OMEGA

CHAPTER TEN

LET ME IN

KAEL’S POV

She lied to me.

I don’t need proof. I don’t need the scroll. Her scent shifted the second the words left her mouth.

“No. I don’t.”

But I felt it.

The tension beneath her skin. The hesitation. The weight of something she wasn’t ready to share.

I stood there holding the parchment, staring at the three words written in ancient ink—The seal cracks—and all I could think was:

Why the hell would she lie?

She turned away like it didn’t matter, like I couldn’t see the storm building behind her eyes.

I moved without thinking. Crossed the room in three strides.

“Amara,” I said quietly.

She froze but didn’t turn.

“I know you’re hiding something.”

She still didn’t move.

“I’m not going to force it out of you. But don’t lie to my face.”

Now she turned.

Slowly.

Her expression wasn’t cold. It wasn’t even angry. It was guarded. Like she was holding something delicate and dangerous inside, and if she let it slip, it would destroy her.

“I don’t know what it means,” she said.

It wasn’t the truth. But it wasn’t a full lie either.

I stepped closer.

Close enough to see the flutter in her throat as she swallowed.

“You do,” I said.

Silence.

Then—barely a whisper—“Not all of it.”

My jaw clenched, but I nodded. It was more than I’d expected.

Her eyes flicked to my hand, still holding the scroll. “Where did it come from?”

“I don’t know. I was here when you left. It wasn’t on the table then.”

“And now it is.”

She wasn’t just afraid.

She was terrified.

Not of the scroll. Of what it meant. Of what it woke in her.

I lifted my free hand and touched her arm—lightly at first. But the moment I made contact, her breath caught. She tensed beneath my fingers.

Not pulling away.

Just trying to hold still.

Her scent curled around me, faint but sharp—jasmine and something unspoken. I didn’t care what it meant anymore. I just needed her to breathe again.

“You don’t have to carry whatever this is alone.”

She looked up at me. Her eyes were too bright.

“I’ve carried it alone my whole life,” she said.

And that—that cut deeper than anything else.

I stepped closer.

She didn’t stop me.

My hand slid down from her arm to her wrist. Her skin was warm. Too warm. Like she was burning from the inside.

“Let me in,” I said. “Even if just a little.”

Her lips parted.

The space between us shrank until nothing but silence lived there.

Her breath brushed my chin.

If I leaned in even slightly…

If I gave in for just one second—

I would taste her.

Her hand rose—hesitantly, shaking—and touched the center of my chest. My heart kicked against her palm.

She looked up at me.

Eyes wide.

Wanting.

Hurting.

I leaned in.

Close.

Too close.

But not enough.

Not yet.

Her lips trembled. My thumb brushed her jaw.

And then—

She exhaled sharply and pulled back. “Don’t,” she whispered.

I stopped.

But I didn’t let go.

“Why?” I asked, barely breathing.

“Because if you kiss me now,” she said, “I won’t be able to stop.”

Neither will I.

I didn’t say it. I just let my hand fall slowly from her wrist.

And walked away—before I did something we’d both regret too soon.

I needed air.

But no amount of it could cool the fire clawing through my chest.

Her scent still lingered on my skin—jasmine and something softer, something aching. Like longing wrapped in light. I clenched my fists, trying to push it out of my head.

It didn’t work.

My wolf was pacing just beneath the surface, restless. Frustrated.

- Go back.

- Touch her again.

- Take what’s ours.

I shut him out, teeth grinding. She wasn’t ready. And gods help me—I didn’t want to be the one who ruined what fragile trust she was building between us.

Not by giving in to instinct.

Not like this.

She stood behind me in the kitchen, silent. I could feel her eyes on my back like heat. Like lightning about to strike.

I took a slow breath.

Turned to face her.

She looked shaken. Not from fear—but from restraint. Her fingers still hovered near her lips, like she could feel where mine almost touched.

We stared at each other in the dim morning light.

“I should…” she started, but her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “I should get some air.”

I nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“No,” she said too quickly. Then, softer, “I need a moment.”

I hated how much that stung.

But I let her go.

She slipped past me, her shoulder brushing mine.

Even that—just her shoulder brushing mine—lit up every nerve in my body like a live wire.

She didn’t look back.

And I stood there, alone in the kitchen, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do with everything I felt.

She doesn’t trust me fully yet.

But she wants to.

And damn it, I want her too.

Not just her body—though the bond made me crave her like air—but all of her. Her secrets. Her scars. The pieces of her no one else got to touch.

- You’re not alone anymore, Amara.

I meant that. With every beat of my cursed heart.

But this—whatever’s waking beneath the seal, whatever she’s carrying—it’s pulling her away from me.

And I’ll be damned if I let it take her.

AMARA'S POV

I shouldn’t have looked back.

But I did.

Just once.

He was still standing in the kitchen, watching the door long after I’d closed it behind me. Like he could see through the wood. Like he was trying to hold back everything we’d almost become.

My fingers trembled as I lifted them to my lips.

They hadn't even touched.

Not really.

But the almost still burned.

It sat in my chest like something unfinished, something dangerous. Like a spell I’d almost spoken—but swallowed instead.

> You lied to me.

Those were the words he said after I told him I didn't know what the scroll meant earlier, and they struck deeper than they should have.

Because they were true.

And because even then—even when he was angry—he still looked at me like I was something he wanted to understand. Something worth waiting for.

He didn’t kiss me.

He could have.

And maybe I wanted him to.

Goddess, maybe I wanted it too much.

But Kael—he pulled back first. He stepped away like it hurt him. Like if he stayed too close, he’d forget everything else.

I should be relieved.

Instead, I felt hollow. Strung out between longing and guilt.

The wind brushed my skin as I stepped outside, clearing my head, but it couldn’t clear the way he looked at me.

The way he smelled me—like my truths were written in my scent, like he could taste my silence.

He called it temptation wrapped in moonlight and sorrow.

But what if he saw too much?

What if he got too close and saw what I didn’t even understand myself?

The vision. The seal. My mother’s voice.

You’re the key.

- The seal cracks.

That scroll had changed everything. I could still feel the phantom weight of it in my hands.

But I couldn’t tell him yet.

I couldn’t give him that piece of me, not while everything inside me still felt like shifting glass.

A branch snapped behind me.

I turned, heart racing—but it was just wind through the trees.

Still… I didn’t feel alone.

I looked back toward the cabin.

And for one breathless second, I wanted him to come after me. I wanted him to break the space between us, press me against the wall and kiss me like it would shatter us both.

I wanted something real.

Not visions. Not prophecy.

Just… him.

But he didn’t come.

And maybe that hurt more than anything.