Gold Rush (Golden Omegaverse #1)

Chapter 11 – June

CHAPTER ELEVEN

JUNE

I have no idea how I ended up in a clothing store.

One second Seth and I were in the backseat of the town car where I finally found the courage to ask about the laundry room, and in the next, the car was stopping on a street row full of shops. Seth dragged me into one of them, and now I’m here and there’s a very chipper beta associate fawning over me and showing me rack after rack of clothes in my size.

I didn’t even know I could buy things off the rack in London.

I’ve always been above the standard size range in stores, but this one has a plethora of options, from jeans and trousers to shirts that actually encompass the expanse of my chest.

It helps that the other workers are eating up Seth’s presence. He waltzed in with all the confidence in the world, and I don’t know how he manages to command a room so well.

“What about something like this?” The associate helping me holds up two different options of pants, and I consider them. One is a tighter pair of jeans, while the other pair of trousers look similar to the loose fitting ones I brought from home.

I nod toward the trousers, reaching out to touch the fabric on instinct. They’re very soft. “I like these.” Reaching for the tag to see what the damage will be, I startle when the associate jerks them away.

“Sorry, your boyfriend said not to let you look.” She gives me a sheepish look. “I’ll just go put these in the fitting room.”

She scurries off as I turn my head slowly, eyeing Seth on one of the couches outside the fitting rooms. Boyfriend .

He raises a glass of complimentary champagne at me, his smile easy. “When do I get a fashion show?”

I scoff, striding over and plucking the glass from his hand, pointing it at him. “You…”

He leans up, his perfume washing over me. It’s light, but rich . I once went to upstate New York for a writing retreat and there had been a candy shop that made its own fresh fudge, filling the air with the smell of sugar and cocoa. It comes off him in waves, sweet and decadent — dangerous .

My eyes flutter as I try to control myself, and Seth only grins even wider.

“Me?” He reaches out, sliding his hand over mine. “Yes, June? What were you saying?” My name on his lips is sinful, soft and whispered, full of promise.

I stutter as his warm fingers ease the glass from me. “Um…”

He beams, taking his champagne back and downing it before nodding behind me at the fitting rooms. “Go try on what you like. Indulge me.” Flushing, I stand over him for a moment. His hand brushes my hip, his head tilting as he looks up. “I want to do this for you.”

“Okay,” the word escapes. I extract myself, stepping back so I’m not inhaling lungfuls of him as I bite my tongue. “We’re still getting lunch, right?”

Seth leans back on the couch, lounging like a king. “Yes, I got us a reservation around the corner. Don’t rush. They know me, and our table will be there when we get there.”

I cast him one more look as I back up, pressing my lips together and trying to hide the thrill that gives me. He took care of it. There’s no reason to hurry — and my eyes flicker around the store, at the other racks I’ve not even glanced at yet. I could buy things here — a piece of two at least — with how well my book sales have been this quarter.

I’ve never indulged, but there’s something about Seth that makes me want to.

I lose count of how much I try on and how often the associate comes into the back with new items. There’s a rack that’s been filled, emptied, and filled again near the mirror where I’ve been surveying myself. Beside it is a small pile of clothes I genuinely like, and that got nods of approval from Seth when I stepped out and showed him.

He’d bitten his fist when I’d walked out in a pair of jeans that hugged my hips, and a cranberry red v-neck sweater made of cashmere. I’d laughed all the way back to the fitting rooms.

Touching a brown dress on the rack, I stare at it, uncertain. The associate brought it to me and I scoffed because when would I need a dress this nice? It has a fitted bodice and puffed sleeves, which I’d never pick for myself. But the color is deep, almost mahogany, and I find myself pulling it off the hanger before I fully realize it, sliding it over my head and glancing at myself in the mirror.

It fits , and it’s beautiful.

If the tour wasn’t on hold, I’d wear it in a heartbeat. The fabric drapes perfectly, skimming my hips, giving me a silhouette that screams quietly luxurious. Even without shoes on, it looks like it belongs on me.

My heart tugs as I smooth my fingers over the dress, knowing there’s no way I can get it home without ruining the fabric. The thought is sobering — all of this is so temporary. My first heat will hit, I’ll make it through it — and then what?

I’ll be able to book a hotel, or fly back home. This time will fade to a memory of the two weeks I spent in a townhouse in London with men who doted on me.

My eye is drawn to the bodice, hugging my chest and showing off my cleavage, just enough to be tantalizing and flattering. Pulling my hair to the side, I reach back, trying to get to the zipper so I can at least see it fully on, but my fingers fumble, unable to reach it. There are pockets though, and I grin at myself in the mirror, sticking my hands into them experimentally.

It would look really nice with a gold necklace. I can’t lie to myself. Extracting my hands, I skim my collarbone, picturing it — the life I could have in this dress, with the man outside.

It would be beautiful too. Life would be full of moments like this, full of dresses and dinners and smiles exchanged. It would be full of laughter — I just know it would, because already my heart feels tethered to Seth, our souls recognizing each other.

I’ve always wanted more. More from my parents who have been so focused on others their entire lives — whether that’s believing in a god who ordains designations as better than others, or themselves, trying to make connections and friends they feel are worthwhile and powerful.

Seth’s attention feeds a part of my brain that can’t help but preen. I don’t know if I should be upset or not that I’m so easily swayed — maybe the other alpha, Theo, is right. Maybe I’m only a silly omega, a stranger getting swept into a lifestyle I’ll never be a part of.

I smooth the dress down self-consciously, hearing my mother’s voice in the back of my mind.

“ Betas like us aren’t meant for the things the world gives alphas and omegas. You’ve never been small, Juniper, you’ve never been meant for anything more than what you are. You’ll do well to remember your place. No alpha is going to give you a second look when they have a prettier, petite omega out in the world, meant for them. ”

It’s biology. It’s always been — but now, more than ever — I understand the difference.

But she was wrong.

I am an omega — I could be meant for more. I could deserve it.

There’s a sharp inhale, and I whirl, the skirt flaring out as I stare straight at Bennett as he lingers in the doorway, in a pair of navy trousers with a white button up. His hands clench next to his sides as I’m hit with the vibrant smell of freshly peeled oranges, the citrus scent overpowering and potent.

He stares at me, sucking in a breath as his shoulders square.

“I—” Fidgeting, I turn around quickly, facing the mirror again. “I can’t reach the zipper.”

“I’ll do it.” His voice is deeper, huskier as I watch him stride toward my back in the mirror. He slows to a stop, his dark hand grazing the brown fabric. It disappears behind me, and I’m rewarded with the warmth of his fingertips as they glide over my bare spine as he grasps the zipper.

My skin burns, goosebumps rising as he eases the zipper up. My heart roars in my ears as the dress comes together.

“There’s a clasp.” His voice is soft, ragged as the pads of his fingers brush my neck, pushing baby hairs away as he hooks the dress shut.

His head tilts in the mirror and I watch, holding my breath as he bends down. His nose barely brushes my exposed throat — but it’s enough. My perfume explodes , filling the fitting room area with the rich, sugared scent of honey, a tang of herbal tea undercutting it, mixing with the smell of citrus — reminding me of quiet early mornings, curling up with a good book in a comfortable seat.

Bennett’s head dips closer, and then his nose is touching me, right at the junction where my neck and shoulder meet. Vague memories of scent marking blink through my brain — when alphas want to make sure others can smell them on an omega. His eyelashes flutter in the mirror, his pupils wide as they rise, meeting mine.

“You look beautiful.”

I flush, my cheeks bright under the lights as I look down, fidgeting with the skirt. My fingers grab handfuls of it, crushing the expensive fabric. “Thank you.” I laugh nervously. “I don’t have anywhere to wear it. It’s silly — I shouldn’t get it.”

“Buy it.” His firm tone makes me look back up sharply. “I’ll make sure you have somewhere to wear it.”

The heat from his body, from his gaze on mine, makes my brain fizz as he reaches around, touching my wrist. I let go of the fabric immediately as his fingers slide down, over my hand, his voice raw. “Juniper —”

I shiver, my heart ricocheting in my chest. Is it always going to feel like this? I was nervous around the alpha in the bookstore this morning, but this… is something else. This makes me want to shed my own skin and crawl into his.

Bennett opens his mouth.

“Oh!” The associate from before skitters to a stop, staring at us. She takes a step back. “The dress fits! Good!” She hesitates, looking back, “I — your boyfriend said to wear something you’d like so I was coming to take the tags off.”

I shake myself out of the haze as Bennett steps away. The crowding presence of his scent fades enough that I can think, and I turn, giving the associate what I hope is a grateful look.

“I’ll just wear the jeans and the cranberry sweater out, if that’s alright?”

“Yes.” The associate rushes to agree. “Let me take their tags and go ring it up. Will you be taking this dress?”

Bennett answers before I can. “Yes.” He dips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a black card, motioning it to the associate as his eyes move back to me. “Ring it all up on this.”

My skin prickles as she takes his card, and then Bennett touches my shoulder. He turns me, sparks dancing across my body as he mutters, “Let me unzip you.” His fingers deftly unhook the top of the dress, and then slide the zipper down, exposing my skin again.

Swallowing, I glance at us in the mirror, muttering, “Thank you.”

He nods. “I’ll —” He clears his throat. “I’ll be out with Seth, he invited me to lunch —”

“Okay.” I interrupt him. “I’ll be right out.”

He all but runs from the fitting room and I make my way over to the pile of clothes, slipping off the dress to let the associate take it. She hasn’t blinked at my bra or underwear this entire time, but as I reach for the jeans, she glances at them.

“You know, I think we have a selection of intimates in your size — if you’d like to see them.”

I look over at her and pause with my hand on the jeans, then nod. “Yes, please.”

She flashes me a little, almost knowing, smile before taking the dress and rushing off.

In less than fifteen minutes, I step out clad head to toe in new clothes. Thanking the associate over my shoulder, I pause, realizing how quiet the store is, raising my eyes to see Seth staring at me — unabashedly, with Bennett next to him. Seth’s mouth hangs open, and I flush at his expression of hunger as I step toward them both.

“I thought this would be more appropriate for lunch.”

“I’m definitely hungry.”

“ Seth ,” I laugh, letting out a little squeak as he reaches out for me, sliding his hand over the arm of the cranberry sweater, caressing the soft fabric and me . His brow furrows, and then he leans in closer, his lips twitching as he inhales.

“You smell like oranges, June.”

“I —” I flush even more, clearing my throat as I look down at my outfit, catching Seth looking between Bennett and I.

The alpha makes a strangled noise, turning. “We should go, so we don’t miss the reservation.”

“Hm.” Seth slides his arm around me, bending his head and inhaling again. “I’m going to have fun breaking the two of you. How do you feel about Italian food?”

“I like it.”

“Good, because that’s where we’re headed.”

Bennett looks back at us, his eyes soft as he takes in Seth’s arm around me, opening the door for us with one hand, and holding my myriad of shopping bags in the other — like it’s the most natural thing in the world.