Page 102 of Daisy

"Nah. Three's a crowd, and I'm clearly the odd man out in this love fest," I say with a grin that probably looks more forced than charming.

But Daisy's head snaps up, something guilty flickering across her face. The look hits me right in the chest—I hate that I made her feel bad.

I'm out the door before anyone can argue.

The morning air is crisp and clean, but it doesn't help. She's in my system now. Under my skin. In my blood.

There's a pile of logs near the back of the cabin that need splitting. I grab the axe and get to work, using my frustration to fuel each swing. Physical work. Something I can control.

I lose myself in the rhythm, working out the restless energy that's been eating at me all week. Sweat builds despite the cool air, and I strip off my jacket, then my shirt. Let the cold bite at my skin. Wake me up. Clear my head.

Doesn't work.

"You're going to hurt yourself swinging that hard."

I spin around, axe still raised, and nearly drop it when I see her standing at the edge of the clearing. She's wearing black leggings and Gunner's hoodie and her dark hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. On her feet are the fluffy boots Dante picked up for her the last time he went out for supplies.

But it's the way she's looking at me that stops my heart. Her eyes are locked on my bare chest, pupils dilating as she takes in every inch of exposed skin,the scruff I've been too distracted to shave properly.I watch her tongue dart out to wet her lips, and her scent spikes so sharp and sweet it makes my knot threaten to swell right there.

"Princess." I lower the axe, hyperaware that I'm shirtless and sweating, that she's staring at me like she wants to lick every drop of moisture off my skin. "Didn't hear you come out."

Her scent is so embedded in my head that I didn't even catch it when she approached. How long has she been watching me?

"You were pretty focused." She moves closer, and I can actually smell her arousal now. Thick and musky and so fucking perfect my cock throbs against my jeans. Her eyes haven't left my torso, mapping every muscle, every line of ink. "Gunner sent me to check on you. Said you seemed...tense."

Tense.That's one way to put it.

"I'm fine." I turn back to the logs, but I can feel her watching me. "Just working out some... tension. You know how it is."

"Hawk."

Something in her voice makes me look at her again. She's closer now, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her dark eyes. Close enough to smell the way her scent is shifting, growing sweeter by the second.

"Are you avoiding me?"

The direct question catches me off guard. "What? No. Why would I?—"

"Because you've been different lately." She crosses her arms, and it pushes her breasts up against the soft fabric of Gunner's hoodie. I try not to stare, but fuck, she's swimming in it. Sleeves pushed up to her elbows. "Distant. Like you don't want to be around me."

"That's not—" I stop, run a hand through my hair. How do I explain this without sounding like a jealous asshole? "It's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it."

The challenge in her voice makes my cock twitch. When did she get so bold? When did she stop being the terrified omegawho flinched at shadows and start being this confident woman who demands answers?

"You want the truth?" The words come out rougher than I intend. "Watching you with them is killing me. And not in the fun way."

She blinks, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I mean watching you choose everyone but me. Watching you get comfortable with them while I'm still standing on the outside looking in." The admission tastes like failure. "It's torture. The good kind and the bad kind all rolled into one."

"You think I don't want you?"

The quiet question stops me cold.

"Do you?" I ask, and my voice comes out smaller than I want.

"Can I ask you something first?" She tilts her head, studying me with those dark eyes. "You and Gunner... are you like Cassian and August? Together, I mean?"