Page 203 of Awakened

There’s a solid ten seconds of straight silence followed by peals of laughter from the other side of the room. Cursing under my breath, I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on trying to salvage this interaction.

I can do this. I just need to try again. It’s cool. I’m cool. Everything’s cool.

Clearing my throat, I open my eyes and force myself to meet Idril’s startled gaze with my own.

“What I mean to say is, I’m sure you have tons of blankets and stuff in Caelan’s room, but I thought maybe you’d like some of your own, for other places in the castle. Like… in case you get cold. Or want something like… a blanket.”

I can physically feel my cheeks growing redder by the second. Worse—Idril’s just standing there. I suddenly notice how quiet it is, the entire room focused on our exchange.

Caelan and Soren have moved, both of them now standing behind their Omega. My Packmate’s aiming a straight-up terrifying glare my way, which is almost as unnerving as the creepy as fuck smirk the wolven can’t seem to wipe off his face.

Why do I get the feeling he knows something I don’t? The way he’s looking at me gives killer clown vibes, and I am not here for it.

Idril shifts and the movement reclaims my attention. I swear to the Fates I stop breathing as slowly, hesitantly, she extends a hand toward the blanket on top of the pile. When her hand makes contact with the faux-fur, delicate fingers burrowing into the fabric, I exhale in relief.

Gods, this is a thousand times worse than the most high-stakes mission I’ve ever been on.

I’m sure I look creepy as fuck watching her face as she smoothes her hand back and forth in the bedding, but I can’t help it. I need to know what she’s feeling—what she thinks.

Does she like it? I mean, she has to like it, right? It’s like… the softest blanket in the world. And she’s an Omega.

My brain falls prey to an endless cycle of intrusive thoughts until I’m second-guessing the blanket completely. Objectively, it’s perfect. The inside is lined with cashmere, the outside made from the softest, most lavish materials, created specifically for an Omega’s heightened senses.

The faux fur is a shimmering white, almost the same shade as her hair.

“I’ve never seen these before,” she murmurs, and I perk up.

“Ah… no. You wouldn’t have. I mean, they’re new. Like, new to the castle. Recently purchased. By me. Like… I bought them. All by myself. With my credit card. And had them delivered.”

I exhale and wipe the back of my hand across my forehead. Then, for reasons I will never, ever, fucking understand, I add, “They came FedEx. Weekend delivery.”

They.

Came.

Fedex.

Weekend fucking delivery??

Silence. Then my Alpha mutters, Holy. Shit.

Dax, like the traitor he is, barks out a laugh and doesn’t even attempt to control himself. I glance back, craning my neck to look over my shoulder and pin him with a glare.

The clock keeps on ticking.

Mor-on. Mor-on. Mor-on. Mor-on.

I shoot to my feet and spin, facing the offensive piece of furniture and glaring at it with every ounce of pissed-off Alpha I can summon.

It ticks louder.

“For the Fate’s sake!” I throw up my arms, officially convinced this is actually a nightmare. “Will someone, for the love of the gods, please throw that fucking clock away?”

Startled by my outburst, Idril’s mouth parts as she flicks her eyes toward the clock and frowns. “What’s wrong with the clock?”

“It’s… Uhm…”

To absolutely no one’s shock, I flounder, frantically searching for literally any answer to her question.