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“Yeast I Could Do For You…” He glanced up and glared at me. “He reads that kind of stuff?”

“Uh…yeah…” I pursed my lips.

“At least your taste in bottoms is consistent.” He sniffed imperiously and went back to scribbling. “Points for taste.”

“Listen. I—I don’t mean for this to be awkward—” I cleared my throat.

“Well, it is. But I’m not mad about it.” Mesmer continued scribbling for a second before holding his hand out. “Book.”

“Hmm?” I froze.

“The book you used. We need to find out if he’s a type one or two omega.” He stared at me as I fished around my belongings and found the copy of the book we’d used and handed it over wordlessly.

“I don’t know the types.” I cleared my throat.

“Type one is a standard omega, and gives birth the natural way.” Mesmer ticked something off. “Type two has evolved to self-cesarean.”

“Type two.” I cleared my throat. “That’s what I changed. I told you.”

“Ah. There was no type two before. I take it he was unhappy with the particular method of exit?”

“Correct.” I stared at the floor.

“Well, we differ in that much.” Mesmer closed his notebook and looked up, tucking the book away into a jacket pocket without a word.

“Well, that’s nice to know, I suppose.” I huffed, and Mesmer gave me a lingering glance. “Do you know how many archivists and philosophers would kill to have his gift. People envy Ville, but he cannot change another.” Mesmer sighed. “But he changed you.”

“There’re dozens of others that are requisitors.” Saying it aloud and waiting as silence followed let my mind wander to how many requisitors could bring others into a book and change them. “But none that can change another. I didn’t even think of that…”

“Mm-hmm.” He swung his legs off the edge of the table, a carefree gesture that didn’t fit his stature.

“So, this visit. It’s less about the baby and more about… Securing Lexi as a pawn.” I sighed in almost relief.

“You got it!” Mesmer used the edge of the notepad’s cover to clean under an errant nail, the matte nail polish chipping at the edge as he did so. His bored expression turned into a sneer as he clicked his tongue. “Ugh.”

Before I could say anything, he fished around in his pockets and pulled out a bottle of nail polish and a file. “Jess is here, at least.”

“You can afford an esthetician, you realize?” I raised a brow.

“And miss an opportunity to abuse my power and position?” He raised a perfectly sculpted brow at me.

The trembling in my facial muscle just beneath my eye heralded the realization that I definitely had a type. “Why is it hot when you do shit like that?”

Mesmer shrugged.

I rubbed a palm over my face and sighed, flinching when Mesmer reached over to give my head a single, gentle pat. He leaned in, squinting. “Well, if your taste in men hasn’t changed, keep him away from safety pins.”

I pulled away. “You’re not picking at me! Leave my blackheads alone!”

“Just a little pick? Come on!” He grinned, eyes brightening, and I stood, ready to bolt as he scampered after me and started tugging at my shirt.

“Hell no!” I struggled as he tugged and wrestled with me.

“Come on, for old time’s sake? Just one little bitty one? Off with the shirt!” He backed me against a wall, and I nearly jumped out of my skin as a soft ahem interrupted the moment. The seething violence in Lex’s fierce eyes made my heart flutter.

“Lex! Fuck. It’s not what it looks like.” I pushed Mesmer away and straightened up my shirt.

“What does it look like?” Jess peered in over his shoulder, eyes wide and expression twisted into a mou of thrill.