And that honesty is dangerous.
Because the truth is, I wouldn’t be too upset if he wanted to pretend this was real. If he wanted to treat me like the omega I’ve always tried so hard not to be. Every instinct in my body aches to be taken care of, to rest in that role, but my past has trained me to distrust those instincts, to keep them locked away where they can’t hurt me.
I shake my head, forcibly banishing the thought before it can sink its claws any deeper. I dry off and wrap a towel around my waist, stepping out of the bathroom in search of clean clothes.
Chapter Ten
Aksel
“I think we can all say with absolute certainty that you’re very protective of Hale Aka, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am,” Aksel replies easily. “He’s my omega. Any halfway decent alpha would be.”
“Yes, but for someone who’s been married for such a short time, you act as though you’ve been together for years. According to our records, the two of you weren’t even a couple when you appliedfor the show,” the interviewer presses, blunt as ever.
“No, we weren’t together, technically,” Aksel agrees, unbothered. “You’re absolutely right about that. But I’ve always known I would end up with Hale Aka. You could say it was inevitable.” He glances at the camera and gives a deliberate, knowing wink. “Some people call that fate.”
Chapter Eleven
Hale
As I leave the bathroom, Aksel whistles at me like a shameless horndog. I roll my eyes at his playfulness as my inner omega preens at his attention. “My husband looks good.”
It's clearly meant as a joke, but the look in his eyes has my stomach clenching in anticipation. Thank the goddess for heat suppressants; I would be a puddle of need withoutthem. Face down, ass up. Begging for his alpha knot.
I glance down at my body, and I have to admit that yeah, I do look pretty good. A serious workout regimen and a fairly strict diet gave me the muscle I wished for as a scrawny teenager. Add the tattoos covering my pec, shoulder, and back, and I’d give myself a very harsh eight out of ten.
“Aren’tyoualuckykraken,”Ishootbackwitha wink.
Hiseyesdarkenedimmediately,adeepblush bloomingacrosshischeeks.Iblush,hisraptattention unnerving in a sensual way I’ve never really experienced before. I duck my head and dig through my bag, grabbing a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants from my duffel. I change quickly, locker room style. Sweats pulled on under the towel in one smooth motion. I’m tugging the shirt over my head when someone knocks at the door.
A man in a red polo with the hotel logo and black slacks wheels in a metal cart stacked high with covered dishes. The smell of savory meat makes my mouth water. Aksel tips him generously and shuts the door behind him.
As I lift one lid after another, it dawns on me that Aksel must’ve ordered one of everything on the menu. I glance up at him, eyebrow raised in askance. He shrugs, looking bashful for once.
“I wasn’t sure what youwould want.”
I can’t stop the smile tugging at my lips as I choose a steak smothered in onions and a side of asparagus. After a quick look around the small room, I decide fuck it and settle against the headboard. We can be adults about this.
Aksel grabs a couple of bottles of vodka and orange juice from the mini-fridge, mixes us drinks, then chooses a seafood dish for himself and joins me on top of the fluffy white bed.
Weeatincomfortablesilence.Itfeels…domestic.
My inner omega preens at that.
When we’re mostly done, Aksel pulls out his phone and scrolls to Nadine’s message. He shifts closer, his thigh pressing against mine as he shows me the list of questions she sent. I immediately regret skipping underwear. My hole is clenching at the close proximity of the attractive alpha.
He clears his throat.
“When did we first meet? When did we fall in love? What are our favorite things about each other?” He frowns. “Seems pretty generic.”
I give him a dry look. “The answers are going to be a hot mess. When did we meet? Fourth grade. Miss Stensil’s class. You stole my seat by the window and refused to give it back. When did we fall in love? Never, so that’ll have to be fictional. Favorite things? Muscles, tattoos, winning personalities? Riveting stuff. The people are going to love us.”
Ithunkmyheadbackagainsttheheadboardand whine as only an omega can.
“Done yet?” he asks, his voice rough.
“Wedon’tevenknowwhatwe’redoing,”Ipout, stickingoutmybottomlipforemphasis.“Ihatethatwe’re
