Page 218 of Awakened

I’m shaking. I can’t tell if it's quiet, or if I just can’t hear anything over the high-pitched ringing in my ears. I can physically feel the blood drain from my face even as I hold Daxen’s gaze, too paralyzed with terror to look away.

Oh, gods! Stupid. Stupid, stupid! Why did I do that?

My Omega is losing her mind, shaking with horror. I almost let the fear take over. Fall into it and let it drown me. It’s what I know. It’s what’s familiar.

Alarms are screaming in my head, warning me to submit if I want to survive. Some kind of fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, and I get a dump of adrenaline.

The world blurs. My chest tightens painfully while I struggle to breathe. And I know… I know, I know, I know… I’m about to pass out. I’m about to pass out, and doing so will undermine everything I just said. I’ll lose whatever headway I made with the wolven, and⁠—

Stop.

Breathe.

The voice echoes through my mind. I swear it’s like I mentally gasp and latch on, sucking down lungfuls of air.

My eyes flutter shut.

The world quiets.

Breathe.

The voice hums a soothing tune—one I know, but don’t. There's a shift in the air, followed by a gentle caress as a tendril of wind brushes along my cheek. It twirls and twists, dancing through the strands of my hair in playful acknowledgment. The whole ordeal lasts only a moment, but it’s enough. Enough to calm down.

Enough to retake control.

It’s pure instinct that urges me to focus on the flame in my chest. The flame that has recently been calm and quiet.

Waiting.

At my call, the flame flares to life, sparking with anticipation.

I hesitate. I have genuinely no clue what to do now.

Okay. Think, Idril. What do you need?

I need to stand my ground. Not only do I need to be brave, but I need to not back down from Daxen. I need to have enough courage to advocate for myself.

It’s what I’ve wished for since I was a little girl, helpless against my Alpha father.

But I’m no longer a helpless little girl. I no longer lack power of my own. I might not have a clue as to what’s happening to me, but whatever this is—it’s power.

Even without it, I’m no longer fighting by myself. I’m no longer alone.

I’m no longer a powerless human Omega.

Not anymore.

I open my eyes, bracing for Daxen to snap. To demand I take back my accusations.

I won’t.

I’m prepared for his anger. I’m prepared for his rage. I’m prepared for him to snap back and say hurtful things, because that’s what Alphas do when they feel like they’re losing control.

I’m not prepared for his gaze to fall. To slide pointedly to the side.

I’m certainly not prepared when, with deliberate movements—like he wants to be sure everyone in attendance doesn’t misunderstand—he tilts his head to the side.

And Daxen Montclair bares his neck in submission. To me.