“Thank you,” Rett says, with a sincerity that catches me off guard.
I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m not agreeing to anything. I’m just saying we should talk. Like rational adults.”
“Rational adults sounds good,” Diego says with a warm smile. “Better than growling alpha idiots.”
“Speak for yourself,” Tristan mutters, but there’s a small smile on his lips.
I check my watch. It’s not even nine yet, but the day feels like it’s been a week long. “It’s getting late. I should head home.”
“We’ll take you,” Rett says immediately.
“We drove,” Dane adds, already turning toward the parking lot.
I hold up a hand. “That’s not necessary. I can walk. It’s only a few blocks.”
“It’s dark,” Rett counters.
“It’s Sweetwater,” I reply, trying not to sound panicked at the thought of being cooped up in a vehicle with them. “The most dangerous thing I’m likely to encounter is a passive-aggressive note from someone who doesn’t like my recycling habits.”
“Still,” Diego says, his expression concerned. “We’d feel better if we knew you got home safely.”
I should say no. I should insist on my independence, on my ability to walk home alone like I’ve done countless times before. But something in their collective gaze makes me hesitate.
“Fine,” I relent. “But I’m walking, not taking your tank. I need the fresh air.”
“We’ll walk with you,” Rett decides, as if it’s settled.
“All of you?” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s not necessary.”
“Pack,” Dane says simply, like that one word explains everything.
And weirdly, it kind of does.
“Alright, fine,” I sigh, turning to head in the direction of my apartment. “Just…try not to look like a security detail or something.”
My brain immediately screams in protest at the words coming out of my mouth. Three blocks. Three blocks of being surrounded by this... this walking pheromone cloud. I’m already overwhelmed by everything tonight. The static confession, Diego’s speech, the bar fight, and my own confusing feelings. Being in such proximity to them is like standing next to four space heaters while wearing a wool sweater.
But the alternative is sitting in a car with them. At least walking gives me fresh air.
I start walking, hyperaware of their presence behind me.
Of course, within half a block, they’ve fallen into a loose formation around me. Rett walks slightly ahead, Tristan and Diego flank me on either side, and Dane brings up the rear. It’s so absurd I almost laugh. What do I even do with this? How does a normal person navigate having four human shields who smell like a high-end cologne ad?
We walk in a strange, charged silence for a block. It’s not entirely uncomfortable. I pull out my phone, mostly just to have something to do with my hands, and start scrolling aimlessly through a food blog I like. A distraction from the four walking pheromone clouds surrounding me.
“I can feel you doing this, you know,” I say, not looking at any of them in particular.
“Doing what?” Tristan asks innocently.
“The alpha diamond of protection or whatever this is,” I gesture vaguely around us. “It’s like I’m suddenly the president with my overdressed secret service team. People are staring.”
It’s true. The few pedestrians we pass do double-takes at the sight of four impeccably dressed men in a diamond formation around one woman. I catch some of them trying to see which omega is getting the royal treatment.
“Let them stare,” Tristan says with a grin. “Maybe they’ll think you’re a celebrity.”
“Or a witness in a mob trial,” Diego suggests.
“Or that you have four bodyguards because you’re incredibly important,” Tristan adds.
