He laughs but his attention is being syphoned away. A female voice rises in the background. I hang up, sparing him the request for privacy he’ll inevitably ask for. When he’s ready, he’ll call back. And I’m fine staying on the periphery; the love of his life takes priority. Always has, always will. It’s essentially the mantra of life as a lawyer: your client is the focus; you facilitate whatever they need.
I accept the paperwork for the hire from the overworkedcustomer service officer, ignoring his lack of attention. Instead, I focus on the unspoken understanding between us—we’re all just trying to get out of here as quickly as possible.
“Mr. Torres,” the man says, drawing my attention back to the car he’s trying to point out. “Yours is the second vehicle. The first car has a sick Omega in it. She’s fine, just has the flu, but I wanted to let you know so you don’t get sick yourself. It’s not the best way to start the New Year.”
“I appreciate the head’s up.” I nod, but he’s already attempting to soothe the impatient woman behind me.
Koz texts, estimating how long he thinks I’ll be on the road. The hours will pass quickly with the number of case files demanding my attention. I respond one-handed, completely distracted by my task, but still nod absently to the driver holding the door open.
I sit and he shuts the door.
And life as I know it changes in the blink of an eye.
The sheer impact of coming face to face with such a scent-compatible Omega shatters my logic—and glues me to my seat. She doesn’t move a muscle, and the only sound, aside from the heavy thud of my heart, is the faint wheeze every time she exhales.
I can’t do or say a thing, the driver pulls into traffic. Honestly, it takes me until we’re merging onto the freeway before I can drag my eyes off her face.
She lets out a small, pained groan when the car takes a wide turn, and every cell in my body zeroes in on one goal—doing whatever I can to make her as comfortable as possible.
My earliest memories have always been consumed by method and process, but everything flies out the window as I am overcome by emotion. Which is as daunting as realising in the space of the next second, I’ve picked her up so she’s on my lap, my arms wrapped protectively around her.
This near, her cookies and cream scent is heavenly obnoxious.I’d be a broken man if my first hit of her scent hadn’t been diluted by her sickness. Even so, when she curls her legs up, pulling herself deeper into my lap and burying her nose into the crook of my neck, I already pine for her—knowing our time is limited.
Never in my life has something felt so natural. Or so daunting. Well, in truth, it has been a long, long time since I faced something as challenging as this.
She must be half my age. Although looking down at her, I think my initial assumption of her age was skewed by the deep shadows under her eyes. Either way, I’m still older than her.
The car rocks us both and the motion seems to draw her back into a deeper sleep. I can’t seem to lose the urge to hold and comfort her, so I settle into the corner and with one hand manage to open the side compartment and draw out a heavy blanket.
Her body grows heavier, and every now and then, her wheeze gives way to a soft sigh. The sounds she makes ease my tension, allowing reality to seep back in. I didn’t speak up earlier. I didn’t stop this. I’m willing, complicit even, in her ‘abduction.’ It sounds overly dramatic, but by the letter of the law, it is simply fact.
Freeing my hand, I manage to reach for the phone for the driver.
“We have a small issue. Can you please contact your employer and find out more details on the passenger that should have been in that vehicle.”
“Of course, sir. Would you like me to stop while I wait for that information or continue driving?”
As if hearing his words, she tries to sway my decision—reaching under my suit jacket, her grip tightening around my side. Clinging to me like a barnacle.
I wish I had no morals because I would happily feigninnocence, or plead for mercy, but as hard as it is to confess, I’m driven by an urge to protect her. It flames so bright it singes any question in my mind. Protecting her means getting her medical help.
“Pull over. We have another passenger. She’s sick. I’m happy if you call me another car so you can rush her to her destination or the nearest medical facility.”
Our position on the freeway, and in the traffic, means it takes a few minutes for him to find a safe place. I allow myself the time to soak in her sweet, gentle presence.
Hand on heart, even without seeing the colour of her eyes or hearing the sweet cadence of her voice, I know sheisentirely perfect.
The way she smells is a stark reminder of the last time I met my scent perfect mate, and the both of us nearly died.
Chapter
Four
SIMONA
My eyes fly open. I have no clue where I am. I’m sick. Judging by the way I feel, I think I might be the sickest I have ever been. Each bone in my body aches. A headache thuds in time with my heartbeat.
The light is way too bright, and I slam my eyes shut to escape the misery. Whimpering in pain.
