The Gamma’s Second Chance (Crescent Lake #3)

24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

NOLAN

Cassandra lies on my bed, rolled onto her stomach with her face turned away from me, the blankets around her waist and her long, luscious hair fanning across her bare back. Her shoulders rise and fall softly with her slowing breaths, her body relaxed and sated for the moment. I lie on my side next to her, facing her, my chest pressed against her body. My fingers comb through the ends of her hair, playing with the gentle curls and teasing her soft skin with each pass of my hand.

My movements are slow and almost lazy, but my mind races, replaying Cassandra’s conversation with Ben. Her revelation makes so much of what she’s told me before today make sense, like finding the cipher to a secret code or realizing part of a message was written in invisible ink.

But with her revelation comes more questions, along with the realization that there is still so much about her I don’t know. She’s a mystery. A beautiful, compelling mystery, layered and complex, and waiting for me to discover her secrets.

My fingers pause their perusal of her body, and I lean over her, pressing my palm into her back. “Cassandra?”

She lifts her head an inch off the pillow. “Hmm?”

“I…” I swallow and drop my chin to my chest. My voice catches in my throat, and I shake my head. “Never mind.”

She turns her head to face me, her cheek still resting on the pillow. “What?”

I sigh and my fingers flex against her back, my jaw clenching for a moment as we stare at each other. “I just—I have some questions, but only if you’re up for them,” I finally say.

“I’m fine. I promise.”

I search her eyes and analyze her body language and her heart rate, checking for any sense of hesitation from her. Finding none, I ask what’s been bothering me the most since she told Benjamin her story. “Why did Pierce wait until after Haven’s adoption to have Gladys cast the curse?”

She inhales through her nose, and I tuck a section of her hair behind her ear, waiting for her to speak and answer my question, giving her the patience and the time she deserves to piece her thoughts together.

“Pierce’s last visit—the visit which resulted in my mother’s pregnancy—was when he stole Selene’s hair from the relic, which is what he used to finally find Haven. But it was several years before the adoption happened. Pierce wanted to have access to my mother should he still need to trick an oracle into helping him. Once the adoption happened, though, he had no more use for her. According to Gladys, he thought since my mom was only a werewolf, that the physical pain and emotional trauma caused by the curse would kill her. He thought she’d be unable to endure any of it. He never considered the possibility of her having a child or that child being a lycan.”

I cup her cheek with my hand and scoot closer to her. Her skin against mine works to calm the rage building inside me, the rage that’s been growing since our visit to Benjamin, and I hope my touch soothes her as well. “I can’t even imagine how awful it must have been for you and how awful it must be to endure the memories.”

Her shoulder lifts in a half-shrug. “Like I said, I’ve lived with this for sixteen years.”

“Cassandra…” My grip on her tightens and I shake my head. “That doesn’t mean it gets any easier. Remembering the pain, reliving those memories, and knowing you had the choice of having your own children stolen from you?”

I press our foreheads together and grit my teeth, holding in the growl threatening to escape me. I wish I could fix this for her, but I know I can’t. All I want to do is wrap her up and keep her close, protecting her for the rest of my days, so nothing will ever hurt her again.

And bring that bastard Pierce back from the dead so I can kill him all over again.

She twists and covers my hand with hers, leaning her chest against mine. “Sometimes I think it will. Get easier. Then I see a new doctor, and they run their tests and reconfirm that, yes, all my eggs are dead, and it’s like I’m understanding it for the first time again. Or some well-meaning but rather insensitive aging oracle will suggest I just ask the king for his best healer.” She scoffs and her muscles tighten. “As if a healer can fix what isn’t there to heal or bring things back from the dead. There is no magical solution. I gave up hope of that long ago.”

“Have you ever considered… what I mean is… what I’m trying to ask is whether children are something you still desire, even though you can’t have them yourself?”

Her brow furrows a little. “I’ve never really thought about other options. I resigned myself to being alone because…”

“Because who would want to be with someone who can’t give them the one thing almost all werewolves want most, other than a mate?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. But it’s too late. Cassandra flinches back and blinks up at me, and I press my thumb into her cheek to keep her gaze level with mine. “I didn’t mean me. I just—”

“I know.” She inhales—a deep, shaky breath—then rolls away and sits up, sliding off the far end of the mattress. Her back is to me, her hands gripping the edge, and her hair falling forward on either side of her face.

My hand curls into a fist in the warm, empty spot where her body was only seconds before. My wolf glares at it and me, and I already miss her nearness and her touch, and I hate myself for what I said. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Another deep breath from her, her entire body tensing and relaxing with the action. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore right now.”

“Then we won’t.”

It’s the opposite of what I want to do. The opposite of what my instincts tell me to do.

I want to fix this. I want to solve all her problems. But I know trauma isn’t so easily mended. It takes time, and it takes support from others, and sometimes that support is knowing when to let it be. Forcing her to open up when she doesn’t want to will do no good. It will only push her away.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she says, rising from the bed and strolling to the en suite bathroom door.

“Do you have everything you need?” She lifts a brow at me over her shoulder. “Just making sure so you don’t get water on the floor,” I say with a wink.

A small grin creeps onto her face, adding a touch of sparkle to her green eyes. It’s there and gone in a flash, but for a moment, she’s her usual smiling, bubbly self. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining the floors like that.”

I chuckle as she heads into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked open. The water runs, and I fall against the pillows, the heels of my hands digging into my eyes. The powerful urge to fix lingers within me, and it kills me that there isn’t anything I can do for her. It’s all I can think about, and I fear it will consume me.

Distraction. What I need is a distraction.

I hop from the bed and throw a pair of sweats on, then race downstairs to the kitchen. Our dishes from this morning are still on the table, abandoned in our rush to get out the door when Wesley arrived. I gather them up and bring them to the sink, hoping the simple task will keep me from spiraling too hard and too fast.

I scrub the dishes, ensuring no surface is left dirty, removing every bit of grime and food there may or may not be on them. The water is scalding hot, leaving my skin raw, but I clench my teeth and power through.

The mundane activity does nothing to take my mind off everything, though. Instead, the mindlessness causes things to fester further.

The mug in my hands tumbles into the sink, and I grip the edge, my chin against my chest. I count to ten, inhaling and exhaling, before I push off from the counter and charge back up the stairs and straight into the bedroom.

This is stupid. I need a distraction, yes, but I need to be with her more. We don’t need to talk about any of it, but my place is at her side.

I strip off my sweats as I walk to the bathroom, leaving them in a pile somewhere in the middle of my room. I nudge the door open and stand framed in the doorway, taking in the breathtaking sight before me.

Cassandra stands under the showerhead, her back to me. Steam billows around her, framing her gorgeous body and her subtle curves. Her damp hair hangs down her back, almost reaching the top of her butt. She lets the water flow down her neck and her chest, her chin tilted towards the ceiling, and her arms wrapped around her stomach. Her skin gleams from the water droplets, catching the light and scattering it across the bathroom. She does nothing, but she captures my attention and holds it in the palm of her hand.

I slip around the opening of the walk-in shower, sliding up behind her. I wrap my arms around her and hook my chin over her shoulder, lacing my fingers with hers as I bring my lips to her neck. A sigh of contentment escapes her, and she relaxes into my chest, bringing our bodies flush together. Skin against skin, I embrace her with all I have, savoring the feel of her in my arms and sending all my deep affection to her, even though she can’t feel it. Her fresh and pure daisy scent permeates my soul, and the kisses I give her tell her everything my words can’t.

Her face turns to mine and our lips meet in a kiss that’s slow and sweet and exactly what the two of us need right now. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand,” she says as she leans away to look up at me.

My nose brushes hers. “It’s fine.”

She shakes her head and spins in my arms, draping hers around my neck. “It’s not. I completely blindsided you. I—”

“Cassandra.” I cover her lips with my finger, putting a stop to her protests, and my arm winds around her waist. “It’s fine. I’m not mad. Shocked? Yes. Mad? No.”

“Are you sure?” she asks as my finger leaves her lips, and I grip her jaw, holding her face still.

I stroke her chin with my thumb, my gaze unwavering and my voice steady, becoming the strength she needs, being the indomitable rock in the storm of emotions raging within her. “You were protecting yourself and your family. I can understand and respect that.”

“I thought Alpha Benjamin should know first.”

I wet my lips and shake my head at her, yanking her tighter against my body. “I didn’t come in here to make you keep talking to me. I came in here so you didn’t have to be alone with your pain.”

Her green eyes shine with liquid, an echo of the water shining on our skin and falling in rivulets between us. I caress her body under the stream of steaming water, soothing away the lingering tension she holds in her muscles. The droplets cascading down her chest tempt me to lower my eyes and watch their path between and across her breasts, but I keep my eyes on hers instead.

This moment isn’t about satisfying my ever-growing need for her in a moment of speedy release. She needs me. She needs comfort and reassurance. And I’m the only one who can give that to her. I want to be the one she turns to whenever she’s in distress.

“Have you washed your hair yet?” I ask, my fingers playing with the ends of her long tresses.

“Not yet. I’ve just been standing in the hot water,” she admits, her eyes darting to the side.

I don’t judge her. I can’t judge her. There are countless times I have done the same, especially in those first few months after Kimberly rejected me, in the hopes the hot water would erase the stain on my soul or the memories from my brain.

“Would you like me to wash it for you?” I ask, tracing her spine with my fingertips.

She nods, her arms tightening around me a fraction. I slide my hand around her neck and tip her head higher with my thumb on her jaw until the water once again drenches her hair from the roots to the ends. Her eyes shut, and her palms glide down my chest, pressing against it to balance herself as she gives in to my manipulations of her body.

When her hair is thoroughly soaked, I spin her by her shoulders and grab her shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into my hands and lathering it between my palms. Her hair is soft underneath my hands even when wet, and I massage the suds into her scalp, applying gentle pressure everywhere with my fingertips.

With each circular motion of my fingers, Cassandra’s body releases more tension, until she’s as soft as warm clay. Her hands reach behind her and caress the sides of my ass and thighs, her neck and chest arching.

I hold in a groan at the way her breasts push forward, presenting themselves to my gaze, and focus instead on the sweet connection I feel from her soft touches on my legs as she seeks reassurance from my presence and our intimacy. I step closer, pursuing that deeper intimacy as well, searching for something stronger than the desperate need to claim and to own her.

There’s something inexplicably remarkable about sharing this moment with her. It’s reminiscent of the quiet in the early mornings when I run up to the outcrop on the side of the mountain and watch the pack lands wake up—when the sky is pink, the air is crisp, and there are still drops of dew left on the fauna of the forest. She is becoming my solace, my eye in the storm of life.

She’s becoming my everything.

I swallow and brush her soapy hair to one side, bending to kiss her neck. I linger there, breathing in her scent and squeezing her shoulder. “You can rinse your hair,” I say, my lips moving against her skin, but I don’t leave her neck.

I can’t. I can’t bring myself to. The bare, exposed skin is too tempting. It beckons me, ensnaring my attention.

She spins, though, forcing me to back up enough to let her keep her footing so she can remove the shampoo from her hair. As she rinses, I grab my shower gel and washcloth and wash myself, keeping my eyes and mind off her delicious body and the water and suds that trace over every subtle curve.

And off of her graceful, arched, beautifully displayed neck.

A delicate hand takes the shower gel from the shelf, and I whip my head around, my brow raised as Cassandra squeezes a large dollop into her green washcloth. She looks up at me from beneath her lashes, a blush spreading across her cheeks and a sheepish smile on her face. “What? It smells good,” she says with a one-shouldered shrug. “I want to smell like you.”

My wolf spins in a circle in my head, preening and prancing like a peacock, and my chest maybe puffs up a little as well. “I want you to smell like me too,” I reply as I drag my gaze down her body, watching the path of her hands as she washes herself. “I know a better way to make that happen,” I add, stepping under the water and returning my eyes to hers.

I reach for her, ready to follow that path with my hands instead of my eyes, to take over the cleansing of her skin and to leave my scent inside her pussy and on her body, but she backs away a step, shaking her head. “Eyes only.”

“But—”

“Wesley is here,” she says, just as the doorbell rings.

“You saw him?” I ask, and she nods. “Why didn’t he mindlink me?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

I groan and drag my hand over my face. “What does he want?”

“I don’t know that either,” she says, shaking her head as she continues to wash her body.

“Well, he can go back home. I’m busy.” She arches a brow at me. “I am.”

“You don’t want him to think you’re shirking your duties, do you?”

I rest my hands on my hips, the water sluicing down my body and taking the soap with it. “Right now, you are my duty. And I’m sure he doesn’t think that.”

She nods her chin at the bathroom door. “Just go talk to him. I’m sure he wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. And I will be fine without you for a few minutes while you do.”

I growl, then spin away from her and march out of the shower. “Fine. But I want you in my T-shirt and in that bed”—I point towards my bedroom as I yank my towel off the rack and dry my body—“when I come back up here. Understood?”

Her irises swirl with her lycan, and she nods her agreement. The fogged glass of my shower blocks most of her body from my view, but she steps under the water to rinse herself, and I can imagine the path the suds take as they disappear from her body.

I’m so tempted to tell Wes to fuck off and jump back in there with her.

So tempted.

Instead, I rush out of the bathroom, biting my fist to hold back the building groan of sexual and emotional frustration so I can dress and talk to my alpha.