Page 81 of Daisy

"Comforting."

"According to the guy who sold us this place, they're the type who keep to themselves. Should work out fine for us."

We walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes, our breath visible in small puffs. I can hear the others moving around inside—the quiet murmur of conversation, the clink of dishes being washed. Domestic sounds that still feel surreal after a lifetime of servants.

The suppressants are working, mostly. But being this close to Hawk, breathing in his scent, I can feel my body trying to respond. Warmth spreading through my core, the faintest hintof slick between my thighs. I know what I want, even if my brain is telling me to wait.

"So we're actually safe here?"

"Safe as I can make you," he says, and his voice loses that playful edge for a second. When Hawk gets serious, it's like watching a switch flip. His scent shifts too—caramel and leather going darker, more possessive. Makes my pulse jump and my core clench. "This place doesn't exist on any grid that matters. No cell towers, no main roads, just us and whatever's living in those trees."

"You know," Hawk says after we've walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, "if I had all the money in the world, I'd buy you a mansion. Like, stupidly big. Fifty rooms and a garden the size of Rhode Island."

I consider this, then shake my head. "Actually, mansions are cold. I've lived in them my whole life. This cabin is warm. It's just right."

Hawk grins like I just told him the best joke ever. "Look at you, little Goldilocks. Found yourself a cabin that's just right, complete with four alpha bears and one adorable beta bear."

The comparison makes me snort-laugh—my first real laugh in days. "Does that make you Papa Bear?"

"Heck no, I'm way too pretty to be Papa Bear," he says, striking a ridiculous pose. "I'm definitely the ruggedly handsome bear who teaches you questionable life skills."

"Like what?"

"Hot-wiring cars, for starters."

"You actually know how to do that?"

"Among other questionable skills, yeah." His expression shifts, getting more serious. The playful mask slips just enough for me to see something deeper underneath. "Can I ask you something that might make you uncomfortable?"

I brace myself. "Shoot."

"The laws about betas and omegas—I know what the books say. But what do you actually think? Deep down, do you buy into that nonsense about how they shouldn't mix?"

The question catches me off guard, but in a good way. I think about August—steady, gentle August who makes my heart flutter when he smiles. Who reads to me with that soft voice that makes me want to curl up against him. Who brings me tea and looks at me like I'm precious, not like a walking uterus with legs.

But I also think about what I've seen. Storm and Frankie, the way they looked at each other with such tenderness. And Harley—I caught glimpses of her in the garden with that beta guard, the way they smiled at each other when they thought no one was watching. It looked like love. Real love. And it broke my heart knowing it was considered illegal.

"I think the laws are completely ridiculous," I say, then immediately glance around like the Omega House matrons are going to appear and lecture me about proper language. Old habits. "August is... he's amazing. He's kind and smart and he makes me feel safe. Why should anyone care that he's beta and I'm omega?"

"Because the system needs omega baby-making machines paired with alpha sperm donors to keep churning out more omegas," Hawk says bluntly. "It's all about control and keeping the bloodlines 'pure.'" The way he says 'pure' like it tastes bad makes me like him even more.

"You sound like you've given this some thought."

"I've thought about a lot of things that are supposedly wrong." His eyes find mine, and I can smell his scent intensifying. "Like omegas actually getting to choose who they want to be with. Maybe they should be treated as more than breeding machines. Maybe choices should matter more than what's between your legs or in your DNA."

The passion in his voice, the way he's looking at me like I matter—like my thoughts matter—makes something warm settle in my chest. I can feel my body responding before my brain can stop it, and I catch the exact moment Hawk's nostrils flare.

He can smell my arousal. Even through the suppressants, he knows.

"Do you think things could actually change? The laws, I mean?"

"I think they have to," he says, dead serious now. His voice has gone rougher, and I can see the way his pupils have dilated slightly. "And I think people like you are going to be the ones to change them."

"Me?" I laugh, but it comes out shaky. "I'm nobody special. I'm just?—"

"You're a strong omega," Hawk cuts me off. "You think that doesn't mean something?"

Before I can figure out how to respond to that bombshell, he switches gears with typical Hawk smoothness.