I quickly assure him I most definitely will not be answering any calls. The only people who know that number are the people I work with. And Kade. You could say our relationship is kind of “work related,” since he always helps deal with my stress. Iprefer saying he’s a Beta with benefits. It’s a heck of a lot easier than dealing with the truth about Kade.
By the time I’ve showered, had a complete meltdown and fixed myself back up again, then dressed in civilian clothes, I’m feeling as good as you’d expect. And I am back to ignoring the fact I’m wearing the mark of some random Alpha on me. Well, trying to.
Another wave of emotion hits when I’m in the cab on the way to dinner. I’m so disappointed in myself, that I ended up in that situation and that I was powerless to stop it from happening. One thought snowballs into the next, and before we’ve even driven a mile, I’m squeezing my eyes shut, resting my head back. I visualize calmness, so vast and encompassing, I make sure my psyche has no choice but to be forced into a lull. An artificial one. At the same time, this is one of those cases where you have to fake it till you make it.
I stay as still and as quiet as I can, focusing on the whiteout my mind has carved for the rest of the drive, not entertaining anything but Zen.
Arriving at the small bistro around the corner from Kade’s apartment, all thoughts of Alpha bites and life failures get shoved under a Band-Aid. It’s a temporary fix, but Kade will help me as much as my manifestation exercises.
He’d help me even more if I stopped avoiding the truth we share, but I struggle to see how scent-matched Betas are what I need. I have so much left to do, and time is running out. Victor’s threats of sending my sister in my place are starting to come more often; he drops it into every threat he makes. That shit does not fly with me. Not today, not tomorrow either, so normal things like falling in love with very compatible Betas don’t get added to my to-do list.
Kade is waiting at the bar for a table to become available, and for me. Like always, my heart gallops when I see him. He is wickedly attractive, heartbreakingly so, at least to me.
His dark brown hair is still damp, and his matching whiskey-colored eyes get darker with each step I take.
I see interest in his eyes, and like always, it mirrors mine.
We’re on the same page and have been since the moment we met. What was a surprise was how quickly this Beta got under my protective shields, and my skin, despite everything.
I should push him away, and I try, but he tests everything about my life and aspirations. When I’m with him, I’m as skittish and erratic as an addict looking for a hit. When we’re apart, it’s even worse. Luckily, I’m practically an expert at pretending life is good. And I haven’t found a way of walking away from him yet, despite knowing with every bone in my body that I have to, for his sake and mine.
I’m mostly sure I’ve managed to convince him we’re onlyfriends with benefits. But it’s this, or it’s nothing, and Kade insists he will have “this” over nothing.
Tonight, more than ever, I need to lose myself in Kade. I grab his hand on the way through the crowd, and he follows without question. Need is what drives me without even saying hello first, and like always, I’m so tongue-tied by the electric buzz of our touch.
The hallway to the bathroom is busy with other patrons lining up to use it. I don’t think I can wait that long for privacy with him. Of course, Kade feels my anxiety, as if it was his own. It’s another sign this thing between us is as real as the denial I insist on. He lets my hand go but drops his onto my hips and pulls me close, so there’s no space between us, and steers us to privacy.
“Get your ass in the supply closet,” he demands. His lips ghost up and down my neck before he stops at that spot on myneck where my scent sits and bites it hard enough to bruise. “Why do you always have to be so goddamn desperate?”
A supply closet in our favorite restaurant is not a romantic place for our reunion, but today has thrown me out of alignment so hard, and fast, I feel like a top spinning out of control.
“Stop it!” he growls, keeping his mouth pressed against my skin. “You’re always like this, fighting to stay Miss Independent, when the truth is, you need me.”
This man is my very own demon slayer. I love him and hate him for it. He crowds around me, and I give in, barely stopping the truth from spilling out of my mouth.I do need you. I need you so much. Please don’t be kind. I don’t deserve it for the way I lie to you. Treat me mean, and let me fill my lungs, and my memory, with your heavenly cinnamon scent until we meet again, my sweet scent-matched mate. See, there’s nothing out of the ordinary happening today, babe, just me pretending like always.
“Tell me, Quinny.” He snarls my nickname, interrupting my inner monologue. He says my name in a way that doesn't sound sweet, and I melt for him more. Because, somehow, he just knows.
“Tell me!” he demands as my thoughts try to drag me down again.
“I’ve been thinking about your come for days,” I whisper, staring down at my feet.
He renders me this way. Every hookup or stolen moment we share, I purposely dance around the truth about what our relationship is. In my mind, our time together is more important than some long-winded discussion that would only be full of heartache and misery.
“I haven’t thought about you since the last time I fucked you,” he lies, like the beautiful, sweet Beta he is.
He grabs at me, rubbing a hand down my clothes and over my body. His touch is forced; he’s pretending to be harsh and unfeeling, leaving me chasing my breath and craving more. He stops when I’m about to whine and reaches past me to the door to the supply closet, opening it and getting us inside and away from the crowd.
The door closes, and before I can blink, his lips are on mine. I whimper as he licks his way inside my mouth with a confidence not often seen in a Beta.
Kade has never been intimidated by his designation. Maybe that’s why us being like this is so effortless. Or it’s just his willingness to make this work for me—in turn, us—every damn time.
I don’t deserve him; I can’t let him go, though. I’ve tried.
“Wrap those legs around my waist,” he orders on a low snarl. He’s rough when he pushes me up against the wall, leaving his hands free to push and pull our clothes out of the way.
He rubs the tip of his cock over my entrance. It feels like he is marking his territory. It’s nearly aggressive and somewhat disrespectful, but I need it, and him, more than I need air to breathe.
I hurt so much inside, my breathing hitches.
