Evander
By Friday afternoon, I’m starting to suspect Cassie is actively avoiding me.
Not in a dramatic way or in the please leave me alone forever way she’s done before, but in the irritatingly polite way she does everything.
She’s been busy all week. Everyone has. Between preparing for her first big shoot and dealing with the disaster it became, I’ve understood.
Half her department have been running around like headless chickens, and the other half have been scrambling for solutions.
Cassie fell somewhere between the two. I’ve caught glimpses of her as I’ve been doing my audits.
A flash of brown hair disappearing into a meeting room.
A glimpse of her walking beside Harlan, carrying enough files to constitute a workplace safety violation.
Once, I saw her through a glass wall laughing at something Isaac said before she realised I was looking and immediately hid her beautiful face from me.
I’ve deliberately kept my distance, wanting to give her the space she needs, even if every part of me resents it.
But my newfound patience has limits, and I’m coming to the end of them.
I’ve had no real alone time with her since the gala last weekend, and clearly, something about that night has been weighing on her.
Which is why I’m standing outside her office now like a pathetic boy gathering the courage to see the perfect girl.
The weekend starts in less than an hour, even for her, and I’m determined to monopolise a bit of her time before we leave.
It’s the only option I have, unfortunately, because if I don’t see her before Monday, I might actually become unbearable. Isaac’s already sick of me, and I doubt my sister will be any happier if I move my moping to her place.
I raise my hand and knock against her door.
“Come in!” Her response is immediate, full of bright energy and happy vibes.
It warms my fucking soul in a way I’m not prepared for.
I grin before I even open the door, and when I do step inside, she catches my eye and beams.
Literally fucking beams.
Green eyes bright.
Cheeks pink.
Wearing a kind of smile that hits me somewhere embarrassingly close to the heart.
“Van!” She jumps off her chair, rounds the desk faster than I can blink, and the teetering she’s doing is only slightly dangerous in those giant fucking heels.
Her scent perfumes the air, soft and sweet, immediately easing something tight in my chest.
Fuck.
She shouldn’t affect me as much as she does, but I savour the hold she has on my soul.
I’d let her keep every piece of me she’s stolen.
“Hi, daisy,” I murmur, and she laughs, her grin wild and free.
Fuck, is this what she looks like without stress dragging her down?
Then she does something completely unexpected.
She launches herself across her office floor and into my arms like she trusts me to catch her.
For half a second, my brain stops functioning. Then, my body realises there’s a tiny, perfect omega wrapped around it and reacts in the most inappropriate way.
My scent pushes forth, instinctively reaching for hers, and I wrap my arms around her just as tight as she’s holding me.
She nuzzles her face into my chest, taking a deep breath as she settles there, and I’m not sure which of us is purring louder.
I shift ever so slightly, moving my growing member away from her so she doesn’t realise the effect she’s having on me, but I don’t relinquish my hold on her.
Her joy, her brightness, is intoxicating, and I could stand here in her embrace forever, being chosen by her for nothing more than this.
She purrs louder, and I brush a soft kiss against the top of her head in retaliation.
“Thank you,” she murmurs softly. So softly I nearly miss it.
“You don’t need to thank me, little daisy. In fact, you should mark me down for this kind of greeting every time,” I say, only half-teasing.
She squeezes me tighter, rubbing her cheek against my shirt again, scent marking me with her sweetness. Every coherent thought immediately leaves my body.
Mine.
Mine likes me.
Mine is voluntarily touching me.
Mine—
“I’m not thanking you for this,” she says with a hint of a pout in her words.
“Then…” I trail off, not sure what to say.
She squeezes me harder, and it’s adorable how delicate her hold actually is.
“Thank you, Van!” she exclaims before pulling back so I can see her beautiful face once more.
Her eyes are twinkling under the light, her nose red from where she’s rubbed it across my shirt so many times.
My smile widens automatically, and I bask in her warmth and adorableness. I swear, she’s like a little cat right now.
“You’re welcome.”
I have absolutely no idea what I’m being thanked for, but I don’t care.
She’s happy.
She’s hugging me.
Life is good.
“It was perfect and exactly what I needed,” she says, taking my hands in hers to squeeze them again. “Honestly, that’s the best gift I have ever received. Thank you, Van, thank you.”
My grin falters, and I have to smooth out the frown threatening to appear.
It? Best gift?
What the fuck is she going on about?
We talked, and I thought we came to an understanding.
“It was?” I hum, hoping I sound thoughtful and not completely fucking confused.
Or angry, because that’s the last thing I need to be right now.
She nods eagerly, gesturing to her nest with a grin. “I took it home with me yesterday, of course, but then brought it back today. I can’t bear to be apart from it.”
I peer at the nest, still not sure what I’m meant to be seeing. All I can imagine is myself in the nest with her, cuddling into her side, surrounded by all the blankets and pillows to her heart’s content.
Her nest is that of a typical omega, and nothing really stands out as something I could’ve given her.
It’s full of blankets, pillows, and different soft fabrics. There’s cute little fairy lights entwined around the edge, and cute stars hanging from the makeshift ceiling. The only thing out of place is—fuck.
“The blanket,” I say sharply, spotting it immediately now that I know what I’m looking for.
Rather than being one of her standard soft, fuzzy ones, this one stands out immediately.
The blanket is made up of dozens of swatches sewn together into some kind of pattern.
I’m not as technical as my mate is when it comes to the actual materials, but I bet they’re organic or some shit for her to be this excited about.
She nods excitedly. “Yes. Honestly, Van, it’s the best thing I’ve ever gotten. The amount of thought and care that you’ve put into this is crazy. I don’t think I’m worth it, but you picked…”
She trails off, and I realise I’ve been growling under my breath the entire time she’s been raving about this. The smile has dropped from my face, and I’m no longer someone she’s excited to be around.
My scent is dark and thick, and her own immediately starts souring around the edges.
Fuck.
Calm your shit, Ev.
“This came yesterday?” I ask, and she nods warily.
“I didn’t even know they could make something like that. The fabrics are beautiful, and it was so thoughtful, and—”
Cold certainty settles in my stomach. I didn’t buy her a blanket. I didn’t make her a blanket.
It was never something that even crossed my mind to get for her, for crying out loud.
But it should’ve been.
Anger twists inside me viciously, and I grasp onto that rather than the shame.
The embarrassment.
Who the fuck bought her a blanket? Who the fuck is bringing my fucking mate a courting gift?
Very slowly, I set my hands on her shoulders and move her backwards. I don’t want her in the crossfire.
“What’s wrong, Van?”
She bites her lip, and I’m torn between tugging it from between her teeth and kissing it better and snarling at her for being so silly to think I’d get her something so pedestrian.
Fucking hell.
I’m a prick. She loves this blanket, and I’m being a cunt because I didn’t get it for her.
Because I no longer get the praise from her for this.
Cassie’s smile falters. The excitement is still there, bright and genuine, but confusion has crept in around the edges now, uncertainty softening her expression.
“I thought…” She glances towards the nest, looking at the blanket with an edge of concern. “I thought it was from you. Was it… it wasn’t, was it?”
Fuck.
The disappointment in her scent hits me immediately, the sweetness dulling enough to make my chest ache. I hate myself for being the cause of it.
Hate the bastard who bought this for her and ruined her day.
“I didn’t send you a blanket, daisy.”
She blinks, her scent souring enough that the cream smells off, the strawberries verging on rotten.
“Oh.” The disappointment in that single word somehow makes me feel worse.
Her shoulders drop slightly. Not because she wanted a gift from me specifically—I refuse to examine why that thought irritates me—but because she’d clearly spent the last twenty-four hours believing I was worthy.
And now I’ve just proven her wrong for believing it.
My jaw tightens, and I direct my rage at the only person I can—the person who sent her this blanket.
To the cunt who thought he could send my omega a courting gift.
The possessive part of my brain is having a completely normal reaction to that information.
Which is to say, it’s currently planning several murders.
I force a slow breath through my nose. “Can I have a look at it?”
She nods and grabs it from her nest with no delicacy or care. I know that she’s been treasuring this since she got it—she’s made that abundantly clear.
And yet, now, it’s like it’s tarnished. Ruined.
It’s soft and a little weightier than I thought it would be. I bring it to my nose and inhale, my shoulders loosening immediately as the combined scents of my pack wash over me.
The blanket smells like her pack—not that I think she knows it.
I recognise my own, and Isaac’s, of course. Harlan’s never allowed me to scent him, the terrified little alpha that he is, and Silas’s scent is another that I’ve yet to come across, but the two of them are here, plain as day.
One is warm brioche and honeyed citrus, the other black tea and sweet fig.
Together, we smell like a warm kitchen at breakfast time. Hot coffee, food on the counter, and warmth.