence, but a soft exhalation later, she nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

Sam drummed his fingers on the table, trying to decide how to address the issue. He thought back to his mother sitting him down and having a similar talk with him when someone from school had gone off about his mother being a whore because she had two mates. The kid had walked away with a broken nose and Sam had gotten suspended for a week. “You love Karen, right? If you had another kid, would you love the other less? Would you love Karen less?”

She shook her head, and the wheels behind her eyes moved.

“Then why do you think you can only love one mate?”

“It’s different.”

“Why? Because people say it’s different?”

She huffed a frustrated sound, the sound of a woman trying to make a point but being outmaneuvered. “So you’re fine with other alphas having me?”

And there it was. Preconceived notions were hard to fight, and Tracy had a hell of lot of them over this. Richard hadn’t valued her, so it seemed she carried that same fear forward, that if someone didn’t try to own something, they must not care about it. “You think that just because I don’t mind sharing you with Mason, I don’t value you? That the only way to treasure something is to hoard it? Trust me, honey, you matter a hell of a lot to me. Enough, in fact, that if you want Mason, I want you happy. I wouldn’t say that about just any alpha. I can’t say I’d react well to finding you in bed with just anyone, but Mason?” He had to admit, his friend’s scent clinging to Tracy turned him on. “I don’t mind that at all.”

“And I don’t get a say in any of this?”

“You get all the say. If you want me, I’m here. If you want him, he seems willing. If you want us both, that sounds good, too. The real question is what do you want?”

She turned her head toward a laugh so loud it echoed in through the open window. Mason had set up a small dirt jump for Karen in the garden, where Dylan was checking the straps of her helmet. The look on the girl’s face said Dylan had done so many times already, the worrier never happy with safety. Still, her laughter, the contentment held there made Sam’s chest tight. He’d always wanted family in that house, and for the first time, he had it.

The look on Tracy’s face said she wasn’t sold, and even though Sam had acted as though she was good with whatever she picked, if she didn’t pick him, if she didn’t pick them, she’d break his heart.

Everything rode on the decisions of one flighty omega.

* * * *

Dylan didn’t normally have trouble sleeping, but a certain omega and her frustratingly tempting scent had made it impossible.

All day he’d smelled her in every damned room of the house. There was no place safe from it, and thus from her. Even his bedroom seemed infected with the scent, and he was ready to douse himself in a cold shower to rid himself of the erection that had plagued him every step of the way.

He wouldn’t jerk off. That felt like ceding too much ground, like losing a battle. Instead, he ignored it.

As much good as that had done.

He rose from his bed, giving up. A glass of water, then an ice-cold shower. That was the plan.

The house appeared silent. Two a.m. was the time even the night-owl Mason normally slept, though. Dylan took it as a win, figuring he wasn’t good company with the mood he was in.

The more he tried to ignore Tracy, the more she wormed her way into his mind. It wasn’t just her scent, either. He liked her laugh, rare as it was. He liked the way she looked at her daughter, and the backbone she showed when it came to her. He liked…her, damn it. But he shouldn’t.

He knew where that bullshit headed, and he wasn’t looking to have his heart smashed apart again. Once was more than enough.

A rattle caught his attention when he reached the kitchen. The sound came from the den, and he frowned at the small cabinet tucked away beneath a bench seat. It ran the length of a row of large windows.

Dylan moved forward, steps light. He still doubted anyone would have broken in, and even if they’d managed to get past the security system, what sort of intruder would hide in a cabinet that small? More likely, some animal had gotten in.

Stay cats found their way anywhere, and Sam was soft-hearted enough to have probably been feeding them.

Dylan crouched on the balls of his feet before pulling open the door.

Inside wasn’t a cat, but instead the tightly curled body of a trembling Karen.

All that ice Dylan liked to use so he didn’t care, so people couldn’t fuck with him, cracked at the sight.

She lifted her head, gaze startled. When it landed on him, some of the fear eased from her eyes. Well, the startled fear eased, but not the bone-deep one that had driven her to try to hide in a cabinet.

“Can’t be too comfy in there, kid.” Dylan schooled his voice carefully. Snapping at Tracy wasn’t great, but even he wasn’t dick enough to snap at a kid.

Karen shifted on the blanket she’d set up in there. “It’s not so bad.”

Dylan could yank her out, but he had a feeling that wasn’t going to work too well. Instead, he tried for coaxing, despite that not being one of his skills. “Well, I’m going to get some ice cream, and I’d sneak you some, but Sam has this rule about not eating ice cream in the cabinets.”

Karen’s lips pressed together, and he got the sense she knew he was playing her. Still, ice cream proved too great a temptation, and she crawled out.

Within fifteen minutes, they sat outside, a bowl of ice cream in Karen’s lap and an obligatory bowl set on the side table by Dylan, untouched.

The girl ate half the bowl before she spoke, and that was fine by Dylan. Helping people, doing the whole emotional thing, that wasn’t his trick. If someone fucked with Karen, he’d step in. He’d happily skin anyone he needed to, break bones, bloody noses. If someone endangered her, that was where he excelled. Not this.

Even so, before long, Karen decided Dylan was the right one for the job. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“And cabinets are comfier? Because, while sleeping isn’t much of a problem for me, I’ve never tried crawling into the shelves.”

Karen slid her spoon across the melted ice cream at the bottom of her bowl, drawing designs in the mess. “I used to have a big dresser in my room, and sometimes I hid in the bottom of it.”

‘Sometimes’ being when her father had been on a rage was the obvious part of the story she didn’t need to say. The thought of that girl, even smaller, even younger, crawling into some dresser to hide had Dylan’s already shitty control of his temper slipping.

“Well, you’re safe as could be here. Sam has this place wired to hell, and between your mama and the three of us? Nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she whispered. “I don’t like being afraid.”

That’s when he saw it. It wasn’t just the fear. Fear came and went, it happened, but helplessness? That clung. The girl had been helpless her entire life, helpless to the temper of her father, helpless to protect her mother or herself. Sure, there was a security system and alphas around, but she wanted to feel safe, and at the end of the day, that feeling of safety only happened when a person could defend themselves.

Dylan recalled nights as a kid, never sure when his own father-figure would go off. He’d lie awake just waiting, waiting for his stepdad to find some reason to get mad, to take it out on Dylan. Yeah, he knew what that sort of stress did to a kid.

And, while his plan wasn’t something Sam or Mason would have done, they never really understood this. They couldn’t.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, taking his bowl in and dumping it in the sink before grabbing something out of his room. Once back outside, Karen staring at him with more than a little suspicion, Dylan held his hand out with the small piece of metal.

She didn’t reach, as though expecting a trap.

Dylan rolled the metal over, then used his other hand to pull out the blade from the pocketknife so it rested flat on his palm.

She recoiled, as though the blade might reach out and strike at her.

Still, Dylan didn’t stop. He pointed out the parts of the pocketknife, showed how to open it and close it again. The handle was small, and the blade was three and a half inches long, setting snuggly into the handle when closed.

Despite the blade being small, he’d always taken good care of it, and it was sharp enough to make a formidable weapon.

Dylan held his hand out and waited.

“My mom wouldn’t like it,” Karen whispered even though her gaze never wavered.

“She doesn’t need to know. This is about you, kid. You’re the one who has to sleep at night, right? And at the end of the day, you’re the one who has to look after yourself. Us, we’re here to help, but you gotta know you can handle shit all on your own, too.”

She wrapped her fingers around the handle and pulled it back toward her, eyes wide.

Good girl. Dylan pointed at the edge of the handle. “There’s a hook there that’ll let you tuck it into pants pockets. You want me to show you how to use it?”

Karen bit her bottom lip in a motion identical to her mother. After another breath, she nodded, fingers tightening around the handle and pure determination in those young eyes.

Dylan had to shove away the sensation of looking at himself, at remembering how it had felt to be little and vulnerable and knowing the only one he could really count on was himself. The lesson might have been a shitty one, but at the end of the day, it was true. It didn’t matter the friends someone gathered, the family, people had to know they could take care of themselves.

So he stood up, Karen following, and smiled at the girl.

She’d be a hellion when he was done teaching her. He’d make sure of it.

Tracy forced herself to remain still when she finally found Karen. The panic she’d had when she’d found the girl’s empty bed still forced her heart to race and sweat to rise above her eyebrow.

All the terrible thoughts swirled in her head. What if Karen had run away? What if one of those associates of Richard’s had found her? What if she’d been kidnapped?

She’d located her daughter on the back deck, Dylan there, too. It let her take a deep breath, at least until she watched them.

Dylan wrapped a hand around Karen’s mouth and pulled her against his front.

A rage that frightened even Tracy rose inside her, until she heard his voice.

“There’s not much to hit right now, right? Except you’re little, so use that to your advantage. Bring the knife down for a good swing and go for fatty areas. Thighs, stomach, anywhere the blade can sink in pretty far without hitting bone.”

Karen’s movements weren’t frantic. She brought her hand down, something tucked in her fist, and hit it against Dylan’s thigh in a controlled arc.

Dylan let out a laugh and released her, looking more relaxed than she’d seen before. In fact, a laugh from him seemed completely at odds with the alpha she’d come to know.

“Good job, kid. If you’d had the blade out, that would have been a good hit. Feel free to twist the blade, too, because that’ll tear the wound up even more.”

That was what was in Karen’s hand. A closed pocketknife. Did Dylan give my child a knife?

Tracy lost her battle to remain still and stepped fully onto the deck. “Karen, it’s time for you to go to bed.” She knew her voice was laced with anger, but she didn’t bother to hide it.

Karen didn’t shrink, didn’t cower. She curled her fingers around the metal like it was a lifejacket before offering a whispered thank you to Dylan and retreating.

She’d learned long before not to get involved in the arguments of adults.

Dylan turned, all the excitement and happiness melting off his face as though it had never been there at all. “If you’re here to bitch, it’s too fucking late to listen to that.”

Tracy slid the slider shut once she heard the click of Karen’s door. The girl’s room was on the other side of the house, meaning she wouldn’t be privy to the conversation that was about to occur. “Don’t you speak to me in that tone of voice when you’re the one out here manhandling my daughter.”

“Manhandling?” He huffed a mocking laugh. “You know damned well I was giving her a self-defense lesson, something she should have learned a long fucking time ago.”

“She doesn’t need self-defense, because protecting her is my job!”

“You try to tell her she doesn’t need it when you find her hiding in a goddamned cabinet at two in the morning!” Dylan’s voice raised to meet Tracy’s, neither fully yelling, but rather tossing vicious and angry whispers at one another.

The jab landed, and Tracy didn’t bother to hide the flinch. She still didn’t give in. “I may not have done the best job keeping her safe before, but that doesn’t mean it should be on her shoulders. She shouldn’t have to learn that, because by learning it, you’re telling her she isn’t safe.”

“She already doesn’t feel safe. You can’t put this back in the case, Red. That girl has already seen the hell this world can be. She’s lived it and trying to act like she’s some innocent kid now isn’t going to do a damned thing. She doesn’t need everyone acting like she’s fragile—she needs people telling her the world fucking sucks, and it’s dangerous, and she can handle every single bit of it that comes snarling her way.”

Tracy opened her mouth, ready to argue the point, but she found no argument. She wanted Karen to have a normal childhood. She wanted her to be ignorant of the dangers of the world, but that wasn’t the life they’d lived. Trying to give her now what she’d never gotten before maybe wasn’t the right way.

Even still, she couldn’t let Dylan win. That fear she’d had shifted to frustration with the alpha before her.

Maybe it wasn’t with him, but he seemed a safe place to put it. Sam was injured and had done too much for her. Mason was too damned easy going to lash out at. Dylan though? He liked to push her buttons, and no matter how mad he made her, she didn’t feel a speck of fear when putting all that frustration at his feet.

She pointed a finger at him, even poking it against his chest as she had the last time they’d argued. “I don’t need your help raising my daughter.”

Dylan dropped his gaze to the finger, then glared. “I think this isn’t about her at all. I think you just want this to end like last time.”

No. I won’t think about last time, about his thigh against me, or his strong hands, or his rough kiss.

She ignored the heat in her cheeks at the reminder. She also chose to ignore the tightening of her nipples and the rush of wetness in her cunt. His brash behavior should at least turn her off, right? The others were so careful with her, each in their own way, but Dylan wasn’t careful. He didn’t treat her like she was damaged.

“You think too much of yourself.”

He leaned down until his face was a breath from hers. “You shouldn’t try to lie to me. I can smell exactly how wet you are right now. What, is this some sort of foreplay to you? Come out here, yell at me some and hope I’ll get pissed enough to go for a repeat?”

Tracy said nothing back. What was there to say? The more he spoke to her, the more she felt the wetness of her panties, the more she thought he might be right.

And wasn’t that a depressing thought?

But there was something about the way he stared at her, those dark, lidded eyes devouring her. In the dimness of the porch, his expression was even hungrier, even more dangerous.

She waited for him to scold her for it, for him to laugh and go inside, to tell her yet again he had no interest in her.

“You think I’ll just give in and fuck you?” Dylan took another deep drag of her scent, savoring it, before his lips curled into something that wasn’t friendly enough to be a smile. “No argument? Good, because that’s exactly what I’m going to do, Red.”