She choked on her own saliva and almost tripped over her own feet but at least they were outside and the cameras likely couldn’t hear what they were saying. The students passing on either side of the path, however …
Isobel glanced back at them wildly, but they seemed to be too busy trying to snap pictures of her and Spade—as he caught her elbow to steady her—to have been paying attention to what he said.
“I’m not even going to touch that,” she eventually said. “But thanks for the advice.”
“Anytime.” He kicked a rock out of his way, slowing his pace when she grew tired. “You’re inexperienced. You might misconstrue things.”
“I haven’t misconstrued anything. Theo told me why he was doing it.”
“Oh?” Spade seemed to smile a little. “Good for him.”
“Spade? This is weird.”
“Gabriel.”
“Yeah, I reckon he’s weird too.”
His smile twitched a little wider, but then he licked his lips, and it was gone in a flash. “Let’s be friends, Isobel. I want to keep an eye on you.”
“That’s a terrible reason to propose friendship with someone.”
“It’s not my only reason.” He slowed further and then turned suddenly to the right, forcing her to turn with him so that he wouldn’t collide with her shoulder. He steered her toward the edge of the lake, where there were fewer people, and then took a seat on the solitary bench overlooking the water, his gaze turned toward the dock that she was uncomfortably familiar with.
He tapped the bench beside him, and she sat, tucking her cold hands between her thighs and rolling her lips together, choosing to look anywhere except the dock.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked.
“Because you need to catch your breath. Your heart rate is too high. I can see your pulse jumping in your neck. Even with Theo’s … assistance, this is still your first night out of the hospital and you went immediately into a high-stress situation instead of the bond-soothing activity with several of your surrogates as Elijah had planned.”
“Okay.” She kicked her shoes, enjoying the brush of her soles against the wooden planks. “So what’s the other reason you want to be friends if it’s not just to keep an eye on me?”
“I have two best friends who share a single defining quality. They have sacrificed greatly for me. You exhibited the same quality. By my definition, we’re already close friends. I’m just making it known.”
She stopped kicking her legs, her brow furrowing. “Um … I don’t think I—”
He dropped his head to the side, suddenly giving her his full attention, and the sentence died on her lips.
“You have sacrificed,” he assured her. “Deliberately, though not mindfully.”
“Yes.” She studied his face, trying not to wither under that much attention. “I deliberately but not mindfully sacrifice myself for people all the time. It’s my thing.”
“You’re supposed to use a different tone of voice when expressing sarcasm.”
“Are you a dictionary?”
“Try a mocking intonation. If you forget to make it obvious in the moment, you could add a chuckle at the end.”
“Oh my god.” She gazed at him. “You’re malfunctioning.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. A blond strand of hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it back, patting the side of his head to make sure all the other strands were in place before he let his attention drift back to the lake. He stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankle, his arms wrapped over his chest, his hands tucked in on the opposite sides.
“It’s just a theory …” He lowered his voice until it was almost inaudible. “But I think you’re absorbing most of the side effects that we should be getting. I think it’s an extension of your Sigma power.”
“Sounds about right,” she muttered, not nearly as surprised as she should have been. “Did you feel it, when …？”
When they tore out my light.
She didn’t want to say it out loud, but Gabriel seemed to understand. His mouth immediately tightened, his arms bunching like he had suddenly formed fists.
“Yes,” he gritted quietly. “But nowhere near what you would have felt. That’s not normal. We should have been incapacitated like you. You took more than your fair share. If anyone suspected any of us were your mates before, that suspicion has now decreased dramatically. We should have been hospitalised right alongside you. Elijah thinks we’re sharing the Anchor side effects evenly amongst ourselves, spreading it thin. I think it’s more than that. I think we’re sharing it with you, and I think you’re taking more than us.”
She shivered, and he surveyed her slowly.
“Let’s go. You need to rest.” He stood, stretching out his neck to the left, and then the right, that same lock of hair falling out of place again. He tucked it back into line with an annoyed flick of his fingers and started to walk in the direction of her dorm, expecting her to follow.
Oscar sat on the very edge of the rooftop—one long leg hanging and the other notched on the stone edge—long after Gabriel returned home. Mikel came up to find him after checking on everyone else. He could be like an ill-tempered mother hen with a mauled face sometimes.
“Need a session?” Mikel asked, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes trained steadily on Oscar.
“Those aren’t for me,” Oscar shot back. “Remember the part where we get paid at the end of them?”
Mikel rolled his eyes. “I’d prefer you try to beat me up, rather than the alternative.”
“What alternative?” Oscar challenged, swinging back over the ledge, and walking toward the professor.
Mikel scrubbed a scarred hand over his face, obviously frustrated at not being able to speak his mind. The camera trained on them was too close, now that Oscar had approached him.
“You hurting someone else,” Mikel finally gritted out lowly, before turning on his heel and stalking back to the stairs. “Go to bed, Oscar.”
Alpha voice.
Oscar grunted, falling still as he fought off Mikel’s influence. It was heavy and solid, like iron. It took him a good few minutes and a deal of discomfort, but then he was free to do as he liked, shedding the heavy power that had tried to wrap around him.
And he quite liked the idea of hurting somebody.
A very particular somebody.
His tread was light, silent, as he prowled downstairs, opening the door to Theodore’s room. He reached the sleeping Alpha in a few easy strides, launching onto his torso and capturing his right hand. Oscar slammed the captured hand down onto the pillow beside Theodore’s head, whipping a tactical pen knife from his back pocket and extending the blade to rest against the fingers that still faintly carried Isobel’s scent.
The memory of sticky cherry syrup thick in the air had black spots dancing before his eyes, and he wrested for control over himself.
The Sigma was fucking his.
Theodore had woken up at some point, but had quickly stopped fighting, and now kept himself very still, his breathing measured, his eyes narrowed and watchful.
“Oscar.” He sounded miraculously calm, his voice raspy with sleep. “Didn’t realise you felt that way about her.”