His hand is somehow on my hip. The opposite on my arm as he stares down at me in concern. “You all right, little bee?”
I sway, dizzy from his nearness. And… and the realization that this male… this male ismy scent match.
Is that why Gio sent him here? Did he somehow know?
“Aurora?” Noah whispers, his voice low and edged with an emotion that’s difficult for me to define. There’s no way this deadly male is worried about me. Or even cares about me. That’s not how the crime world works.
If he’s my brother’s enforcer, then our scent match doesn’t even matter. He’s not high enough in the organization to claim an omega of my standing.
My father would have him executed, actually.
And Gio…
What will Gio do?
He couldn’t possibly know. Unless… unless he was trying to send me a gift?
I…
A deep rumble ignites from Noah’s chest, causing me to blink.A purr. He’s purring. God, why is he purring? Alphas only do that for… for their chosen mates. Their omegas.
Me.
I’m his…
Oh, fuck…
I close my eyes and try to find my brain. It’s somewhere inside me. Somewhere hidden beneath the toxicity of this instant bond. This need. This…Ugh!
Pretty sure I growl out loud.
When the alpha stills in front of me, I’m certain I did.
Yet he continues to purr. Which both infuriates me and delights me at the same time. “Can you… stop?” I ask, hating that it sounds like I’m begging. Because I feel helpless. His cinnamon aroma is overwhelming. And I swear there’s a note of hot honey beneath it all.
Which matches my own scent.
Brown sugar and honey. Like a damn bakery, one that has only heightened in power since my eighteenth birthday.
Sometimes being an omega is frustrating.
Scratch that. Being an omega isalwaysfrustrating.
Especially right now as my body sways toward the dangerous man and not away from him. All because my instincts are telling me to rub up against him like a cat in heat.
That’s enough,I tell myself.This is not happening.
Noah must agree because his purr ceases. Or maybe that happens because I asked him to stop. Not sure.
“Want me to get your bag?” he asks, his voice deep and slightly accented. Not Italian, though. More… Irish.
Which is strange.
The mob doesn’t usually associate with the mafia.
But maybe he’s just from Ireland? Or has an Irish parent?
It’s not a very thick accent, so I suppose anything is possible.
