Chapter 29 – JORDAN
29
JORDAN
I stare at my reflection in the small bathroom mirror, running a hand through my damp hair. It's getting longer than I usually keep it. I should probably cut it soon. But I kind of like how it falls just above my shoulders now, softening the angles of my face in a way that should probably worry me more than it does.
I push the thought aside and get changed into some jeans and a sweatshirt Asher lent me since I didn't exactly plan on staying this long. His clean scent still clings to it, infinitely more comforting than I want to admit. I never imagined another omega's scent could make me feel so safe.
The tour bus sways gently as we idle in the parking lot, and I'm struck by how natural it feels to be here. How this tiny room has somehow become more of a home in two weeks than my sterile loft ever was. The bedding still smells faintly of honey from when Asher slept here the night before last, curled around me like he belonged there.
I "kicked him out" last night, teasing that I didn't want his pack associating my presence with their omega disappearing. He just grinned and suggested maybe I could join them sometime instead. The playful invitation shouldn't make my heart flutter, but it does. Because I know he meant it, even if he was being playful. And somehow, I think the others would be okay with it too.
Things have been different since that morning in the kitchen with Knox. He stopped disappearing whenever I enter a room. Started treating me like... well, like pack. They all do. Even Silas, who I thought would be the hardest to win over, keeps leaving coffee by my laptop when I'm working late.
It's dangerous how easy it's become. How natural it feels to exist in their orbit. But after tonight's party at PheroMaster, I'll have no reason to stay. The thought bothers me more than it should.
A knock at the door jerks me out of my spiral. "Come in," I call, already knowing who it is. Only Asher knocks like that. Three quick taps followed by two slower ones, like he's playing drums on my door.
Sure enough, his golden head pokes in, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Get dressed," he announces. "We're going shopping."
I blink at him, my hair still damp from the shower. "What? Why?"
"Because you can't wear a hoodie or sweater to tonight's party," he says in a matter-of-fact tone. "This is a super secret special assignment and dressing up is the most important part of any secret mission."
I bite my lip, trying not to smile at his enthusiasm. "I'm pretty sure James Bond never worried about his outfit choices this much."
"Then clearly he wasn't doing espionage right," Asher declares, already reaching for my hand. "Come on, we don't have all day."
I let him pull me out of the bedroom, trying to ignore how natural it feels to have his fingers laced through mine. The suppressants are working fine, but sometimes when he touches me, it's like my whole body lights up from the inside.
As we make our way toward the front of the bus, I spot Damon and Dante lounging on the couch. They both look up as we approach, matching grins spreading across their faces.
Then something shifts. Their expressions change, their gazes sharpen, and Damon visibly scents the air.
Oh, right. I'm wearing Asher's sweatshirt.
A flush creeps up the back of my neck at the reminder. What if they're pissed? Alphas are possessive of their omegas, especially with outsiders. And that's what I am, no matter how much my traitorous heart wants to deny it.
"Omega smells good on you," Dante says, flashing me a wicked grin that immediately shoots down that fear.
"It does," Damon mumbles. If I didn't know better, I'd say the huge alpha was blushing.
"These two are going to be our bodyguards for the outing," Asher says, gesturing to them with a flourish.
"More like the designated bag carriers," Dante groans, but his dark eyes are twinkling. "As usual."
"Well, what else are alphas for?" Asher asks innocently, pausing to press a quick kiss to Dante's lips. The casual intimacy of it makes my heart ache with something dangerously close to longing.
Asher and I haven't kissed since the first time, even if we have cuddled. And not just when he was in bed with me. I can tell he's trying not to come on too strong, not to scare me away.
But the truth is, I want to. I want things I have no right wanting, not when I'm still keeping two very large secrets from all of them.
But after tonight, it won't matter at all, I remind myself. There's no reason for me to stay. I've already decided that if everything goes well on this mission, I'll tell them the truth and leave the ball in their court after that. If they want me to leave, I will. If they want me to stay…
Somehow, that possibility is equally terrifying. Just not as devastating.
"I can carry my own bags," I protest weakly, but Asher's already shaking his head.
"Nope! Today you're getting the full VIP treatment," he declares. "Consider it practice for tonight where you'll be playing the part of our spoiled rotten pet."
I try not to think about tonight. About having to navigate a room full of alphas while pretending to be part of the pack. About having to get close enough to Vince and his scientists to gather intel without giving myself away.
About how much I wish this wasn't all just pretend.
"You okay?" Damon asks softly, his warm scent blooming in a comforting bouquet. At first, I was afraid the suppressants weren't working, but as far as I know, none of the alphas have seen through my farce. It must just be the close proximity. That and the fact that they all smell better than any alphas I've ever encountered before. Asher included. "We don't have to do this if you're not up for it."
I force a smile, touched by his concern. "I'm fine. Just not used to shopping trips with an entourage."
"Get used to it," Dante says cheerfully, slinging an arm around Asher's shoulders. "Our omega doesn't do anything halfway."
"Don't I know it," I mutter, but there's no bite in it. How could there be when Asher's beaming at me like I hung the moon just for agreeing to go shopping with him?
"Come on," he says, tugging me toward the door. "I know exactly where we need to go first."
"Should I be worried?" I ask Damon as we follow them off the bus.
He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "Probably. But don't worry. We'll protect you from his more... eccentric styling choices."
"My choices are perfect!" Asher calls over his shoulder. "You're just jealous you can't pull off sequins like I can."
"No one can pull off sequins like you can, baby," Dante says loyally, earning himself another quick kiss.
I watch their easy affection with a mixture of amusement and something else I can't quite name. The way they move together, the gentle touches and inside jokes... it's everything I never let myself want. Everything I convinced myself I could live without.
But being around them these past weeks has started to crack something open inside me. Something I thought I'd buried so deep it would never see the light of day.
"You're thinking too loud again," Asher says, falling back to walk beside me as we head toward the SUV that's waiting to take us to wherever they have planned. The mall, I assume. "Whatever's going on in that beautiful head of yours, let it go for a few hours. Today is about having fun."
I want to argue that we should be focusing on tonight's mission, on gathering evidence against PheroMaster. But the warmth in his eyes makes the words die in my throat.
"Okay," I say instead, letting him pull me closer. "But I draw the line at sequins."
His laugh rings out bright and clear in the morning air. "We'll see about that."
I find myself wedged between Asher and Dante in the back seat of the SUV, even though the passenger seat up front is conspicuously empty. The leather is warm against my back as I try to make myself as small as possible, which isn't easy given how broad their shoulders are.
"I can move up front," I offer, gesturing toward the empty seat. "That way you can sit by Asher."
Dante just grins, settling in more comfortably beside me. "Nah, I'm good here. Unless you're uncomfortable?"
Heat creeps up my neck at his casual tone. Like having me pressed against his side is the most natural thing in the world. "No, I'm... fine."
Asher snickers from my other side, and I shoot him a glare that only makes him grin wider. Traitor.
We're barely five minutes into the drive when someone in a red sports car cuts right in front of us. Damon slams on the brakes, laying on the horn.
"Idiot!" he growls, his scent surging with protective alpha energy.
The sudden stop sends me lurching sideways into Dante's chest. His arm comes around me instantly, steadying me against him. If it wasn't for his quick reflexes, I might have face-planted right into the center console, despite the seatbelt.
"You okay?" he asks, his earth and stone scent filling my nostrils.
I can only nod shakily. But it's not from the near miss, it's from how good he smells, how solid and warm he feels against me. His arm stays draped over the back of my seat even after I've regained my balance, his fingers absently playing with the epaulette on Asher's jacket.
This is torture. Pure, exquisite torture.
I tell myself it's just the close quarters making my head spin. That I need to look into switching suppressants again because clearly these aren't working as well as they should. But deep down, I know that's not it. It's them —all of them.
Dante's fingers brush against my shoulder as he continues toying with Asher's jacket, and I have to bite back a shiver. From the corner of my eye, I catch Asher watching us with that soft, pleased expression he gets sometimes. Like everything is going exactly according to plan.
I should move away. Should put some distance between myself and Dante's incredible scent. But I'm trapped between him and Asher, and honestly? I'm not sure I want to move even if I could.
The drive feels endless and over too quickly at the same time. When we finally pull up to an enormous department store, I'm both relieved and disappointed. Dante's arm slips away as we pile out of the SUV, and I immediately miss its warmth.
Asher holds the door for me, which I'm still not used to. Why does he—all of them, really—treat me like I'm something to be protected? Cherished?
I step into the vast department store and immediately feel out of place. The polished marble floors and gleaming displays scream luxury. Actual luxury, not the tacky, gilded brand PheroMaster is going for. Everything looks untouchable, pristine in a way that makes me want to check my shoes for dirt.
But something's off. The store is... empty.
Completely empty.
No shoppers browsing the racks, no employees hovering nearby offering assistance. Just silence and soft classical music playing through hidden speakers.
"Where is everyone?" I ask, glancing around the deserted space.
The others exchange a look that makes my stomach flip. "What?"
"Well," Damon says carefully, "the store is technically closed right now."
I blink at him. "What do you mean closed? The lights are on, the doors were unlocked..."
"I might have rented it out for the morning," Asher admits, shifting from foot to foot like a kid caught sneaking cookies. "Just for us."
"You... what?" My voice comes out embarrassingly squeaky.
"I know you don't like crowds," he explains quickly. "And shopping can be stressful enough without having to deal with people staring or trying to get autographs or whatever. I wanted you to be comfortable."
My chest feels too tight suddenly, like I can't quite catch my breath. He rented out an entire department store. For me. Because he noticed I get anxious in crowds and wanted to make this easier.
No one has ever done anything like that for me before. Not ever.
"That's..." I swallow hard, trying to find words. "That's too much. You didn't have to?—"
"I wanted to," he says simply, reaching for my hand. His fingers lace through mine, warm and steady. "Besides, it's not like we don't need to focus. We've got a mission to accomplish!"
Just like that, his whole demeanor shifts. He straightens up, putting on what I've come to think of as his "stage face", all dramatic flair and commanding presence.
"Alright troops," he announces, making Dante snicker. "Men's formal wear is on the second floor, which is where we'll find what we need for tonight's operation. But the casual section is up there too, and I've seen your wardrobe, mister." He gently pokes me in the chest with his free hand. "So we're definitely checking that out if we have time."
My heart does a somersault in my chest and it takes every ounce of composure I have not to panic visibly at the innocent gesture. I mean, he has no idea my chest isn't flat under this binder.
But that brings up other issues, like what the fuck am I going to do if he wants me to try on something in front of him? He's always left when I need to get changed on the bus or at the hotel, but a dressing room only has a curtain. I know he and the others wouldn't peek intentionally, but what if something happens or I trip or a sales associate comes in and?—
"You okay there?" Damon asks, giving me that worried look I've become so accustomed to.
"Yeah," I say, snapping out of my panic spiral. "I just… What's wrong with my wardrobe?" I protest weakly, but even I have to admit most of my clothes are chosen specifically to help me blend into the background.
"Nothing, if you're going for camouflage," Dante teases. "But you could use some variety."
"Focus, people!" Asher claps his hands together. "Mission parameters are clear—find something stunning for Alex to wear tonight that says 'mysterious new pack member' without screaming 'trying too hard.' Then, if time permits, we expand the target's fashion horizons."
"Sir, yes sir!" Dante and Damon say in unison, snapping mock salutes.
I can't help but laugh at their antics. It's hard to feel overwhelmed when they're being so ridiculous.
"The escalator awaits," Asher declares, tugging me forward. "Dante, take point. Damon, watch our six."
"You've been watching too many of those spy movies," I tell him as we step onto the moving stairs.
"Excuse you, I've been watching exactly the right amount of spy movies," he corrects primly. "How else am I supposed to know how to act at tonight's mission?"
"Pretty sure James Bond never had a shopping montage," Damon rumbles from behind us.
Asher wrinkles his nose. "Now I'm glad I never watched those movies."
As we ascend to the second floor, I find myself studying our reflection in the mirrored walls. Asher looks like he belongs here in his designer jeans and artfully distressed jacket. The alphas flank us like gorgeous, protective bookends. And me... I look small between them, drowning in Asher's borrowed sweatshirt.
But somehow, I also feel like I belong. Like I fit with them in a way I've never fit anywhere before.
The thought sends a pang through my chest. After tonight, this will all be over. Back to my solitary life of keyboards and careful distance. Back to being nobody.
But for now, I let myself enjoy this moment. Let myself pretend this could be real.