Page 57

"The night we shared," she says suddenly. "Was any of it real?"

The question stops me in my tracks. We're in a wider corridor now, with tall windows that let in moonlight, and I can see her face more clearly. There's vulnerability there, underneath all the hurt and defensive anger.

"Every second of it was real," I tell her, and my voice comes out rougher than I intended. "Every time I brought you water, every word I said to calm you down. It was all real, Belle."

"Then why does it feel like a lie now?"

"Because you're scared," I say simply. "And when you're scared, it's easier to believe that people are trying to hurt you than it is to believe they might actually care about you."

Her scent shifts again, becomes more complex. "You think you know me so well."

"I know that you've been hurt before. I know that trusting people is hard for you. And I know that what happened between us was real, even if you're trying to convince yourself it wasn't."

"Stop," she says, but there's less heat in it now.

"Stop what?"

"Stop seeing through me like that..." She trails off, shaking her head.

"Like what?"

"Like I matter," she whispers, so quietly I almost miss it.

The admission hits me harder than her anger did. "Belle, you do matter."

"To who? To you? To some alpha I met during a heat episode who probably thinks of me as just another omega in distress?"

"Is that really what you think?" I ask, stopping again and turning to face her fully. "That you're just another omega to me?"

"I don't know what to think anymore."

I study her face, taking in the exhaustion and confusion and lingering hurt. "Can I tell you something?"

She nods reluctantly.

"In my entire life, I have never spent three hours sitting with someone through a crisis without feeling like it was a duty or an obligation. But with you? Those three hours felt like the most important thing I'd ever done."

Her breath catches, and I can smell the way her scent sweetens slightly.

"When you fell asleep holding my hand," I continue, "I sat there for another hour just watching you breathe. Not because I had to, but because I couldn't bring myself to leave. Because for the first time in years, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be."

"Theo..."

"So no, Belle. You're not just another omega to me. You're not even close to just another omega to me."

She's quiet for a long moment, her hand tightening slightly on my arm. "But you still didn't tell me about the ball,” she says.

“No, I didn't."

"Why?" She asks.

I consider how to answer that without revealing too much. "Because I was afraid you'd run. I thought if you knew there might be expectations or complications, you'd disappear before I had a chance to see you again."

"So you decided to surprise me instead?"

"I decided to hope that when you saw me here, you'd be happy instead of terrified," I confess. If I tell her that Marcus had told us why he'd sent her an invitation before I even turned up at the library, and that we're the ones who organize the ball, she'll be running in the opposite direction in a matter of seconds.

"Well, that backfired," she says, but there's the faintest hint of amusement in her voice.