The sharpness in Riven’s voice startled her, and she stared at him dumbly then, at the slant of his eyebrows, at the molten fury that tightened his shoulders. It was odd that his voice was flecked with madness now, a deepness that was not mere frustration or irritation. And it was even more fucked up that it had a rush of heat coiling in her lower belly. A burst of it that surged through her limbs, leaving the tips of her fingers tingling.

Her heart thumped, echoing blood in her ears. She ignored it all.

“It’s not even on paper,” she told him, raising a hand in submission. She was beginning to feel a little disturbed by the way he stared at her, as if she’d done him a great injustice, as if her words were an insult. But this should be his one-way ticket towards a better life. “Just calm down, alright? It’s okay—”

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he snapped, surged so close to her now that it had her flinching backwards. His scent ballooned into a sharp, angry pepper. “Now that you’ve got fancy survival skills, now that you can fucking summon fish, you’re throwing me away? You think you can live on your own?”

Sloane’s eyes were wide now, but he encroached on her space, spicy musk growing thicker in the air. She was unprepared for the wall of muscle that pressed upon her now, taller and stronger than she had assumed. She would never tell it to him, but she was a ridiculous fan of his anger, the irritated pulse of his jaw, the danger in his eyes and his scent at its hottest.

Her body trembled, sparked and ignited.

She stared. “What the fuck?”

Riven scoffed, consumed by an incensed cloud of displeasure. The scent of his manic was almost addictive, numbing her tongue, yet delicious in its heat. His eyes flickered, briefly displaying a moment of agony, and then was swallowed by fury, he almost seemed to vibrate. “You’re dropping me the moment you can?”

“Riven,” she gripped his arms now. “Are you crazy?” His pupils had eclipsed what was left of his irises now, a void forming within his pupils. And she felt a chill grow up her spine. “I’m the one holding you back,” she said. It was impossible to hide the quiver in her voice. “I’m the fucker you’ve cared for, for months. I’m the deadbeat Alpha. Why do you want to stay?”

The bunny was growling. Could bunnies growl?

“There’s no reason why you’d stay. Now that I’m lucid, now that I’m not addicted to alcohol, you can go. I allow you to go. There’s nothing holding you back. You’ll find an Alpha. You’ll be fine. You’re an Omega, right? Omegas—”

“I’m Beta!” Riven snarled, spat like the words were a revolting, depraved, insane secret. “I’m a Beta. Can’t you fucking tell?” That surprised her. A word that had some inkling in the duchess’s head. He watched her with bated breath, almost as if afraid, as if the words had weakened him. But Sloane simply stared.

“And what the fuck does that mean?”

“What the fuck—” Riven let out a bark of laughter, face contorting with pain. The breath seemed to be knocked out of him. “I’ve got no designation.”

“And who cares?”

“Who cares?” Riven gawked at her, heat rolling off his skin in waves. He seemed almost indignant, bristling at her words. “Unlike a girl like you. Beta males have no place in a pack. I’m not dominant, I’m not submissive. I’m fucking disgusting. The packs throw me out the moment they know. No one wants a useless unnatural Beta!” His eyes seared holes into her, almost exasperated by her idiocy.

“So, what does that mean?”

“That means I’m fucking unwanted!” he snarled, canines lengthening as he fumed. Then stiffened, shoulders falling. The coal darkness of his eyes seemed to crumble.

He refused to look at her then, as if suddenly aware of how he was acting. He stumbled back, a little dazed. But Sloane was picking at the pieces. He didn’t fit some kind of social hierarchy that she didn’t understand, representing a phenomenon deemed unnatural in this world. Evander’s pack Alpha had rejected him; it wasn’t the other way around.

And the way he was acting now was a sign of such unnaturalness.

She hummed. “I repeat, who cares?”

“Who cares?” he blinked, features contorting.

“Well, I married you, right?” she said. “And I’m pretty damn sure I lucked out there.” His lips parted, eyes growing wider. His rage seemed to dissipate from him, slackened jaw as though bewitched. “You saved me.”

He huffed, tongue flicked out to wet parched lips, and she found herself staring like a fucking idiot. “I did.” He seemed to grow quiet then, pondering her words. And she felt herself grow soft, heart swelling with concern for him. But she had to ask the hard questions, had to be sure.

“Does Evander know what his pack Alpha told you?”

Riven flinched. “I made some stupid excuse to him,” Riven said, almost a little broken. “It’s his right to be mad; I did him wrong. But Evander doesn’t know that I’m Beta.” He huffed. “I’m pretty convincing as an Omega in his presence.”

“And she paid you for it?”

“Everyone pays,” Riven muttered. And Sloane understood now that he was talking about Evander’s parents. He groaned then, collapsing into himself. “Evander found out somehow. That bitch must have told him. So, he thought I was only with him for the money.” He choked out a laugh, but it was etched with pain, memories buried in his thorax, pushed out to haunt him every time he walked into that store. “Now he hates me.”

Sloane couldn’t help herself, had to ask the question. If he loved Evander, she’d try her best to work things out in his favour. “Do you still care for him?”

He turned to her, looking older than ever. “I love Veyr,” he answered hotly, ignoring her question. “He took me in. He saved my life; he made you take me in. Not like you had much care for the topic when that happened.” He regarded her then. So, the duchess was already drinking and gambling when they first met. “But I appreciated that. And then I decided that this family is mine.” He reached forward then, and she was surprised when he took the other handle of the basket. “That you are my Alpha.”

Sloane couldn’t help the tremble of her heart, the way it soared. There were no words that could sufficiently describe the inner turmoil that boiled within her. His declaration had somehow ruptured an illicit heat in her chest, one that stretched to throb between her thighs.

It felt wrong as hell, and her cheeks grew moderately flushed. “Okay,” she said. “Then I’ll work hard.”

“And you’ll listen to me,” he muttered. “Because you’ve clearly lost half your brain.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll also take care of you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m so fucking hungry, Alpha.”

That shut her up. Her throat felt tight, a rush of warmth growing in her chest. A family. Her family. “Okay,” she said after a long moment, her voice barely there. “Okay, then we’ll go home and we’ll eat.”

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