Chapter 24: The Unspoken Question
The purr was a soft, unexpected vibration against his throat. Rhys had been lying perfectly still, one arm tucked under his head, the other draped around Aurora’s back as she plastered herself against his side. He’d been watching the pale moonlight trace the pattern of her lace canopy, listening to her breathing even out, when he felt it.
A low, contented rumble, emanating from her small frame.It was primal, unconscious. An omega’s ultimate sign of safety and satisfaction.
He froze, a strange lump forming in his throat.He’d heard purring before, of course. With his ex, it had been a performance, a switch she could flip to get something she wanted.This was different.This was seismic. This was her body, without any permission from her mind, declaring itself utterly safe in his arms. A virgin purr.His chest tightened, an unfamiliar ache spreading beneath his sternum.
He looked down at the top of her head, her blonde hair fanned out across his bicep. In sleep, the last traces of anxiety had smoothed from her features.She looked impossibly young. And she was purring.He didn’t move.He barely breathed. He just let the vibration work its way into his skin, a soothing frequency that slowly unknotted the permanent tension in his shoulders.His own exhale was a silent surrender.Fuck.
Aurora woke to the smell of coffee and something else, something crisp and salty. She blinked, pushing herself up on her elbows.She was in her bed, tucked under her own duvet. The other side was rumpled but empty.Sunlight streamed through the windows.And she was alone.
A pang, sharp and sudden, hit her right behind the ribs.He’d left. Of course he’d left. He’d fixed her faucet, stayed through her heat, ordered her pizza, and put her to bed.The transaction, whatever it had been, was complete. He had a shop to run, a life.
The purr from last night felt like a dream, something embarrassing and fragile.She hugged her knees to her chest, the emptiness of the room pressing in on her. Then she heard it.A faint clatter from the kitchen. The low, murmuring sound of a radio news station.Her heart leapt. She scrambled out of bed, her bare feet silent on the fluffy rug.She peered around her bedroom door.Rhys stood at her stove, his back to her. He was wearing the same jeans from yesterday, but no shirt. The morning light painted the intricate tapestry of tattoos across his broad shoulders and back—old-school ink, nautical stars, a roaring tiger, script she couldn’t read from here.A dishtowel was slung over one shoulder. He was tending to a pan, his movements easy, practiced.
He looked completely, devastatingly at home.
“You’re awake.” He spoke without turning around, his alpha hearing catching her shallow breath.“Coffee’s on the counter. Mugs are… somewhere.”
“You’re still here,” she said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.
He glanced over his shoulder, a quick flash of his profile.“Said I would be. Promised you eggs.” He turned back to the pan. “Figured you’d need more than leftover garlic knots for breakfast.”
She drifted into the kitchen, drawn by the scent of him—soap from her shower, mixed with coffee and the faint, clean smell of his skin—and the sight of him occupying her space so casually.Her credit card was on the counter next to his black one. He’d neatly stacked the pizza boxes in her otherwise empty fridge.
“You didn’t have to,” she whispered, coming to stand a few feet away.
“I know.” He scooped fluffy scrambled eggs onto two plates already holding buttered toast.“You want ketchup? Hot sauce?”
“Ketchup.Please.”
He grabbed the bottle, squeezing a neat blob beside the eggs. He handed her a plate. “Eat.”
They stood at her kitchen counter, the morning news talking about traffic on the interstate.It was bizarrely normal.She took a bite of the eggs. They were perfect—soft, a little creamy, not overcooked. “These are really good.”
“One of three things I can make that doesn’t come frozen.” He took a large bite of toast. “Eggs, steak, chili.”
“A man of varied talents.”
He snorted, a quick, amused sound. “You purred last night.”
Aurora almost choked on her eggs.She set her fork down carefully, her face heating. “I… I did?”
“Like a little motor.” He wasn’t looking at her, focusing on his food, but his voice was soft. “Didn’t know you could.”
“I didn’t either.” She stared at her plate, a flush of warmth that wasn’t embarrassment spreading through her.He’d noticed. He’d felt it.And he hadn’t moved. “It just… happened.”
“Yeah.” He finished his eggs, rinsing his plate and putting it in the dishwasher. He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his bare chest.The tattoos shifted with the muscle. “Look, Aurora.I gotta get to the shop. Got a transmission rebuild I promised by noon.”
The warmth vanished, replaced by that familiar hollow feeling.“Right.Of course. Thank you, for… for everything. Really.”
He pushed off the counter and walked toward her, stopping just inside her personal space.He didn’t touch her. “My rut's coming.”
The statement was blunt, a fact dropped between them.Aurora blinked.“Your…?”
“My next rut. As an alpha.It’s not like an omega’s heat, not exactly. But it’s a cycle.The drive builds.The need for an omega.” His jaw was tight. “It’s why I was on that site.For release.”
“Oh.” The word was small. So this was it.The explanation.He’d needed someone, and she’d been available. Convenient.Safe.“It’s hitting sooner than I thought it would. Probably triggered by your heat.” He finally reached out, tracing the line of her jaw with his knuckle. His touch was calloused and gentle.“I should go.Clean break. That was the idea.”
She nodded, unable to speak around the ache in her throat.
“But,” he said, his thumb stroking her chin.“You purred.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet his. His gaze was dark, intense, no longer guarded.
“And I’m not sure I can walk away from that.” The admission seemed to cost him something.He dropped his hand. “My rut’s gonna be rough.I’ll be… a lot.Needy.Aggressive. Not like this.” He gestured between them.“I’d have to stay here.You’d have to let me. You’d have to want it.”
Aurora’s heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her fingertips.He was asking. He was laying out the raw, primal reality of it and asking.The fear was there, a thin, cold thread.The unknown. But it was drowned out by the memory of his weight pinning her gently to the mattress, the sound of his steady heartbeat under her ear, the deep, certain safety that had coaxed a purr from a place she never knew existed.“I want you,” she whispered. Not just the idea of an alpha.Him.Rhys.
A low growl rumbled in his chest, but his eyes softened.He nodded, once.“Okay. I’ll go to the shop, handle what I can, get my stuff. I’ll be back by tonight.” He cupped her face, his palm warm and encompassing.“You have until then to change your mind. Lock the door, don’t let me in. I’ll get the message.”
He kissed her forehead again, the same spot, and the gesture now felt like a brand.A promise.
Then he was pulling on his shirt, grabbing his keys and his wallet, sliding the black credit card next to her toaster. “For groceries,” he said, by way of explanation. “Get whatever you think we’ll need.I’ll eat anything.”
And then he was gone, the door clicking shut softly behind him.
Aurora stood in the silent, sunlit kitchen, her plate of half-eaten eggs going cold.The scent of him lingered.On her skin, in the air. She walked to the door, her hand hovering over the lock.
She didn’t touch it.