Page 54 of Dissent (The Dissenter Saga #1)

I was paralyzed. I rarely saw Wes look so calm and relaxed.

Maybe at the Rock, but that was different.

There was a deadness about him that didn’t feel right, but this…

this was nothing like that. He looked peaceful.

And this look brought out something so…beautiful.

Like, he was actually beautiful to look at.

And handsome. Like his brother, he was incredibly gorgeous.

Jeez, get a grip! This wasn’t Chase, and he didn’t need me gawking at him. This was a bad idea. I decided against it and replaced the curtain.

“What do you want?”

I jumped as his familiar, husky voice snapped me to attention. I pulled the sheet back, my eyes greeted by his hazel ones.

“Uh…nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

He arched a brow. “Are all Telvians into staring at people while they sleep?”

My cheeks burned like an inferno. “I didn’t mean to. I was…I just didn’t want to wake you.”

His dubious stare penetrated me for a second before he closed his eyes again. “Well, you’ve seen me. Now you can leave,” his tone acidic.

Ouch.

I should have known this was a waste of time. I muttered an apology under my breath and turned around, replacing the curtain.

“Wait…”

I paused mid-step.

“Just…just hang on a sec. Come back,” he said.

It was my turn to raise a brow. I obediently pulled the curtain back again. “Yes?”

“Turn around.”

“What?”

“You heard me…turn around,” he repeated.

My lips parted in confusion, brows pinched. Blowing out a breath, I turned, facing away from him.

“What are those?”

“What?” I looked over my shoulder at him. “What are what?”

He lifted himself in the bed, leaning forward as he stared at me. “Those scars…”

Understanding snapped through me and I whirled around, reaching behind me to close the flaps of my gown. “They’re nothing.” He didn’t need to know about that. It wasn’t his business. I knew what it looked like back there—a landscape of shimmery, raised scar tissue.

Wes’s stoic expression slipped into place. “I assumed the First Daughter of Telvia would have been spared corporal punishment.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t count. I’m only half noble—a mutt , remember? The other half is Dissenter material.”

He was silent for a moment, his face calculating. “Did my brother know?”

My breath caught as the thought of Chase came to mind.

I remembered lying on the turf in the park, tears filling my eyes as Chase coaxed me to talk about it.

To share what Belinda would do to me, but I was always too scared to tell him.

“A little, but not much. I didn’t want him to…

to think less of me.” I pressed my lips together.

It was hard admitting this, admitting what I really felt.

“I…was afraid if he knew I was only half noble that he wouldn’t want me anymore.

That he would change his mind about me, and I…

I wanted so badly for someone to want me.

” I closed my eyes, willing myself to be real with him, pushing against the fear screaming within.

“I was afraid that if he knew how my parents treated me, that he would treat me that way, too.” There it was. I admitted it.

Chase had only ever been good to me and had only ever told me I deserved better.

But I knew he didn’t know the entire story.

That I was a bastard child, only half noble and half subclass.

That I was a disappointment. That, despite being the First Daughter of Telvia, I had no rights to any of my family’s wealth because of who I truly was.

And I was scared he’d back out…or worse, that I would be matched to him and discover that the hands that caressed my face would draw blood from me as well.

After all, if my own parents treated me that way, why wouldn’t he when he discovered what I really was.

“I’m sorry.”

Wes’s voice caught me by surprise, bringing me back into the present. And when his words finally registered in my mind, my jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

He looked away from me briefly before returning his gaze with a deep breath. “I said I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been such an ass.”

“Oh,” my eyes widened, and then I cleared my throat, trying to brush off my surprise. “It’s fine.” My fingers found their way to my pendant, running it back and forth slowly on the chain.

He shook his head. “No, it’s not.” He looked at me again, and this time, his eyes were softer, warmer.

The golden hues circling the black of his pupils glowed like liquid gold.

And just like that day in the gym, the day when I discovered his eyes were genuinely different from his brother’s, I found myself captivated. “You’re fiddling again.”

My fingers halted, still holding my little heart. “I beg your pardon?”

Eyes zeroing in on me, he cocked a brow with the tip of his head. “You’re fiddling,” he repeated. “You’re always playing with it.”

I blinked. He noticed? How often was I playing with it? “It’s just something I do sometimes when I’m…”

“Nervous,” he offered, though the way he said it wasn’t a question.

My lips parted as I angled my body away from him, feeling too exposed for comfort. “I was going to say when I’m thinking.”

A knowing smirk on his face caused faint echoes of my past to flutter. “Why did you want to come see me?”

“Oh…well, I wanted to make sure you were okay. And, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry about everything that happened that night.”

His brows knitted together in confusion. “Why? You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I do. I’m not stupid, and I know it’s my fault that you got shot and that Chelsea is gone. And I’m just…just sorry.”

He studied me for a moment, but I couldn’t read him at all. He looked away then. “You don’t have to be sorry. I didn’t want you there, but how all that shit went down wasn’t your fault.”

I was stunned. This was not how I expected this conversation to go. Just a few days ago, while he was bleeding out everywhere, it seemed he had stated the exact opposite. I opened my mouth to say as much, but faltered. Noticing my inner turmoil, Wes smiled.

Nothing big, just a pull at the corner of his lips, drawing them up into a crooked grin.

And my god, when he did that, I felt my knees weaken.

Because it turned out, when Wes didn’t look like he was about to destroy the planet with amazing badassery, he looked like an angel sent down from the heavens—absolutely breathtaking. Or, as Edith would say, sexy as hell .

“You can close your mouth any time now.”

My cheeks burned, and now I was officially embarrassed and ready to crawl under a table and die. My mouth snapped shut, leaving me to scramble for an excuse about why I looked like an idiot. “I’m sorry, it’s just I’m confused. Last time I saw you, you said—”

“I know what I said,” the smirk disappeared, and a pained expression replaced it. “You shouldn’t have been there. It was dangerous, and you’re not sufficiently trained to be on a mission like that.”

I nodded, agreeing with all that, but I thought… “You said that it was my fault Chelsea was caught.”

His face did the most unusual thing. Eyes glowing a brilliant amber, he frowned in a way that made it look like…like maybe he felt bad? “Is that what you think I meant?”

Was this a trap? A joke? I rubbed my lips together, unsure. This felt like completely new territory with Wes, and I didn’t trust myself to say more than one word. “Yes.”

That frown deepened, his eyes darkening as he tipped his chin to his test. “That’s not what I meant.” He looked back up, face strained. “It wasn’t your fault Chelsea was caught.”

“What did you mean then?”

Glistening jewels of citrine—that’s what his eyes reminded me of. And they were a storm—a hurricane of conflicting emotions so deep and endless—I swore I would lose myself if I stared too long.

“Not that,” he finally said. He sighed, looking away as though he was searching for answers somewhere, before he decided on something.

He didn’t look at me when he began talking, but his posture slumped slightly, like he was finally giving into something.

“Look, I’ve been an ass to you the whole time you’ve been here.

And it’s not fair to you, so I’m sorry about that.

” He gave a sardonic snicker. “I was never the charismatic one, you know? Or the diplomatic one, for that matter. I was never as good as he was.”

I froze. I didn’t need him to clarify. I knew exactly who he was talking about, and I remained silent, afraid to move an inch.

For the second time in our entire collection of interactions together, we were having a legit conversation.

And for the second time, Wes was opening up to me, and I didn’t want to ruin it this time.

“My father loved him. We were identical, but our personalities were completely different. He was always the golden kid—the one that had the good grades and excelled at everything he did. And I…I guess I was just the backup.”

He shook his head, never looking at me while he laid back on the bed.

“All my dad ever talked about was how my brother was destined to do great things. He was the apple of his eye. ” The words dripped with sarcasm.

“And when he died, it was hard. I lost him—and I loved my brother—but when he died, there was a part of me that thought things would change. That people would stop comparing us all the time, measuring me against him.”

He went silent for a moment, lost in thought, before finally continuing, “I was wrong, though.” He shook his head, blowing out a breath before looking at me again. “I needed something to take my anger out on, I guess. And it’s not fair that I took it out on you.”

Ho-ly hell.

Now, if this wasn’t a miracle, I didn’t know what was.

Because it turned out, Wes was like an actual human inside all that tight muscle and scowling face.

He was not only a human with actual feelings, but he came complete with family drama and insecurities and the whole nine yards!

And, if all that wasn’t enough, it turned out that I understood him.

I knew what it was like to have an older sibling whom everyone loved and adored.

An older sibling whom you were measured up against and somehow always fell short.

An older sibling that you loved with all your heart but couldn’t help but feel jealous of.

I got it. I knew exactly how he felt. And suddenly, Wes made so much more sense to me. Because, in so many ways, Wes was me.

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

I could kick myself. Here was this guy, with all his tough guy machismo, showing me he was really just a broken boy. And I couldn’t even figure out the best way to respond. So, I settled for the truth.

“I get it.” I watched him closely. Though his face was turned toward the ground, his eyes lifted, meeting mine, but he stayed silent.

So I went a step further. “It was the same thing for me at home. My brother is the golden kid in my house too, and I never felt like anything I did could compare to him.” I looked down at my fingers as I played with my cuticles.

“My stepmom loves Jacob. He’s everything she and Raúl could want.

But I”—my voice caught—“I’m the disappointment.

No matter how hard I try, nothing I do satisfies them, and I always end up just making everyone upset at me.

” I blinked, feeling the sting in the back of my throat.

I refused to cry here. Not today, not now.

“I’m sorry.” His words caught me by surprise yet again, and I looked up to see his expression soften once more on his face.

And at that moment, he looked…compassionate.

He cleared his throat quietly, and the look was gone, replaced by a neutral, unreadable expression.

“It seems you and I have a lot more in common than anyone thought.”

I smiled, tilting my head slightly. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

He stared at me then, different emotions flickering across his eyes before he blinked and they all disappeared. “Mara, I—”

“Miss de la Puente, I told you to stay put.” Doc’s voice boomed into the space. A quick glance around the curtain showed me he was marching his way through the tent, and he was not in a good mood.

I turned back to Wes, offering him a quick smile and waved. “I have to go. I hope you feel better.”

He gave me one nod, watching me closely as I turned to leave before saying my name once more.

I paused mid-step, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Yeah?”

With parted lips, he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He closed his mouth, took a deep breath, and then spoke softly, “Happy birthday.”

Lightness swept through me, bringing a smile to my lips.

I nodded, not knowing what else to do, and then left to face an angry Doc.

But as the curtain fell back in place, and I was forced to sit on the exam table, Doc poking and twisting my ankle as he rattled on and on about how nobody follows the rules anymore, my mind kept replaying my interaction with Wes over and over again.

And one thing kept giving me pause—how did Wes know it was my birthday?