"So it's a no."
He shakes his head. "It's a conditional yes. I don't like the way you've been acting more than I dislike the idea of a dance class. If this gets you even an inch of yourself back, I'll figure out how to live with it."
The tiny lift in my chest threads into something steadier. "Conditions?"
"One of us drives you. Every time. We wait in the car. No walking the parking lot alone."
"That's not necessary."
"It is. It's not just about you. It's about optics. An unbonded omega at a night class? I won’t risk you getting snatched up by some neanderthal alpha. Plus OPA willwrite me a letterhead if something goes sideways. If you want to go, you accept the terms."
I fold my hands. "All right. I accept the conditions."
His gaze searches my face for the catch that isn't there.
"Thank you."
He stands, like his body decided to move before his brain finished. For a second I think he's going to sit back down. He doesn't. He rounds the desk, slow, palms open, approaching a skittish animal.
"Vee," he says quietly. His hand lifts—aimed for the back of my neck.
I step to the side to pick up the tablet.
It's a small motion. Not a flinch. Functional. His fingers skim air where my throat would have been.
The air between us chills.
I keep my eyes on the home screen. "I'll send you the class link."
"Verena," he tries again, closer now. He reaches for my cheek and I angle my head to scratch at an imaginary itch, shoulder lifting, cheek turning, body tilting out of his reach.
My hands find the tablet. My gaze fixes on the corner of his desk. My smile is polite customer-service.
His fingers hover a breath from skin, touch nothing.
The sound he makes isn't a growl. It's a breath collapsing.
"Send me the link. That'll be all."
"Yes, Alpha."
I'm out of the room before the next inhale.
In the hallway, my pulse is racing. I don’t want to anger him but I don’t want him to touch me more.
I text him the class information with hands that shake.
A moment later, my phone vibrates.
Ragon:Received. I'll take Tuesday. We'll sort the rest.
A second bubble appears, hangs, disappears.
I slide the phone into my back pocket and keep moving.
***
Friday arrives, and with it, card night.
