The director nods, gesturing at another guy on the sidelines. “Michael, you’re on camera,” Thomas calls out, not willing to fight me on this, and a tall, thin man jogs over to us. The alpha hands him the equipment, and I step out of his way as he hurries to the backseat of the vehicle.
Once the man is situated in the third row, I turn my attention back to my pack and the omega I definitely want to keep, forever.
“Let’s go, we are going to be late for breakfast,” I say, encouraging them both to move.
Elliott climbs into the back seat, while Rafe’s slower to move. He stands up slowly, his heated gaze pinned on Lilah.Well, this is going to be interesting.
“Rafe,” I say, a clear warning.
He shifts his attention to me, his eyes narrowing. “You knew…”
Without answering him, I stride around the vehicle andpull open the driver's side door. “Get in, asshole,” I say to him over the top as he shuts Lilah’s door.
He huffs out a half laugh. “I’m the asshole? We will be talking about this.”
A tension fills the vehicle, making it hard to breathe. Every inhale I take makes me want to pull the SUV off the road and pull Lilah into my arms. Obsessive compulsive disorder when focused on a person is dangerous. Because if there is one thing I’m sure of, I’m obsessed with this omega. I’m unable to think straight. Curling my fingers around the steering wheel, I focus on the road in front of us, while Lilah fidgets in her seat next to me.
I want to reach over and reassure her, but with the camera filming everything there isn’t much I could say.
Silence falls as I drive toward our destination. It’s a small, local restaurant on the river, one of those hidden gems with a heated deck overlooking everything. Elliott found it one morning and insisted we start one of the solo dates here.
“Where are we going?” Lilah breaks the silence, her voice tinged with nervousness.
“We’re getting some food first, then heading to a go-kart and mini-golf park. Maybe some surprises later,” Elliott says, leaning forward, his hand gripping the side of her seat. I catch his reflection in the rearview mirror, his nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply. “I hope you brought some of those cookies you baked. Sharing is caring, and chocolate cookies are my favorite. I can smell them all over you.”
Lilah clears her throat, her fingers tightening on her lap. “Maybe next time.”
“If there is a next time,” he teases, but the playful tone doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
She stiffens, and I can tell she didn’t take his words lightly. I reach over, curling my fingers around her thigh, feeling the tension in her body. The second I touch her, I know I can’tstop. Between what I was already feeling and her perfume, adding touch might have been a mistake. But I’m not willing to take it back.
Can we just cancel the whole show? I don’t think I can pretend with the others. Not after this. My entire focus will be on her. I know how my brain works. There’s no other option.
“Shut up, Elliott, Lilah isn’t going anywhere,” Rafe says, his tone dry and unamused, obviously attempting to cover up his concern. Not that he would admit it.
“I don’t think you can say that in front of the cameras,” she says, twisting to look at him.
“We are all rule breakers it seems,” he replies, and I can hear the sarcastic smile in his voice even without seeing his face.
“Yeah, I guess we are,” she counters, her voice dripping with a deceptive sweetness, but I can hear the underlying worry. Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged her to get in the car.
The beta in the car, who could potentially smell the truth on her, sits in silence, but his presence is a constant reminder. If his sense of smell is strong enough, this ends badly. One wrong move, and she could be sent home. The thought gnaws at all of us, a silent threat hanging over the car.
Pulling into the parking lot interrupts their standoff, and I’m out of the car and around to her side in less than twenty seconds after I’ve put the SUV into park. The camera crews are already here to film our arrival, but I ignore them, my focus solely on her. I open her door and help her out, taking her hand in mine, the warmth of her skin grounding me amidst the rising tension.
“Elliott said this place makes amazing waffles, if you like those,” I tell her, not waiting to see if the guys follow. I lead her into the building and straight out to the back balcony we paid to have private for filming. The smell of food driftsthrough the air, but if I had to choose, I’d pick her natural perfume over anything they’re serving.
Rafe and Elliott trail after us, and I’m already pulling out her seat and claiming the one beside her as they reach the table. My mind is racing, and I can feel the weight of what’s at stake.
Rafe notices the way we’re situated and drops into the seat across from her, his jaw tightening slightly. Elliott takes the one across from me, his eyes scanning the three of us, clearly picking up on the strange vibe that’s been in the air since Rafe realized what I did. She didn’t take her pill. And she smells fucking amazing.
I pick up the menu and stare at it sightlessly. All I want to do is lean over and bury my face in her neck, but I can’t. The cameras are rolling, and there’s a beta nearby who might catch on. The tension is palpable, a dangerous undercurrent running through the air.
Is she my match? Our match? Are those even real? I’ve always thought scent matches were something people made up. But I’m almost one-hundred percent sure that if I have a scent match, it’s her. And the risk of losing her, of having her scent and presence ripped away, is almost too much to bear.
“How were your group dates yesterday?” she asks, her face hidden behind the menu. The question hangs in the air, unanswered, and when the silence stretches too long, she slowly lowers the plastic barrier, her gaze flicking between us. “Is that off limits? Your other dates?”
“Why would you want to talk about other omegas when you’re the only one here right now?” Rafe asks, his tone sharp as he takes a deliberate sip of his water. She lowers her menu fully, her expression guarded.
