There’s something weighty about that last word. Something that makes me think he’s never experienced that kind of honesty from a partner.
I’m at a bit of a loss for words as he takes another bite, looking down like he’s embarrassed by his answer. How is this alpha real? I mean, I’ve heard tell that alphas like him existed, but I never believed it. Not after so many terrible experiences.
I have the oddest urge to cry.
“Well, shit. Do you mind if I use that in my testimonials?”
He shakes his head, clearly relieved I’m not weirded out. “Go for it.”
We eat for a moment before he asks me something. “Why do you like it? I’d offer you some of this salad for the answer, but…” He grimaces down at the wilted spinach.
“Hah, yeah, I’m good. You’ll have to think of another way to pay me back for my answers.”
I have a lot of suggestions if he can’t come up with anything.
“I like it for similar reasons, the discovery and honesty and…it’s just fun, you know? I spent so much time when I was younger trying to perform a version of sex that I thought I was supposed to enjoy. Trying to perform a version ofmyselfthat I thought I was supposed to be. Then I realized, why the fuck am I doing this? Why am I making myself miserable for alphas I don’t even like, and who clearly don’t like me? So I left them and made it my mission to figure out whatIwant to be when I strip away all the bullshit expectations and boxes I was shoved into. Turns out, I didn’t want to starve myself. I didn’t want to be obedient and demure. I wanted to be loud, and take up space.” There’s a prickle of embarrassment at my impassioned speech, so I take a sip of my wine, then tack on, “And make omegas come.”
Beau’s mouth hangs open, his eyes sparkling as the lobster on his fork sits forgotten. “I think I’m in love with you.”
I know he’s not serious, but the relief that I didn’t freak him out floods through me in a wave of endorphins. I force myself to tamp them down, asking the question I dread on every date. “It doesn’t bother you that I’m a sex worker? If this went further, would you let me keep doing it?”
His frown makes my stomach sink, but he sets his fork down and places his hand atop mine. “First of all, I wouldn’tletyou do anything. What you do for work is your choice.”
“You say that now, but…”
Beau squeezes my hand lightly. “Sex with other partners doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t make me jealous. The idea of you with other omegas is clearly very appealing to me. If you wanted to branch into working with other designations, that would also be fine if it was what you wanted. As long as we were open and honest about it, and you told me if…feelingsarose, that’s all that I’d need.”
That’s his second mention of honesty. “I don’t lie about my feelings.”
He gives me a sad smile. “That’s good. I, uh, had a bad experience with that.”
I flip my hand over so I can squeeze his back, interlacing our fingers. “Tell me about it.”
“It’s not exactly great first date material,” he says with a sheepish chuckle.
“Do I seem like I care what’s an appropriate conversation topic?”
He sighs. “I had a pack. Back in college, I became really close with some of my hockey teammates. We lived together, played together, and got along really well. Then I met an omega and hit it off. We dated just the two of us, then I introduced her to my friends and we all meshed, so we became a pack.”
There’s obvious pain in his voice. Heartbreak.
“Anyway, long story short, I got injured and couldn’t play, and being out of commission and in pain made my depression worse. Made me no longer the fun, relaxed guy who didn’t ask for anything. The last straw for them was when I had to miss my omega’s heat because I was recovering from shoulder surgery. They decided I wasn’t fit to be in the pack because I couldn’t contribute. Moved out and across the country within a matter of weeks.”
“Fucking hell, that’s awful!” My chest aches for him.
Beau shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I definitely wasn’t perfect or faultless. I started drinking more because of the pain, which made my depression worse. And we were young, and probably not a good fit to begin with. What hurt the most was them not even trying to talk to me about it. Talking behind my back, not expressing their concerns, pretending that everything was fine when I asked them about it. Then, finding out that it definitely wasn’t fine. That they didn’t like me or want to be around me, and I’d been a fool to think they did.” He wipes a tear from his eyes. “Shit, sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. God, who ditches their packmate right after he had shoulder surgery? Who gets mad that you can’t contribute to a heat because you’re too injured? That’s such a fucked mentality. No one owes you sex. Ever. Doesn’t matter if you’re in a pack.” I’m seething, ready to find these jerks and tear them a new asshole.
“I agree. But it’s okay, I’m over it. Mostly.”
I frown. “It’s not okay.” I’ve spent less than an hour with this alpha and I know in my gut he is a decent man who anyone would be lucky to be in a pack with.
Beau, oddly enough, smiles as our eyes meet. “It’s been shit for my self-esteem and dating life, but I’m working on it. They don’t matter anymore.” His thumb strokes against my palm and my heart stutters. “I’m ready to move on.”
chapter 7
. . .
