Chapter 20
The moment his eyes flash red, my stomach hits the floor.
Not figuratively–I swear it literally detaches, does a nosedive, and leaves me gasping for air. I can feel the heat of whispers behind me, the curious stares and hushed murmurs from the Omegas and Seraphina. Damn it. They’ve definitely seen something.
I grab Enoch’s wrist and tug him around the side of the building, putting as much distance between us and the peanut gallery as possible–his cock is an inch away from touching me and I know the whore within me wouldn’t be able to stop.
Ugh, just stop thinking Taryn,
“What the hell was that?” I hiss, shoving him into the shadowed corner.
He blinks down at me, his face blank, but his chest rises and falls like he’s just sprinted through a forest.
“Talk to me, Enoch.” I glance around nervously, the knot in my stomach tightening. “Do you–are you okay? What’s wrong with you?”
No answer. Just those green eyes, so wide and innocent that I almost believe I imagined the red. Almost
I slap my hands on either side of his face and force him to look at me. His skin is warm–too warm–and there’s a slight tremor in his muscles. “Breathe,” I say, my voice low and steady.
His nostrils flare as he takes a deep inhale, and for a second, I think we’re good. Crisis averted. But then he dips his head, burying his face in my neck, and I freeze.
“Enoch,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
He doesn’t answer–just breathes me in, his nose skimming my skin. A shiver runs down my spine as his hands settle on my hips, pulling me closer.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, trying not to lose my grip on reality. His closeness is overwhelming, his scent all- consuming–carthy and wild and distinctly him.
“Enoch, let go,” I say, though my voice betrays me, lacking the conviction I so desperately need right now.
Instead of letting go, he nuzzles further, his lips brushing the curve of my neck in a way that makes my breath hitch. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can feel it against his chest.
I’m not sure if I want to shove him away or pull him closer.
Finally, he pulls back, but not far. His lips are barely an inch from mine, his emerald eyes dark and hungry.
“Enoch,” I start, but the words catch in my throat when he leans in, his gaze flickering down to my lips.
I panic. No, no. no. I am not doing this with an amnesiac who has a child for a mind.
Before he can close the distance, I lift onto my toes and press a kiss to his forehead. “No,” I whisper, barely audible, before moving to his nose and planting another kiss there.
His hands tighten on my waist, but he doesn’t push.
This should suffice.
When I pull back, I catch the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “You’re okay,” I say firmly, ignoring the heat rushing to my cheeks. “But you need to calm the hell down. Whatever just happened, forget it.”
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Chapter 20
He stares at me for a moment longer before finally releasing me.
I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and give him a stern look. “Now go,” I say, pointing back toward the packhouse. “And don’t look at the carriage. Got it? Just go.”
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He hesitates, his gaze lingering on me like he’s memorizing every inch of my face. Then, with a reluctant nod, he turns and walks away, his shoulders tense.
I watch until he’s out of sight, my heart still pounding in my chest.
When I finally make it back to the carriage, I pause at the door, taking a moment to compose myself.
Holy shit,
Whatever that was, it can’t happen again.
***
The carriage finally starts moving, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Enoch’s face, that panic–stricken, almost feral expression, is still fresh in my mind. My skin feels hot where he buried his nose against my neck, and I press my fingers there like I can rub away the memory.
“Get a grip, Taryn,” I mutter under my breath, forcing my focus out the window.
The ride is bumpy as hell, but at least it’s quiet. No obsessive Lycan pinning me down with emerald eyes that can make me forget my own name.
Ugh, stupid hot shot.
When we finally pull up to the bustling market, the coach doesn’t even bother to open the door for me.
Not that I expected him to–being an Omega means everyone assumes I’m thrilled to fend for myself. With a sigh, I push open the heavy door, the chill outside biting at my exposed skin.
The market is chaos, as usual. Stalls crowd every possible inch of space, vendors shouting over one another to sell overpriced produce, and the smell of grilled meat wafting through the air like some cruel joke aimed at my empty stomach.
I grip the list Seraphina gave me and glance down, frowning. The damn thing is endless. She must’ve added half the mating ball décor aisle to it just to piss me off.
Snatching a basket, I weave through the crowd. The stares start almost immediately. Not subtle glances either–full–on, open gawking. My hands tighten on the basket, the thin metal biting into my palms. I can practically hear their whispers.
It’s the Imperial Pack warriors, I know it. It was because they chased us back then. It must have caused a rumor.
Word spreads fast in places like this, and people love a scandal. I can only imagine what they’re saying. Is that the girl who outran the warriors? The Omega? It’s written all over their faces.
Ignoring them, I shove the list into my pocket and focus on the task at hand. First stop, flowers. My fingers brush over some white lilies, soft and delicate, and I consider grabbing a bunch before Seraphina’s sharp voice rings in my head, whining about the wrong color scheme.
“Blue hydrangeas,” I mutter. “Because clearly, she’s not compensating for anything.”
The list doesn’t seem to end. Streamers, candles, specialty cloth napkins–who the hell uses cloth napkins anymo time I hit the electronics stall, I’m ready to chuck the basket at someone’s head.
Then I see it.
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Chapter 20
A camera. Old–school, with actual film. It’s tucked between a bunch of overpriced gadgets, like it doesn’t belong, and I can’t stop myself from picking it up. It’s heavier than I expected, its cool metal frame smooth under my fingers.
Enoch would love this.
The thought sneaks up on me, and I freeze for a second. He doesn’t even know what a camera is, probably, but something about this feels right. Like maybe, just maybe, it could help him hold on to something. Memories, even if they’re only snapshots.
Kind of ironic considering he can’t even remember/
I add it to the basket without thinking twice.
That’s when I feel it.
A prickle at the back of my neck.
It’s faint, like the barest brush of a hand, but enough to make me stiffen. I glance around, my eyes scanning the crowd.
There.
Not far from where I’m standing, half–hidden behind a stall selling knockoff jewelry, is him.
The stalker.
The same one from before.
My heart lurches, adrenaline spiking as I grip the basket tighter. He’s not looking directly at me–his gaze is fixed somewhere to the side–but his presence is enough to send warning bells clanging in my head.
For a split second, I consider walking away, pretending I didn’t see him. Of course, I don’t want to get in any more trouble again.
But something about the way he lingers, his body language screaming too casual, makes my blood boil.
No. Not this time.
I square my shoulders, abandon the rest of Seraphina’s stupid list, and start walking.
Toward him.
Because if this bastard thinks he can keep showing up like some shadow without consequences, he’s about to find out just how wrong he is.
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