“If Isobel was my mate, she would be wearing my mark all over her body,” Theodore drawled, tightening his arms around her.
She kept siphoning off Teak’s suspicion, one tiny drop at a time, hoping the other woman wouldn’t notice … but it was hard to concentrate because Theodore was once again proving himself a phenomenal actor. He had inserted just enough gravelly possession into his voice, twisting it with the right amount of torment and longing. And then he gave a small, self-aware laugh, making Teak blink at him. He was probably giving her a beautiful, perfect, heartbreaking smile. She was probably questioning everything she thought she knew about the world and falling under his spell just like everyone else did.
Her grip on the torch loosened, and she smiled back at him, mirroring whatever heartbreaking expression he wore, her eyes flitting over his face. “She’ll never forget what you’re doing for her.” She tried to console him gently. “What all of you are doing for her. Right, Isobel?”
Theodore brushed his cheek against Isobel’s, folding his legs and wrapping strong arms around her middle until she was lifted fully onto his lap. “But especially me, right, Isobel?” He nuzzled near her ear. “I’m your favourite, aren’t I?”
He was probably trying to remind Teak that there were four other Alphas all acting as surrogates, so Theodore couldn’t possibly be her mate. Apparently, a true mate couldn’t stand other people touching the person that belonged to them. But whatever his game was, it was short-circuiting her brain. She melted in his arms, the tremble easing from her limbs.
“You’re very good at that,” Teak noticed, watching Isobel turn into a puddle.
“But not good enough to be the real deal,” he returned with a forced casual tone, trying—and failing—to mask the hint of agony that rode his voice.
Jeez. Talk about laying it on thick.
And … Teak was eating it right up. She surreptitiously slid the torch away, her other hand twitching like she wanted to reach out to him. The woman was one big, bleeding heart. Isobel very carefully, very slowly slid her wall back up, cutting herself off from Teak before she could pass out.
“Um …” Isobel interrupted before they could devolve into sobbing and wiping each other’s tears. “Is there anything else, or would it be okay if I go now? I want to walk out of here while I can still walk.”
2
Sigma Sponge
Isobel wiped her sweaty hands on her shorts, staring at the door to Dorm A. Kilian had left clothes and toiletries in her hospital room—she knew it was him, because they carried his earthy bergamot and bark scent. After showering, washing her hair, and dressing in small cotton shorts and a long-sleeved sweatshirt, she felt much more like herself. Even if the sweatshirt was Kilian’s.
There was a light sheen of perspiration dotting her skin from the slow, easy walk to Dorm A, even though Theodore had ambled along beside her slower than she had ever seen him walk before. Whenever she tried to speed up, he had touched her elbow to slow her down again, completely ignoring the students who stopped in their tracks at the sight of them, phones whipping up to snap pictures. She didn’t catch any of their whispered words, but the Vermont attack—as Teak had put it—was probably big news. Bonded people were important to the Gifted, and Isobel had never even heard of a bond infraction or soul infraction before, let alone known of it happening in the time she had been alive. Granted, her only source of gossip had been the human news, and they didn’t particularly bother with what happened in the settlements, only what happened at Ironside.
Theodore looked down at her, not pushing her to enter the dorm. “Doing okay, Illy?”
She turned her head up to him, her lips curving, her smile tremulous. “Nope.”
His expression was drawn, his Alpha ring shrinking to a thin, gold line. He was holding back so much emotion and he was so good at it, but now that they were alone and there were no cameras watching, she could see the cracks. She could feel them, too. His energy was sneaking out like a whip to crack lightly against her skin. It was sharp, electric, and restless. She rarely felt Theodore’s power like a physical force, likely because he had spent his entire life trying to escape it.
“Say the word and I’ll take you back to your dorm instead,” he offered.
“I want to be alone for a while, but I don’t know … if I can.”
“Say the word and I’ll crash on the floor with you.”
“It’s a bed,” she defended.
“It’s a floor. With blankets.”
She scowled at him, and his attention snapped to her lips, the storm in his eyes darkening, roiling, as he watched her nose scrunch and her lip curl. Despite the intensity in his eyes, his smile threatened to appear.
“Isobel …” He rumbled out her name, the hint of his smile dropping away. He scrubbed both hands over his face, wiping away all traces of joy. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I know,” she said, kicking the toe of her sneaker against the rocky ground.
“For hiding it from you,” he pressed.
“I know.”
“It’s not enough.” He sounded frustrated. “You should slap me. Call me names. Never speak to me again. For a day,” he quickly tacked on.
She snorted. “Two days.”
“Day and a half.”
“A week,” she said. “Final offer.”
“You’re negotiating in the wrong direction.” He backed her into the door before she realised what was happening, his hands on her hips. His body was trembling suddenly, his eyes full of turmoil. “Don’t speak to me for thirty seconds.” His voice had lowered to something resembling a warning, something that begged her to back away … but he had her cornered.
And he was warm.
And he was Theodore.
She lifted her chin, accepting the challenge, and his eyes flitted to her lips again. A short groan tore its way out of his throat. “I should be giving you physical intimacy to help ease the bond,” he said.
He hadn’t stopped touching her since she woke up. She furrowed her brow, showing her confusion. Twenty-three seconds and counting. The grip around her hips pinched tighter, his expression suddenly torn.
“We can’t push it too far. In either direction.” He sounded so agonised, the words guttural. One of his hands released her hip to lift her chin, tilting her face up. She could feel his breath against her lips, choppy and harsh. “I’m going to help you get through your first night alone, okay?”
She had already forgotten that she was supposed to not be talking to him, but she didn’t have any words anyway. Her mouth was dry, her throat tight, her hands shaking. Her whole body was tingling in fear and anticipation. Fear, because Theodore was untouchable. He was the most approachable, the most personable, the one with all the friends, the one people gravitated toward and championed. But Isobel suspected it was all an act, and that would make him the opposite of all the things he pretended. It would mean she didn’t really know him at all.
He waited for something, his thumb brushing along her lower lip from one corner of her mouth to the other, dragging the flesh slightly as he increased the pressure.