I don’t want to go. I want to stay here, rooted to my seat, and breathe in more of Maeve’s scent.
Even if I have to watch her hold Ivan’s hand all night, it would be worth it.
This is the mostaliveI’ve felt in months.
Then, Maeve does something devastating.
She pouts.
It’s absurd. My stomach drops at her displeased expression, and my Alpha howls in agony.
She’s not my Omega.
She’s not my girlfriend.
Is she even my friend, yet?
Besides, how old is she?
She has to be in her mid twenties at the most. Like hell she wants some forty-year old packless Alpha lusting after her.
“Damn, already?” Ivan asks. “Come on, what could you possibly have to do? Finish your pigeon article?”
“Rock doves,” I correct him. “And yes, along with feeding the cats.”
“Oh!” Maeve says. “Don’t keep Stella and Trooper waiting.”
There’s a warm sensation in my chest at her remembering my cats’ names.
It makes it even more difficult to leave her, but I force myself out of the booth and glance at her and Ivan one last time.
“See you later,” I say, and Maeve waves at me while Ivan murmurs a goodbye.
As I walk away, I hear Maeve let out a delighted laugh and try not to be bitter about it.
You’re not dating.
She’s not your Omega.
My Alpha instincts have been dormant for so long that I started to believe they didn’t exist anymore.
But ever since I caught that sweet chamomile scent, I’ve been fighting primal, savage urges.
I’m at my car, hoping the ache in my cock will disappear, when I catch another deep whiff of her, along with the sound of frantic footsteps.
Now my brain is fucking with me, making me imagine things?—
“Logan? Wait!”
Maeve stands in front of me, panting in the cold night air.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her. “Are you okay? Where’s Ivan?”
At that, she chuckles. “Back inside.”
“Did you run out here?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“Yeah, I…” She chews the inside of her cheek, and I watch her, confused. My hand stays frozen on my car door, unable to move under her gaze.
