24. Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mira
I take my time finishing my shower, letting the water wash away the evidence of my desire, though nothing can cleanse my mortification. My movements are slow, deliberate, as I try to delay facing them. With each pass of the soap, I try to wash away more than just physical traces. I’m trying to clean away my weakness, my want, and my desperate desire for alphas I can't have.
What must they think of me? An omega so wanton, so desperate that I'd pleasure myself while thinking of them? Calling their names? Haven taught us that such behavior was shameful, deserving of correction. But... these three alphas didn't seem disgusted.
The opposite, in fact.
Is that because we’re mates? Does my scent call to them so intrinsically that everything is forgiven? And vice versa. Is that what all this means? It annoys me that I don’t know. I learned nothing of this in Haven and every moment since I escaped has been survival. There was no time to luxuriate with a book and it’s not like there were other omegas out there I could ask without giving myself away. The whole designation is swept away to fester in the shadows. Humanity’s dirty little secret boarded up so tight no one knows anything.
I dry off and head to my pack in the bedroom, and to the bags that line the wall. My eyes stray to a beautiful lavender sweater that peeks over the top of one of the bags. It looks impossibly soft and my fingers twitch with the urge to sink into the material. I snatch my hand back before I can touch it. I won't get carried away. Instead, I reach into my pack and pull on semi clean jeans and t-shirt - the worn cotton a reminder of what I need to remember.
I run my warm palms down my thighs, knowing I’ve dithered enough. With shaky legs, I force myself to leave the bedroom. The smell of coffee guides me to the kitchen, where I find only Adrian.
Something in my chest both loosens and tightens at the sight of him alone. Relief at not having to face all of them at once wars with disappointment that the others aren't here. His scent is a welcome hug, making that strange heat under my skin flare again. My nostrils flare and I lean into the delicious aroma of him before I can stop myself.
Adrian doesn't comment on my reaction, but he catches the slight hitch in my breath and the way my damned scent has probably just spiked. His smile makes my heart flutter, and something warm unfurls in my chest when he turns those hazel eyes on me.
I react so fast to him. Like my walls don’t even exist after one soft glance.
“Coffee?” he asks, already reaching for some mugs knowing I'll say yes. The domesticity of the gesture makes my chest ache. I haven’t had this experience in almost ten years. Not since I lived with Mom and Dad.
I haven’t belonged in such a long time.
“Thank you,” I manage, sliding onto a stool at the counter. The spread before me is overwhelming as always, fresh fruit arranged on a platter, still-warm pastries that smell like heaven, eggs done three ways, and crispy bacon that makes my mouth water.
My stomach clamps, but not with hunger. “Is this all for me?” I couldn't eat all this if I tried.
A small smile plays at Adrian's lips. “Cole and Zane already ate. We enjoy a good breakfast. Sets us up for the day.”
“Somehow I don’t think three busy alphas who run a billion-dollar company cook like this for breakfast every day.” I’ve spoken out of turn again, but Adrian simply slides a plate to his side of the counter and starts to fill it.
He pauses and looks over at me. “Would you like me to feed you, Omega?”
“Yes.” My response is immediate, but then my stomach rolls for a different reason because I imagine myself draped in his lap while he hand-picks and feeds morsels to me by hand. I catch my blooming scent and dive for the tongs to the fruit plate. “I mean, no. Thank you. I’m good.”
“Hmm. Yes, you are.” Complex notes of spiced vanilla and male musk wash over me. So fucking delicious my abdomen tightens.
My gaze flies up but Adrian has turned to gather the coffee pot. He fills two mugs and sets them on the counter.
“Zane and Cole had to go to the office for a few hours.” His fingers brush mine as he passes one of the mugs to me, sending electricity through my skin. “Some meetings couldn't be postponed. But they can be back in minutes if you need them.”
Those scattered pieces of me come together. Break apart. Come together. Break apart. Part of me does want them all here. Wants to be surrounded by their scents and their care. Wants to be complete in a way I only am when all three of them are near.
I force a smile as though everything is all right. As though he didn’t catch me pleasuring myself in his shower half an hour ago and, oh God, why do I keep thinking of the heat in his knowing eyes. He should be throwing me out, not feeding me breakfast as though bringing home a stray nympho is an everyday occurrence. “You don't need to... I mean, they shouldn't have to...”
“They want to be here,” he says softly, his voice carrying conviction I don’t want to acknowledge. “We all do. With you.”
Why me? Why this pull? Why put up with my resistance? I’m doing everything an omega shouldn’t do, but I'm afraid of the answer if I ask aloud. They think I'm their mate. They said as much last night. Scent-matches, no less. The words echo in my head, impossible and terrifying, but… I should know if I’m their mate, shouldn't I? I should know if we’re scent-matches. I should know with a certainty that would be impossible to deny and yet…and yet…
“What do you like to do with your free time?” Adrian asks, breaking into my thoughts. His question is casual, but his eyes are intent on my face, like my answer really matters to him.
“Free time?” The concept is as foreign as true mates and gentle alphas. “Between waitressing twelve-hour shifts at the diner during the day and cleaning offices at night, any free time I had was spent sleeping.”
His scent spikes with something like pain, but he keeps his voice gentle. The way he controls his reactions, careful not to overwhelm me, makes something in my chest ache in a good way. “What about before you worked two jobs? What did you enjoy?”
A memory slips into my head, faded around the edges but still there. Whole days lost in worn armchairs, surrounded by the comforting smell of old books and dust motes dancing in sunbeams. Mrs. Chen, the librarian, knew me by name and would save new releases she thought I'd like. “This has your name written all over it,” she'd say with a wink. I'd lose myself in other worlds, other lives, possibilities beyond the confines of my own existence .
“I liked the library.” I spent most Saturday mornings there while Mom and Dad worked their second jobs, though I don’t say that now. “There was this corner window seat. The perfect reading spot. Sun would come in just right, and you could see the park across the street. I'd stay there until closing time, just... escaping.” Into worlds where love wasn't a trap, where happy endings existed.
Adrian's expression softens into something that makes my heart flutter. I tense. Why would an omega need to read when her worth is better spent on her back? But instead of a nasty comment, his voice is soft when he says, “Would you like to see the rest of the apartment? I don’t believe you’ve seen all of it yet.”
I find myself nodding, survival instinct warring with curiosity. I should know the layout, all possible exits. There wasn't time to explore during my heat-addled arrival, but now... Maybe there's another way out besides the elevator. A fire escape, a service entrance… something that might give me options when I inevitably run from them.
Adrian leads me through the penthouse, and I try to memorize every turn, every door. His presence beside me is distracting. His scent makes that heat under my skin flare with every breath. He moves with easy confidence, like he knows exactly how his proximity affects me but won't use it to control me.
“Zane's room.” He gestures to a space that perfectly matches its occupant. Bright and open, with large windows letting in natural light. Comfortable furniture in warm colors invites relaxation. Gaming consoles and a massive TV suggest how he unwinds. His dark amber is thick here. I try to hide how it affects me, how right it is, but Adrian's assertive look suggests I fail.
Cole's room is next, darker, more austere, but with an entire wall of books that makes my fingers itch to explore. Literature classics mix with modern novels, scientific texts with poetry collections. Leather and pine wraps around me, and despite his rejection, his scent calls to me just as strongly as the others. A reading chair sits by the window, worn in a way that suggests long hours spent there. I could picture myself curled up there, surrounded by books and his scent...
No. I can't think like that. Can't let myself imagine belonging in these spaces .
Adrian's room suits him perfectly, elegant but comfortable, everything arranged with precise care. The massive bed dominates one wall, making me blush as I remember this morning's fantasy. His scent is strongest here, filling my lungs until I'm dizzy with it. Art on the walls suggests refined taste, while family photos show a softer side. A desk near the window holds neat stacks of papers, everything in its place.
The domesticity of it all starts to overwhelm me… the easy way they share space and imagining how I could fit into their lives.
My chest tightens as iron bands constrict my ribs. My skin prickles with cold sweat as heat floods my face. The urge to run, to hide, to protect myself from the dangerous comfort they offer grows stronger with each passing second, until Adrian's voice cuts through the rising tide of panic, anchoring me to the present.
“You're going to love this next room,” he says, and despite my caution, curiosity stirs. My panic drains away. I don't even realize he's taken my hand until the warmth of his palm registers against mine, his thumb stroking small circles on my skin as he leads me to another door. The casual intimacy of the gesture should frighten me, but instead feels natural.
“My office,” he announces, and I step into a huge, warm space that immediately is... safe. Dark wood paneling, leather furniture, and most importantly, books. Entire walls of books, floor to ceiling shelves filled with volumes of every size. The scent of old paper mingles with his cedar and vanilla, creating something that calls to my soul.
“Why so many books?” I ask, drawn to the eclectic collection.
He smiles, clearly pleased by my interest. “Some are from college. I never could bear to part with them. Others are medical journals, research papers. A lot of fiction, too.” He runs his fingers along a shelf. “Books were my escape during med school, before we started Pinnacle. I'd read anything I could get my hands on.”
“You were in med school?” The question slips out. “Is this before or after culinary school?”
He chuckles, the sound like warm molasses that does illicit things to that place deep inside me. “Don’t believe everything Zane says. He exaggerates. A lot. There were only one or two cooking classes while I was trying to find myself before I realized learning cooking via YouTube was more my style. I switched to pharmaceutical research because I could help more omegas that way than through traditional medicine.” His scent carries notes of old frustration. “Though some might argue we haven't helped much at all.”
He sighs and waves a hand toward the books. “Read anything you like,” he says, as if giving me free access to knowledge isn't dangerous. As if choice isn't a weapon. “The fiction's mostly mysteries and classics, but the medical texts might interest you more.”
Adrian moves to his desk and opens his laptop. I drift toward the shelves like a moth drawn to a flame. Medical texts, scientific journals, literature classics, and... omega studies? Not the propaganda I'm used to, but actual research. My fingers hover over the spines, wanting to touch but unable to believe he’s allowing me access.
My hands shake slightly as I pull out a book on omega biology. The pages fall open to a section on omega heats and what I read makes my blood run cold. This is nothing like what Haven taught us. This text speaks of the need for scents, nests. Consent. All the things I was taught didn't exist.
It talks about heat as a natural process, not a punishment.
About bonding as a choice, not an obligation.
Could what they’ve been telling me be…true?
I look up quickly to check if sitting here and reading is allowed, but Adrian is absorbed in whatever is on his laptop screen. There's a comfortable armchair in the corner of the room, bathed in weak winter light. I walk over to it and sit, waiting to see if he’ll order me to move to the floor. Instead, he starts tapping at his keyboard, becoming lost in his work.
I curl up, tuck my feet under me and set the book in my lap. The leather is soft against my skin, the light perfect for reading. Adrian’s scent mingles so well with dry paper. Heat rises from that endless pool deep within me and slides under my skin like silk, but I ignore it. I need to gather as much information as I can while I’m allowed .
Until I have to run and shatter this dream.
But for now, I allow myself this moment of peace, surrounded by books and his comforting scent, pretending I belong here, arming myself with information. Even though I know better.