Everything about Wes had changed. The bright bubbliness he'd shown before had been wiped out. In its place was a stone-faced man who wanted nothing to do with him. Marcellus and his wolf both wanted to run to Wes and comfort him, but the moment he took another step, he felt it.
Anger flared in Wes, but it wasn't just from himself alone. Something deep and powerful stirred within him, and Marcellus felt another unfamiliar emotion spread from the man into every inch of his bones. Wes’ body was rigid, and he glared daggers at him.
"Are you okay?" Cellus ventured. "I know this is sudden but—"
Wes held up a single finger. He closed his eyes, then drew in a deep breath and held it before he slowly started to exhale. When his eyes fluttered open, the anger and tension that had filled the air was gone. In its place was confusion.
"Someone can show you the way out." Wes rushed past him. "I need to attend to those students."
"Wes, wait!"
Marcellus moved to go after him, but the omega was swift and disappeared into the sea of people. Cellus was now left by himself in the room where Wes' art hung and was bewildered at the sudden change of events. What had he felt pouring out from the other man in thick waves? Like the anger, whatever it was had dissipated just as quickly as it had manifested itself.
Four
Wes
Wes leaned against the wall of the bathroom and tried to catch his breath. What the hell was happening? He felt that voice, that tug, thatthingcome alive inside of him. Why? He'd been successful at pushing it down for so long, but the tiger inside of him threatened to rise to the surface like never before.
Damn. Why did he have to bring up his brothers? That wasn't something Wes liked to talk about or dwell on. What was he supposed to say? That his brothers had no idea who orwhathe was and that he had no intention of ever telling them?
"Okay, okay." Wes stalked over to the sink and threw on the cold water. He dunked his hands into it and ran his palms over his face again and again until it was no longer burning. "It's fine. I’m good."
He snatched up some paper towels and dabbed at his face, then threw them away and examined himself in the mirror. He didn't need it coming to the surface, that forbidden part of him that needed to remain buried. Wes sucked in a deep breath and held it until his lungs burned. That was it. He needed to get back to work.
He exited the bathroom, and his eyes darted around. The man was gone. Had he even gotten a name from him?Marcellus,he heard from deep in his mind... His brain was a hot mess, and his body was overheating. He wanted to just bolt and never come back to the museum, but he couldn't do that. This was his job, his life. Wes couldn’t just give up all he worked for because… he shook his head. Because nothing.
Nothing had happened.
There was no sign of the breathtaking stranger. He ignored the fact he’d just called the man breathtaking… although in his defence, Wes was being accurate. Wes scanned the lobby once more to be sure, but Marcellus was gone. He said a prayer that the man stayed that way before he could freak out anymore. Sandra caught his eye and raised a brow. She walked over to him and asked, "Why are you sneaking around like that?"
"Like what?" He cleared his throat after his voice had cracked. "I wasn't sneaking around. I'm just... looking."
"Looking at what?"
"Nothing, nothing." Wes quickly adjusted his clothes and straightened up so he wouldn't look like he was creeping around his own job. He so didn’t need to call more attention to himself. “It’s nothing. I need to get back to work.”
Wes disappeared back into the throng of activity in the museum before Sandra could ask any more questions he surely had no answers to.
Thankfully, it was packed the rest of the day. That was enough to keep his mind preoccupied so he wouldn’t have to think about Marcellus or the fact that he felt close to him even without knowing anything about the man. Wes preferred working and all the chaos over it being too quiet. The only problem was that his workday wouldn’t last forever. And it didn’t.
If it was any other night, he would have locked himself in the restoration room and worked on one of the paintings from the museum’s storage. It wouldn’t necessarily ever go up on display, but that was no reason for them not to always look their best. Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t an option tonight. Wes had to get to the gallery if he was going to make his own opening. Maybe if he was lucky, he would be able to sell some of the pieces or get one or two commission requests.
“Thank you!” Carla smiled up at him from her desk as he entered her office. “You saved my life today.”
He smiled back. “I try my best. I’ll be back tomorrow bright and early—”
“You’re off tomorrow,” Carla pointed out, preventing him from finishing his thought. “As much as I love the help, go home. You haven’t had a day off in weeks, and you could use the rest.”
Rest. That was the last thing that Wes wanted. If he was alone for too long, his mind would have a chance to go to places he refused to allow it, and he would be a mess all over again. No, working was his salvation and how he kept control. As long as he was able to do that, he would be happy.
“Are you sure you don’t need me?” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I could come in and take a look at the new pieces you’re getting in.”
Carla shook her head. “No. I want you to take a break before you burn out. Go on, get outta here.” She smiled. “You deserve a break, and you have a gallery opening to attend.”
Wes’ lips pulled up into a half smile, but he couldn’t hold it. He gave Carla a half-hearted goodnight before leaving her office. That was it then. He couldn’t avoid the storm his brain was sure to bring up tomorrow. He dug out his keys as he walked to his car. “Something to worry about tomorrow,”Wes muttered to himself. At the moment, he had to get to the gallery and be there for his debut show.
A quick trip home to freshen up, and he was ready to be on his way. His stomach churned. All he could do was hope that his work was well received, but that just made him feel like puking. If it flopped, it would hurt like a bitch.
