Page 65 of Omega Hunted

“I know.”

Again.

By the time evening came, I was arguing with him under my breath often enough that Soren gave me amused glances between yawns.

“Your wolf?”

“He thinks he’s always right.”

“And is he?”

“Sometimes.”

Soren laughed softly, the sound warming something inside me that had been cold for too long.

When it was time for bed, he climbed into the nest with my help, shuffling blankets around until he was satisfied before looking up at me. There was a hesitation in his expression that hadn’t been there the night before.

“Cassian?”

“Yeah?”

“I…” His fingers twisted together in the blanket. “I liked you kissing me.” His cheeks flushed. “Not because I expected it,” he hurried on. “Or because I wanted more. I just…” He searched for the right words. “It was kind.”

My chest tightened. “Soren⁠—”

“You don’t have to do it again,” he added quickly. “I only wanted to say… thank you.”

Thank you.

Not I need you. Not kiss me again. Thank you.

I rested one hand lightly against his cheek and kissed his forehead. “Sleep,” I said quietly.

He closed his eyes for a second, leaning into my hand.

“I will once your wolf is in here with me,” he whispered.

I shifted, and my bones settled into the familiar shape of my wolf before I circled in the nest and nuzzled in beside him. Soren turned toward me, one arm finding its place around my neck as though he’d done it his whole life, and I lowered my head until my muzzle rested on his shoulder.

Within minutes, his breathing had slowed.

Mine followed.

Maybe the kiss had changed something.

Maybe it hadn’t.

All I knew was that I was lying beside Soren, feeling as if I was betraying Raff, and at the same time, not. It felt as though I was keeping a promise I’d made the day a terrified omega had stumbled onto my mountain—to keep him safe from whatever was in his nightmares. The first night, I’d left enough space for another person between us. By the third, Soren always rolled closer in his sleep. By the fifth, my tail usually ended up wrapped around his legs before dawn.

Ours to protect.

Mine.

The evenings settled into a rhythm that should have become ordinary but never quite did. We watched another episode of The Den, argued over whether Aldric was really a dragon, and shared soup and bread while snow piled higher against the windows. Afterward I helped Soren back to the nest, kissed his forehead the way I always did, and turned to leave.

“Cassian?”

I looked back, and he was sitting up among the blankets with one hand resting over Asha, his eyes fixed on me. “You always kiss my forehead.”