Chapter 21
A rushed shower and a change of clothes and underwear later—along with many manufactured excuses for not going on my date tonight that my omega refused to let me send—I’m standing on the stoop of a townhouse in a much nicer neighborhood than mine.
My finger hovers over the doorbell as I take in a deep, stabilizing breath. As I exhale, I make myself press it.
My pulse spikes the second I hear it chime and I shift in place, smoothing down my skirt and making sure my necklace isn’t twisted as I wait for someone to answer.
Footsteps sound on the other side of the door, matching the pounding of my heart in my ears, and the urge to flee rises as they grow closer.
The slide of the deadbolt tells me it’s too late for that, and I force a shaky smile onto my lips as the door swings open.
“Camille! You’re here,” Ambrose says, eyes widening slightly as he takes me in, despite his welcoming smile.
He sounds like he’s shocked to see me.
Shit, I’m already messing this up.
“Did I get the time wrong? I can come back later if you want,” I blurt with an apologetic grimace.
Ambrose’s eyes go even wider, his thick brows raising in alarm. He shakes his head and reaches out to grab my arm like he’s afraid I’m going to flee. “No! No, you’re right on time. Please don’t leave.”
Warm, slightly callused fingers wrap around my arm, accompanied by a spike of unexpected lust at the contact. My breath hitches and my eyes drop to look at where he’s touching me and setting me alight.
Immediately, Ambrose lets go and steps back, a tinge of red peeking out above his trimmed beard. “Sorry I’m being so weird! I just saw you and…” He shakes his head and chuckles, the sound a bit hoarse. “I couldn’t believe you were actually here. That, and I forgot how beautiful you are.”
His candor disarms my nerves some, and I chuckle. “You weren’t kidding about your memory problems. You saw me a few hours ago.”
Ambrose’s laugh washes over me, easing even more of my anxiety. “Damn, you’re right. But to my credit, you weren’t wearing that before.” His piercing gray eyes sparkle with heat as they give me a quick once over.
It’s a potent contrast to Holden’s slimy gaze that left me feeling unclean. Ambrose's eyes hold desire, but it’s paired with something akin to awe. My omega wants nothing more than to sink into the hold of his gaze. To open my body, heart, and mind, and expose every facet of myself to this alpha.
She needs to calm down and get a grip.
I flush and lower my eyes to look at the dress I put on.
It’s one that’s sat in the back of my closet for years with the tag still on.
I bought it on a whim, and immediately regretted the purchase, my fear of being seen as not dressing appropriately for my age stopping me every time I went to put it on. Until tonight.
The light floral pattern and the way the silky fabric hugs my waist and flares out into a flowy skirt make me feel soft and delicate. Like a princess rather than a world-weary woman.
Realization dawns on me why I chose to finally wear it tonight.
This dress makes me feel like an omega.
I fight to meet Ambrose’s eyes as a storm of conflicting emotions about that revelation washes over me. “I’m glad you like it.”
He smiles, a tempting mix of happiness and desire in his expression. “You could wear a sack and I’d still think you’re beautiful, but you’re practically glowing in this. I can tell how much you love it, and that’s what makes it so breathtaking.”
God, this man. How am I supposed to be cautious about tonight when he says things like that and levels me with that damn sexy, earnest grin?
“Thanks,” I reply breathily. “You look really good, too.”
That’s an understatement. His salt and pepper hair is slightly damp, like he took a shower not too long ago, and he’s exchanged his work clothes for a more casual open button down that exposes the t-shirt underneath, which stretches deliciously taught against his thick stomach and chest.
He looks so good it makes me want to drop to my knees and beg him to have his way with me.
My scent grows thicker around me, and I realize belatedly that I didn’t put on any scent neutralizer after my shower.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” His nostrils flaring as he catches my scent, and Ambrose releases a soft groan, his own citrus and herbal scent intensifying.
Looks like we both didn’t use our scent neutralizer.
I frown. “I’m sorry. I don’t know the protocol for meeting a pack. I should’ve used something for my scent. I think I have some neutralizer in my purse, and I can use it before I come inside.”
Ambrose shakes his head. “Don’t. Scent is important for determining pack compatibility. Besides, I’ve been craving more of yours.”
My stomach does a little flip at his confession. “O-oh. Okay then.”
He reaches out to take the wine bottle from my hand, then steps back. “Come on in.”
I hesitate for a split second before stepping inside, the significance of entering his pack’s home anchoring me on the spot.
Tonight might change the course of my entire life as much as the night I revealed as an omega. As much as I’m trying to shield myself from disappointment, I know it’ll sting if things don’t work out. But even more nerve-wracking is the possibility that it will work out.
I don’t know how to be in a relationship with one person, let alone a whole pack. It’s hard to imagine an outcome where I won’t screw this up somehow.
It’s a monumental effort to unstick my feet and make myself face whatever is waiting for me inside. When Ambrose closes the door behind me, it feels like I’ve sealed my fate, for better or worse.
Please let it be for the better.
Ambrose reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
I smile at him shakily, stunned by how he’s able to read me so well. “I’m really nervous,” I confess, my voice barely more than a whisper.
He nods, his eyes shining with empathy. “Me too. But sometimes the scariest things end up being the most amazing ones.”
“Yeah,” I breathe.
Ambrose sets the wine bottle down on a table in their narrow entryway and reaches out to coax me into a hug. “I’ve got you,” he says again, pressing his lips to my hair. A moment later, his chest vibrates with a soft purr.
My body relaxes against him, soaking up his scent and solid warmth. Everything about being held by Ambrose feels right.
I release something between a sigh and a shuddering laugh. “Damn, your hugs are better than any anxiety meds I’ve tried.”
He chuckles. “They’re yours whenever you need them. In fact, as your doctor, I insist you get them regularly.”
I giggle and force myself to step back out of the hug, even though my omega protests losing his touch. “Thank you for professional concern,” I tease, loving the way he grins back at me.
“Of course,” Ambrose says with a nod.
A beeping noise cuts through the moment, and Ambrose grimaces. “Crap, I need to go take that out of the oven. Jackson will kill me if I let it burn.”
He grabs the wine again, taking my hand and leading me down a hall lined with a number of beautiful abstract paintings, passing by a staircase and a small sitting room, to bring us into a bright, spacious kitchen.
He sets the wine down on the gleaming white marble island and drops my hand to scramble over to the oven.
“I thought you said Jackson was cooking dinner.”
“He is!” Ambrose replies, wincing as he goes to reach in to the oven before realizing he didn’t put on an oven mitt.
He gives me a sheepish laugh as he grabs the silicone mitt from a drawer and slips it on.
“He went for a walk with Dahlia to help get out some of their nervous energy before you came.”
“Dahlia?” My brow furrows at the unfamiliar name.
I thought he said that their third packmate was a man. My omega bristles at the potential of being misled, but she doesn’t have long to stew in that because a moment later there’s a crashing sound from the direction of the front door.
“Wait! Dolly, hold on!” Jackson’s aggravated voice rings out from down the hall.
Oh god, is this Dahlia woman mad? Did she get one whiff of my scent in her home and decide she didn’t want me encroaching on her territory?
I shoot Ambrose an alarmed look, but he’s oblivious, calmly setting a dish of the most delicious looking mac and cheese I’ve ever seen on the stove.
My panic morphs to delight as a shrill bark echoes down the hallway and Dahlia comes bounding into the kitchen.
“Oh my god!” I gasp as I take in the sight of the mini dachshund charging toward me, wheels strapped to her hindquarters and a bright pink leash trailing behind her.
Ambrose registers my reaction and slams the oven shut. “Shit, I thought you were okay with dogs,” he says, sounding panicked as he moves to try to intercept her before she reaches me.
“Dahlia! Stay!” Jackson shouts as he enters the kitchen, but Dahlia rushes my way with more ferocious barks.
The squat black and tan dog doesn’t listen, and while I know I should probably be worried about a dog acting like she wants to rip my throat out, I can’t because my heart is currently exploding with joy and delight.
She’s so cute.
Jackson dashes forward to grab at her leash, a horrified look twisting his face when he doesn’t manage to snag it. “Dolly, you little hell on wheels, stop!” he yells at her in a last-ditch effort to halt her warpath toward me.
She looks over her shoulder at him and barks, like she’s telling him he should be proud that she’s such a good protector, then turns back to me.
Displaying a total lack of self-preservation, I crouch down to greet her.
The dog comes to an abrupt stop, just shy of crashing into me, and her barks cease as she catches my scent and goes into a sniffing frenzy.
I hold my hand out, palm up, to let her check me out, and Dahlia gives me a testing lick.
I must pass the taste test because she presses closer, nudging her head under my hand, and looking up at me with the sweetest eyes.
“Camille, I’m so sorry!” Jackson crouches beside us to save me from his “vicious” dog.
“It’s fine!” I lift my gaze to give him a reassuring smile and my breath stutters as our eyes meet.
Talk about forgetting how hot someone is. I thought maybe the haze of my heat had exaggerated Jackson’s good looks in my memory, but no. He’s even more attractive than I remember.
Dahlia nudges into me again, letting out a displeased huff that I stopped paying attention to her. I giggle and scratch behind her floppy ears. “It’s very nice to meet you, Dahlia.”
She cocks her head at my voice and her tail swishes back and forth, smacking against the sides of her wheelchair.
“Someone’s lucky that she’s cute, because that was very rude, Dolly,” Jackson grumbles as he reaches out to unhook her leash.
He gives me a lopsided grin as his face moves closer to mine.
He pauses there, close enough for me to feel his breath when he speaks.
“Hey Cami,” he murmurs, his voice taking on a deeper, more molten tone that makes my nipples harden.
“H-hey,” I say breathlessly as he shifts back to undo the clasps on Dolly’s wheels. The dextrous, practiced movements of his fingers are far sexier than they have any right to be.
His subtle earl gray scent floats over to me as those enticing fingers brush against mine as I pet Dahlia, who has scrunched herself between my legs to lean all her body weight against me.
“I apologize for being so rude. I usually like to at least say hello to a woman before I show her my weiner,” Jackson deadpans.
I release out a sputtering laugh at his joke, and Ambrose groans, which earns a cheeky grin from the beta.
“It’s okay.” I smile down at the sweet dog I’m petting. “Lucky for you, I like your weiner.”
Ambrose lets out a bark of laughter at my response.
“Oh, I remember,” Jackson teases back, giving me a filthy smile as he sets the wheels to the side and scoops Dahlia up with one of his muscled arms.
He stands and offers a hand to steady me, and I accept it, my skin tingling pleasurably at his touch.
“It’s so good to see you again, Cami,” Jackson says, beaming at me. “When Ambrose told me you were coming over, I thought I was dreaming. But here you are.”
“Here I am.” My cheeks burn at the memory of everything this man did to me during my heat. “It’s strange to see you after, uh, everything, but I’m glad to be here.”
“Strange, but awesome,” Jackson says. “At least for me.”
Ambrose looks between us, and a small smile curves across his lips. “Why don’t you give Camille a quick tour while I set the table and we wait for the food to cool enough to not burn our mouths?”
“Oh! Yeah, that’d be great. If you’re cool with that.” Jackson’s excitement is abundantly clear in his tone.
I thought I’d be more nervous being around Jackson again, since the extent of our interactions were discussing my sexual need and him fulfilling them, but his enthusiasm sets me at ease as much as Ambrose’s soothing presence.
“Of course. I’d love a tour.”
“Here, give me Dolly.” Ambrose reaches out to take the dog from Jackson, giving her a kiss on the head once she’s cradled in his arms. Jackson places a hand on my lower back and guides me back to the hallway, and as we leave the kitchen, I hear Ambrose murmur, “Hey sweet girl, you stay with me while your daddy talks to Camille.”
I freeze hearing Ambrose use the word “daddy”, and Jackson and I exchange a weighted look. Awkward silence stretches between us, but a few moments later, he bursts into laughter.
“Thank god I’m not the only one who can’t hear him say that without thinking about…” He gestures to me and waggles his eyebrows, “Everything that happened.”
I join his laughter, relieved to acknowledge the elephant in the room. “So that wasn’t a figment of my heat addled imagination?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. That was very real. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at the old man the same way again. And he definitely needs to stop referring to me as ‘Daddy’ with Dolly.” He shudders melodramatically and I laugh harder.
“So you don’t call him Daddy on a regular basis?” I tease, recalling Ambrose telling me they don’t have an intimate relationship.
Jackson sputters. “N-no! Definitely not.” He clears his throat and a slow, dirty grin spreads across his lips. “Though I wouldn’t mind hearing him say it again if it were with you.”
Heat washes over me at the thought. I drop my eyes, unable to look directly at the handsome beta while he’s flirting with me. It was a lot easier when I had heat hormones pumping through my system.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous when you blush,” he murmurs, closing the distance between us to push my hair out of my face.
I look back up at him, mouth parting on a silent gasp when I see the heated look in his eyes. “Too bad there’s no time before dinner to see what else I can do to make you flush so prettily.”