“Nice watch.”
I glanced up from my phone. The man was looking at me now. His hazel eyes held a coy glint that echoed in the little curve of his mouth. Now I could tell he was younger than me by at least a few years. Probably in his early twenties. In many other cities, it would make his entire getup odd, like he was trying too hard to fit in. Or stand out. But the bespoke suit didn’t really mean much in LA where so many wealthy elites played and mingled. He had “trust fund kid” written all over him.
His eyes dropped to my lips and then to the watch in question. It wasn’t anything particularly fancy. I’d purchased it a few years ago when I first started brushing elbows with the rich and powerful, knowing the brand would hold weight even if it was their budget line.
“Thank you,” I murmured. The restless feeling settled in my veins, quieting until I almost couldn’t feel it. I breathed in the heady relief, and then I took a leap, unable to take my eyes off the way his lips and cheeks harmonized together. “You waiting for someone?”
Most people out here were paired—there were even a few slightly larger groups, probably packs going out with their Omegas. Another ten feet down, a door was propped open, leading to the hotel’s main restaurant and bar.
He shook his head. “Not tonight. Just needed some fresh air before I head back home tomorrow.”
Home. “You’re not from LA?”
“Nope.” He popped the “p”. It made me want to kiss him. His eyes dropped to my lips again. Fuck, he was being really damn bold with that.
Well, I could match him if he was willing to be that out in the open with his interest.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
His smile was slow to grow, but it spread like sunshine across the mountains. “I don’t drink alcohol, but I’m sure I can find something else.”
Hell yeah, he could.
He stood in an easy rush of lean limbs. The suit fit him even better standing, fitted so well it would make tailors weep. His shoulder brushed mine as we walked through that door and sat at one of the high tops in the hotel’s bar.
I couldn’t remember what we talked about, just the way his gaze was always so earnest, the way he leaned forward and kissed me that first time, bold and brave. How his laugh was bright, like a warm day at the beach, and it lit up my entire damn body. How he had a room in the hotel, something that probably cost more than my damn rent. The way his eyes darkened when I fucked him, slow and then harder when he insisted. I could remember the way he was sprawled on the bed when I let myself out at nearly three in the morning, the way my heart seemed to beat a different rhythm from that night on.
And, for the rest of my life, I could draw the exact moment when my teeth accidentally broke his skin when I came deepinside him, even knowing that Alphas were supposed to be so fucking cautious with shit like that. I could always remember the look of horror when I felt him the next day, felt his emotions like they were my own, and realized he was an Omega whose name I didn’t know. All I knew was his hazel eyes and olive skin and the apple scent that clung to him.
Forty-One
MEGAN
The townhome is dark and silent as I slip inside it, dropping my bag on the entry table and slipping off my shoes. I don’t bother to turn on the hall light, using the dim shadows cast by the streetlight out front to get me to the kitchen. Thursday. It’s been three days since the crisis event. In theory, we should be through the worst of everything.
The weight of the reality that we’re not makes it nearly impossible to move through the house, every step like moving through molasses. I pause at the kitchen counter, trying to remember how to eat, how to even have an appetite. I could do that. I could pull down one of those chocolate bars and…
And all I can see is Cole twisting us the last time I’d grabbed one, how he’d let me take him to my bed so I could make the awful feelings of helplessness fade.
Feelings that are way worse now, loud and monstrous. My ringing phone is a welcome noise in the horrific space that is my mind.
“Hello?” I answer without looking at the screen.
“Megs.” It’s Charlotte, and she sounds like she’s been crying.
My heart climbs up my throat, all my fear and panic back in a moment of horrid suspension. I’d literally just left his room an hour ago. He’s been stable the last two days. Well, as stable as can be expected given… everything. Which really just means the alarms on the various machines only go off when they’re expected to and not all the damn time.
“What’s wrong? I can be there in twenty minutes.”
If I get a rideshare. Which I really shouldn’t do because I’ve already missed three shifts and will probably miss a lot more. Our budget might not be the tightest, but now’s not really the time to be adding extras if we can help it.
“No, no, it’s…” Charlotte gasps for breath like she’s drowning. Vaguely, I can hear Marcus talking in the background. “Y-you’re okay to stay home. You need to sleep.”
The anxiety doesn’t lessen a single bit. I try my best to swallow around it as I lean over the counter, dropping my head onto my elbow and closing my eyes.
“They’re going to pull him off the sedation,” she says after a minute. “He’s starting to try and breathe on his own, so they think he’ll be able to handle it.”
It’s like a gut punch. My breath gusts out of me, and my muscles lock up.
