She nods, looking over her shoulder with a frown. “I’m fine,” she says. “That was rude of them, though. And that’s coming from someone who lives in New York City for crying out loud.”
I can’t help but smile at the fierce bite in her tone.
“You’re sure you’re fine?” I double check, running my gaze over her and squeezing her hand.
“Promise, Cole.” She smiles. “Coffee?”
When we round the corner and close in on the shop, the line is already snaked around twice, at least fifteen people messing around on their phones while they wait. Charlotte leans into me as we join the line, tracing shapes on my forearm. This little portion isn’t quite as loud as other spots, especially since there’s none of the open stall vendors here, but it’s still enough noise to have my skin crawling. Lucky for us both that Charlotte’s an Alpha. Her soft touch keeps me just on the edge of having a freak out over all the stimulation rather than over it.
“How long have you been dancing?” I ask after we’ve moved for the second time. If I’m going to get a headache from all the noise, I might as well learn some things about the Alpha the Council’s picked for me.
“My parents had me in basics from kindergarten, but I didn’t start ballet until I was nine. One of their friends was a dancer and occasional instructor and told them that kids tend to do better if they’re started on the older side of things.”
“Why is that?”
We move another few feet, and she presses harder into me. Is it intentional? Or is she just responding on a base level to my growing unease from standing among all these people?
“Mostly attention span, but also that a lot of kids won’t really hold onto technique until that point.” She shrugs. “So I did lotsof other types of dancing but nothing as formal as ballet until my ninth birthday. Not sure any of that is true, but it’s worked well for me.”
“What’s your dream role?”
Her response is instantaneous. “Kitri from Don Quixote.” But then her nose wrinkles and her smile is more wistful. “But it’s not something I’ll ever actually be chosen for.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“Because I’ll never be principal,” she says. It’s such a calm statement, her tone nearly blasé. “And that’s the type of role that only a principal will be given.”
Confusion races through me, wearing away at my already fraying nerves. She must sense it despite my scent blockers working perfectly because she tightens her hold on my elbow and rubs her cheek against my bicep, the softest of croons falling from her lips.
She’s so tiny, especially for an Alpha.
The scent marking soothes my body, calming it enough to not have me quite so close to a panic attack. It allows me to drop my shoulders and relax my hand in my pocket so my nails are no longer digging into my thigh.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
A barista calls us forward before she can offer a response. I order my customary London fog while she orders a spicy mocha, and I have my card out before she can even offer. Her lips purse, but she doesn’t voice an objection.
We’re quiet as we wait, tucked out of the way. When a different barista calls out our names, I squeeze Charlotte’s hand and then grab both paper cups. The woman working offers me a wide smile.
“Have a good day,” she says.
Charlotte’s beside me before I can offer a polite reply, a growl ripping through her entire body as she wraps an arm aroundmy waist and plasters herself to my side. She’s angled herself to mostly be in front of me despite our height difference. The flare of possession has my blood going molten and my throat drying. No one has ever shown that level of proprietorship, hasn’t been interested enough to even try. Well, aside from Marcus at the gala, but that was different—bonded Alphas are a force of nature.
Is it possible to want to kiss her even more? The urge to press her against the wall in this moment is nearly overwhelming, managing to drown out every stare and smell and muttered conversation.
The barista pales and drops her eyes without another word, slipping away from the counter to work on the next drink. Charlotte takes her drink from my careful grip, not meeting my eyes. Shaking off the near-animalistic desire to sink my dick into her, I silently guide us through various stalls until we get to one of the other entrances of the market, one of the ones that overlooks the shoreline.
The clouds have grown heavier, the promise of rain growing closer. The wind is worse, too, but not quite bad enough to cut through my shirt. Without a word, I settle onto one of the benches scattered along the street. Charlotte sits beside me, leaving a careful couple inches between us now.
“Sorry,” she says after a bit, taking a long drink of her coffee. “That wasn’t really appropriate.”
I shake my head.
“You were perfectly fine,” I assure her. She doesn’t relax, though. I try to soothe her the way she did me with her touch earlier. “Really, Charlotte, I don’t mind you being protective. It’s a normal response. Some would say it’s a good thing you’re reacting that way around an Omega so soon after matching.”
“You’re sure?”
I nod and then take her hand in mine. “I promise to never lie about something like that.”
