“Rainbow,” she mulls over the term before beaming. “I like it.”
Fuck, if I woke up to that smile every day, I’d die a happy man. Then her smile dulls.
“What is it?”
“I hadn’t thought about what happens next.” She peers down at her hands. “You’re going to be leaving soon, right?”
“I…” I haven’t allowed myself to think much further ahead. I’ve been enjoying our bubble too much, not wanting it to end. “I have some obligations, but I meant what I said. You’re my scent match.”
“We’ll work it out.” She looks up at me again, determination blazing in her brown eyes. “Together.”
As her now-familiar body that I’ve spent the last few days worshipping nuzzles against me, my mind is short-circuiting. The whistling wind and hail slamming against the windows sound like warning bells, reminding me of what’s waiting beyond the glass.
Dread and anxiety chew at my insides. Even though we’ve only known each other for a few days, I’m more protective over her than I have been over anyone or anything. How will Delilah deal with the realities of my life? Would she want to come on tour with me? If she did, how would she deal with screaming fans hurling insults at her? She’s so special. She’s positive and seems to have boundless optimism, yet… my lifestyle could ruin her, then she’d end up hating me.
She may be my scent match—the omega who is made for me—but my life is a toxic dumpster fire. Am I really who she needs?
SIX
Tae
PRESENT DAY
“Going somewhere?” Nash asks as I stride through our living room, not initially seeing him sitting on the sofa.
Valerie had movers transport and unpack all our belongings before we even arrived, which means we’ve spent the last few days trying to find everything. Unfortunately, there was an “accident” involving some of our larger items, including our old sofa, which meant that Valerie sourced us replacements. I secretly think she hated our furniture so much that she planned theaccidenton purpose. Nash and Valerie’s relationship is already tense enough, so I’ve kept my suspicions to myself.
“Fucking sofa.” Nash shuffles around, trying to get comfortable. I’m doubtful he’ll have any luck. A sofa that size isn’t large enough for such a big alpha. He can’t even fully sprawl out without half his body hanging off its edge. He stands up, slumping down in the armchair in defeat instead. At least that he can fit in. “Doesn’t Val know sofas are supposed to be comfortable?”
As nice as the items she’s picked out are, I feel like I’m living in more of a movie set than a home, hitting me with a pang of homesickness for our last apartment. Sure, it was a crock of shitthat was mainly falling apart and we didn’t own a lot, but it was the first place we’d called home together.
“Be nice to Val,” I warn. “She’s done a lot for us, remember?”
“Only because she has no choice,” he mutters darkly under his breath. “Maybe she’s using uncomfortable furniture to try to remind us, yet again, that we’re not good enough of a pack for Jagger.”
“She only said that once,” I remind him, although it still stings to remember the ball of fury she unleashed when Jagger told her that he’d formed a pack. “And it was probably just the shock of it.” I’m probably giving Valerie more credit than is due, but it’s easier for me to play the peacekeeper. Jagger’s already stuck between his manager and Nash, and I’m not going to add to his problems. “But you’re right about the furniture.” I scrunch my nose. “It even smells.”
“Like fresh fucking plastic?” Nash scoffs. “Yeah, it does. Just like Valerie. Cold and synthetic.”
“At least we got to pick the house.” I point out, looking on the bright side.
Jagger insisted on buying a place. He claimed it would be easier than renting, and this way, Nash can renovate it.
Though it’s in the middle of nowhere, it’s only a short drive from Forestville and SVU. The house itself has a lot of space, but it needs a ton of work to bring it into this century.
I like how much character it has. The rustic hardwood floors, wood-beamed ceilings, and open-brick fireplace give it a welcoming feel, even though Nash says that half of it is rotting and needs replacing.
The previous owners were big doomsday preppers, so they built a separate outbuilding to stock supplies—perfect for Nash to transform into a workshop—and installed a state-of-the art security system with high-fences around the perimeter becausethey were so paranoid about being raided. It’s ideal for what we need.
Nash looks me over, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Where are you heading anyway? I thought we were going to stay in tonight.”
“Oh, me?” I smooth down my favorite faded acid-wash T-shirt and the crinkles in my loose-fitting jeans, comfy and casual. “Didn’t I say? There’s a training thing at work.”
“Work, huh.” Nash’s brow furrows, obviously not believing me but not bothering to question further as he huffs in frustration, digging a cushion out from behind him and hurling it across the room.
I’m not hiding my date with Delilah from them. I’m just not telling them about it. There’s a distinct difference. As a pack, we’ve spoken about expanding our family one day, but Jagger’s status makes dating complicated. As a relatively new pack, we’ve decided to just focus on ourselves for the time being… A vow that I may be breaking this evening.
Plus, I reason, what’s the point in saying anything when I don’t know if she’ll even show up? Despite her texting to confirm that we’ll meet outside the Tea House, I still have my doubts that someone as gorgeous as Delilah will show up. Most omegas wouldn’t even consider dating a beta, but Delilah seems… different.
