Page 43
My lips thin.
I rub my arm over my watery eyes, which still itch from the thick smoke that billowed into them from the burning overturned car.
Thank God I managed to pull the Beta from the wreckage before it burst into flames.
My hand trembles, as sudden flashes of the incident hit me like I am living through them again: the heavy weight of the car door that I was frightened I wouldn’t be able to wrench open in time, the sharp smell of gas, orange sparks, black smoke, and glowing hot metal.
Flames…Mom…Dad…Flames everywhere…Charlie…Nothing but flames.
I shake my head.
They are gone.
Mom, Dad, and my sister, Charlie, died. But I saved that Beta today.
She will be returning to her family, and now I am here in Cole House.
Also, I am no longer here alone. Angel is on the other side of this cedar door, waiting up for me like he always does.
I push open the door, before shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans with a grimace.
I don’t want my Alpha to fuss over me.
Angel is dedicated at the hospital to the point of being a workaholic. On top of that, he has spent every spare moment thinking about this Omega. He should relax when he is at home and not always need to care for me.
I take a deep breath of the familiar scent of old books, which line the Great Room along with faded pack photographs going back to the original founders in the 1880s.
The dark green shutters are closed against the night and rain. The only light comes from the roaring fire in the stone fireplace.
My expression softens when I see Angel in his usual place on the antique couch, which stands in front of the fireplace, with his feet curled underneath him.
He is dressed in a soft, deer onesie.
That’s my Angel.
His head is bent like I should have expected over his phone.
I only just hold back the laugh.
Angel and this new Omega don’t just text any longer, they write each other mini screenplays.
Although, I admit that I have been sending her longer voice notes than I intended.
There is something addictive about controlling Paige, while also meeting her needs and kinky little fantasies.
Has she been following my commands, or only pretending to?
My heart quickens at the thought of meeting Paige in a couple of days.
What is she like?
I am obsessed because I can’t work out whether I should read anything into something as simple as the way she types night.
I am not sure that I could sleep now without it.
It’s dangerous, especially as my rule about this heat is that we keep it professional.
Angel gives me a too-knowing look when he sees me reading Paige’s message each night.
