We’ve been here for a week, having left our lives at the Nest behind for the foreseeable future. Reid’s senior Beta staff took over the day-to-day management of the apartments so we could take an indefinite leave of absence to serve as Zora’s crew. It was the only way we could justify being on-site for every hour of her workday.
Her brown skin looks ashen today, that sallow cast of the bond ache making the dark circles under her eyes look like bruises. We’ve been around each other for days, but the proximity hasn't helped as much as we thought it would to lessen the rejection symptoms for any of us. We need to have sex to keep the bond strong while working towards marking her, but that’s up to her.
She's wilting because of the mess we made. The rejection is red-lining her system just as much as it's ours, but she walks through this ruin with a stubborn strength that makes my inner Alpha want to roar.
The inspector scoffs, looking past Zora as if she isn't even the one paying for the permits. He mutters about how engineering isn't a matter of aesthetics and that some things are simply too heavy for an Omega to manage. Zora’s jaw is tight, her fingers white where she grips the edge of the table. Her brown eyes find mine across the dusty expanse of the floor. It’s a single, sharp look. She doesn't have to say a word for me to know she wants me to handle the noise.
I drop the sledgehammer. The heavy thud echoes through the building, making the inspector jump and finally look toward the far wing. I don't say a word as I walk toward them, my gait heavyand purposeful. The grit on my skin and the raw power radiating off my frame make the man’s eyes go wide. By the time I reach the table, the Alpha inspector has taken a small, instinctive step back.
I stop right next to Zora, looming over the blueprints. I don't touch her, but I'm close enough to feel the heat coming off her arm. "Problems with the layout, Boss?"
My voice is a low rumble that vibrates in the stagnant air. I don't look at the inspector. I keep my focus on Zora, waiting for her to tell me which part of this man's ego I need to crush.
She peers up at me, and I can’t help but notice how her eyes flick to my lips. "The inspector was just explaining the support beam limitations, Dameon. He seems to think I don't understand the load requirements for the new infirmary wing."
I lean over the table, my shadow swallowing the blueprints and the inspector’s clipboard. I point to the structural notes for sector B. "We aren't removing the primary pillars. We're reinforcing the horizontal load with steel plates to clear the floor space. It meets city code for a conversion of this scale."
The inspector clears his throat, his eyes darting between my shoulders and Zora’s set expression. "I... well, if the reinforcement is part of the updated plan, then I suppose we can find a middle ground on the layout."
Zora’s gaze moves to him. "Then sign the preliminary check so my crew can keep moving."
The inspector glances at me and hurriedly scribbles his name on the forms, his hand shaking as he hands her the pen. He avoids my gaze as he packs up his gear and heads for the exit. I stay right where I am for a moment; the closeness sending a jolt through my arm. The pull of the bond is trying to snap us together even though we aren't touching.
Zora watches the door close until the heavy clang of the entrance echoes through the space. She turns to me. "Thankyou, Dameon, I don't think he would've signed that if you hadn't stepped in. He kept fighting me over every little detail because he didn't want to deal with an Omega, or maybe just because I'm a woman."
I lean closer, the intensity of the bond thickening the air between us. "You never haveto worry about men like him as long as I'm on this site. I'm here for whatever you need, Zora." I put an emphasis on the wordwhatever, making sure she hears the lust I'm barely holding back.
She looks up at me, and for the first time in a week, the exhaustion in her eyes disappears. A raw flash of desire takes its place; her pupils blowing wide as she tracks the movement of my chest. Her scent spikes, a sudden and intoxicating wave of honey and vanilla that makes my head swim.
"Zora, I need you in the front office for a second!" Reid's voice echoes from the makeshift office near the entrance, breaking the spell.
Zora blinks and pulls back, the professional mask snapping back into place. She gives me a stiff nod before turning toward the sound of Reid's voice. I watch her walk away, her steps a little more sure than they were minutes ago. I head back into the dust, but the feeling of her scent lingers in my nose.
The afternoon sun beats against the flat roof of the strip mall until the interior feels like a pressurized oven. Humidity clings to the exposed studs and pulverized drywall, making every breath feel like I'm drawing in heated lead. I've been in the back utility wing for hours, pulling rusted copper lines from the ceiling until my shoulders burn with a dull, throbbing heat. The physicallabor is the only thing that keeps the bond rejection from making me claw at my own chest.
I walk out into the main grocery section to grab a fresh jug of water and stop near a cluster of support beams. Zora stands over a makeshift drafting table she set up near the front windows. The light hits her from behind, silhouetting her slight frame against the cracked parking lot outside. She holds a pen over a set of structural blueprints, but her hand is trembling.
I stay in the shadows, my lungs seizing. The scent of her pain is overwhelming in this stagnant air. It's a thick, cloying sweetness that tells me her system is hitting a crisis point. She's been running on spite for a month, and the wall is finally crumbling. She reaches up to wipe sweat from her forehead, her movements heavy. Her brown skin looks ashen again, almost gray in the harsh work lights. I see her knees buckle. She catches herself on the edge of the table, her head bowing as she fights for air.
I move toward her. I stop a few feet away, my heart thudding against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"Boss, you need to sit down."
She doesn't look up. I can see the pulse jumping in the side of her neck. It's way too fast.
"I'm fine, Dameon, get back to work."
Her voice is a brittle whisper that lacks its usual authority. She tries to stand up straight, but her hand slips on the blueprints. I bridge the distance in a single stride, my hands finding her waist to steady her. The contact is an explosion. The sheer force of the pull hits me with the weight of a tidal wave that makes my head spin. She gasps, her fingers digging into my forearms as she leans into my strength.
"Don't touch me."
The command is weak. She doesn't pull away because she can’t. Her body is greedily drinking in my compatible Alpha proximity. I hold her there, my chest heaving as I fight the urgeto tuck her head under my chin. Her brown skin loses that sallow cast as the warmth returning to her cheeks.
"You're going to collapse, Zora, the heat in this place is too much. You haven't eaten since this morning."
I pull back just enough to look at her face. Her brown eyes are unfocused. She looks at me, and for a heartbeat, the mask of theBossslips. I see the girl from the home. She looks terrified of the very thing her body is demanding.
Zora swallows hard. "My office, now."
