I get a quick murmur of agreement, then the call disconnects giving me the chance of focusing more on surviving the traffic and trying to find the location of the shoot. I take a wrong turn down a one-way street but get back on track after checking my map quickly, even making it to the place where the shoot is early.
Parking in the shade on the far side of the lot, I text the address to Steel before hopping off my bike and searching out one of Teddy’s assistants. The carpark is half full with models enjoying the standard breakfast of cigarettes and coffee while all the other staff are running around organising and setting up.
I think I get about two steps before all my internal alarms go off. The warning comes so suddenly I almost trip over my own feet as I get on the defensive. All the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, my stomach bottoms out, and my heart goes off like a rocket. It’s such a weird feeling because while I have no idea about what’s going on all my Alpha senses are going off.
I drop my bag to my feet freeing up my hands in case it is a fight heading my way, and I’m twisting behind me searching out shadows when a Range Rover pulls into the lot. And instead of my internal alarms shutting off now that the threat’s right in front of me, they get louder, and the only thing I focus on is a drop dead fucking honey parking.
She’s got a wild mane of long blonde hair; it spills around her shoulders framing her face. Even though most of her face is covered by a cherry red pair of sunglasses that match her cherryred lips, you just know she’s a stunner. Her lips that look like they’d promise fucking heaven to a dying man.
And then she flicks her sunnies off her face and rests them on her head. Goddamn she’s got the bluest pair of eyes I’ve seen on a person. She’s distracted, looking my way but not seeing me. Faint crease lines on her forehead confirm she’s concentrating on something. Her hands wave around like she’s frustrated.
Two beefy Alphas get out of a car that pulls up next to her and my stomach drops in disappointment but a woman as fucking gorgeous as she is wouldn’t be without a pack, or without Alphas.
It’s weird though, they don’t rush to open her door like packed Alphas usually do. Instead, they spread out and each take a protective stance. The scene finally clicks, they’re bodyguards. And once she twists around to face the front again, I see the reason why. Jesus fucking hell I’m slow at putting all the pieces together today. I’m doing a photoshoot with Tristan Cameron.
Tristan Cameron is fast on her way to being one of those models forever immortalised as one of the iconic faces of the industry. I knew we were signed by the same agency, I just never figured we’d get to do a job with each other because she’s upper shelf and I’m mid at best.
I watch like a stalker because she’s oblivious to the fact and all it does is allow me to study her better. And she’s as stunning to watch as she is in looks, the way she moves is like flowing water. The way she talks, her facial expressions change constantly, and she uses her hands for emphasis.
Even though I can’t hear a word she’s saying, the way she holds my focus, it’s like I’m in the car with her. When she laughs it’s huge—she throws her head back without a care in the world and I end up smiling, chuckling under my breath because her happiness is infectious.
And then it hits me, or maybe the realisation I’m gawking hard at her, smiling like I’ve only got half a brain is what pulls me out of the moment. I nearly look away but she’s so fucking captivating.
I make out the exact moment she finishes the call; it’s easy to see because it causes another flip in her mood and posture, like she’s an actor who’s walked off set. After a quick check of her lipstick, she reaches across to grab her bag with one hand, opening the door with the other.
I’m immediately pissed she’s not being more aware of her surroundings, not even bothering to look out the windscreen before she opens the door.
That train of thought evaporates. Actually, everything in my head disappears when I get the smallest hit of her scent and then the only thing I can focus on is getting more of her scent because that warning and premonition from before comes careening back towards me like a bullet.
Bubble-gum. God, it’s so fucking sugary sweet my mouth waters. Even over the distance, I’m swamped by raspberry, strawberry, orange and musk and vanilla so real I can taste her on my tongue. Her bubble-gum scent takes me backwards to memories of happy times, another lung full of her unique scent promises me even better times ahead. It is that potent.
Without knowing I’ve taken a step, I’m walking. Straight to her. And the only reason I realise I’m on the move is when I get stopped by an Alpha shoving a hand into my chest as he blocks my way.
“What?” I slap his hand away.
“What is fucking right. Take a step back,” he murmurs. And the cockhead talks softly, making me have to lean down to double check he said what he said.
He purposely spoke too quietly, diverting my attention to him instead of her. The threat in his voice and the look in hiseye has all the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Because of what he did though it pisses me off and gets me ready to knock his fucking head off in the blink of an eye.
I rock back on my heel, my hands fisting at my side and the flash of adrenaline in my system has me cracking my neck to ease the tension and to limber up.
“Hey, hey!” A female voice rushes towards us from the opposite side of the lot. I swing around to figure out what the hell’s going on, since I’ve clearly lost my mind and my sense of self preservation.
I learnt hard and fast: you don’t rush people until you know what’s going on. But the cloud of sweetness that descended over me like a fog robbed me of any insight and kicked the world out of alignment.
The wind shifts or stirs, I seriously don’t know, but my Alpha has to have more of her sweet scent and the only thing keeping me from what I want are these fucking guards.
In the middle of the shit storm raining down on my senses and sensibility, I miss the momentshemoves. I do not miss the way she touches me though, because her touch not only sears but the symphony of imagined drama and crazy noise that accompanies it all in my head vanishes, leaving me doe eyed and completely bewildered by the way her hand looks resting on my arm.
“You good there? Big Tom can be a goddamn menace, but he’s got a good heart.” Tristan’s up close in my space, her voice loud enough to be heard over the other side of the street, but I also know all her attention is homed in on me.
And up this close I’m all ass over tit again on the inside. Because where I thought she had pretty eyes before, now I’m lost, adrift in the sparkling of a hundred or so different versions of blue in her eyes. So fucking lost.
A small squeeze on my arm, “Are you one of the photographers today?” Her question blows her scent over my face.
And then I realise one huge fucking thing about Tristan Cameron that I completely forgot: she’s an Omega.
She’s a fucking Omega which is why she smells so fucking delicious.
