Chapter 37
I’m going to strangle them.
Ambrose is getting his ass turned red at the very least.
I make one off-hand comment about how I should probably get used to having small talk with Camille, and they run off and leave us both together within ten minutes of her arrival.
This is so damn awkward.
I need to say something, but nothing will come out. Camille stares down at Dahlia, petting her and looking at the dog like she has the power to save her from me.
I clear my throat, hoping that will unclog my words, but all that does is startle the omega sitting on the other end of the couch.
Her eyes flick up to meet mine and she smiles sheepishly. “So… uh, how’s work going?”
The question is so unexpected a laugh bursts out of me.
Her brow scrunches at my reaction and I shake my head.
“Sorry, that wasn’t funny. It’s just that work is where you’ve seen me at my very worst. You get enough stressed out, asshole River, that I don’t need to add complaining about work to that list.”
A small smile curves across her lips. “You’re right. Should we pretend work River is someone else? That we’re new friends and not stern boss and underappreciated employee?”
“I appreciate you.” The denial comes out as a reflex, needing her to know that she’s wrong about that part of things.
“Ah right, I forgot. I’m your best employee.” The small bite of sarcasm in Camille’s voice makes my dick twitch. My alpha was already obsessed with her from minimal, terse interactions, but sassy Camille is even more dangerous.
I sip my water and nod. “Exactly. But yes, pretending sounds nice.” My smile is more like a grimace. “I don’t know if I deserve that grace from you, but I’ll take it.”
“Eh, there’s a strong possibility we’re going to be pack in the future.
I’m still not entirely sure what all that entails, but I think it means we need to be at least on friendly terms. After all, it’s inevitable that you’ll see me naked and very vulnerable, so I’d rather be able to think of you as my cool friend and not my boss in those situations. ”
I sputter at her casual mention of what I said before. It’s one thing to bring that up during a serious conversation with everyone involved, and another for her to talk about being naked when it’s just the two of us.
“Hey, you’re the one who said it would happen,” she says, chuckling at my reaction. “Maybe I should go ahead and get naked now. Get it over with.”
I know it’s a joke, but my alpha goes feral inside me, wanting to see this omega’s lush body bared for me more than anything. The cute floral top and tight jeans she has on tonight cling to her body in a way that’s far too tempting. It’s a battle to not let my eyes drop to look at her cleavage.
“I’m game if you are,” I reply with a shrug, hoping to hide my reaction by meeting her with the same level of nonchalance.
Her eyes widen ever so slightly, clearly not expecting that answer. A few seconds pass before she giggles and looks down at Dolly, who is asleep with the tip of her tongue poking out.
There’s something so perfect about seeing how comfortable Dahlia is with Camille.
She fits here with such ease—minus any awkwardness my presence brings about.
If we can find a way past that, and I can keep my horny, possessive alpha in check long enough for me to shove my need for Camille into the same box I placed my attraction to Jackson in, then this will work.
Camille shakes her head. “Hmm, maybe after dinner. I don’t want to disturb this sweet angel.”
You’re the angel, I think absently. This omega was sent from the heavens as a gift to our pack, even if she’s not meant to be mine. Fuck, even her scent is ambrosial. I wanted to shove my nose against her throat and lick the rich coffee taste from her skin.
“Alright.” I do my best to adjust myself surreptitiously so she won’t see the inconvenient and incredibly inappropriate boner I have from my alpha’s lascivious thoughts.
“So, where did you grow up?” Camille asks.
Another laugh bubbles out of me.
This time, she scowls at my reaction. “What? Is everything I say that ridiculous?”
“No! No, not at all. You’re just very good at picking topics that make me look awful.” I smile, one of the genuine ones she said she wanted to see more of, to make sure she understands that’s not a dig at her.
Her mouth flattens into a line. “Sorry, I thought family would be a safe subject.” She leans in a bit and I hold my breath for whatever she’s going to say that necessitates her coming closer. “Did you kill them or something?” she whispers.
I glare at her. “What? No. My upbringing was just very weird.”
“Oh, okay. Whew. So normal childhood trauma, not that you’re a secret serial killer.” She considers me for a moment. “You’re handsome enough that I could totally see you as a killer that uses your looks to lure unsuspecting people to their doom.”
“Thanks,” I deadpan, even as my pulse spikes at her saying I’m handsome.
She grins back at me, and even if it’s at my expense, I like it. Camille is stunning when she smiles.
“To answer your question, I grew up in a commune.” I keep my tone bland to see how she’ll react.
Camille scoffs. “Yeah, and I grew up on a space station.”
When I continue to give her a humorless look, her mouth falls open. “No way. Really?”
I nod. “Really. And no, before you ask, it wasn’t a cult.
Or maybe it was. I don’t know. I try not to think about it that much.
” I cross my legs, hoping that will relieve some of the ache in my low back and hips from a week of sitting at my desk and being too distracted worrying about tonight to remember to do my PT. “What’s your family like?”
Her jaw drops even more. “No, no, we’re not moving on to me. You can’t say you maybe were part of a cult like you’re talking about the weather and not explain.”
My lips twitch at her indignance. Part of me assumed she’d chalk it up as another unpleasant thing about me, and not care to know the details. As much as I’m not a big fan of talking about my upbringing, it’s nice to know Camille cares.
Even if it’s only out of morbid curiosity.
“My parents were part of this movement called OnePack, which took the whole ‘it takes a village’ mentality very literally. We lived on this giant farm where everyone worked and lived together. And, uh, if they were of age, slept together.”
I grimace. I’m not a prude, but the free love that surrounded me as a kid wasn’t as idyllic as people hoped it would be. It was messy, both literally and emotionally, because no one set boundaries or had a system for addressing difficulties that arose from not being able to claim pack members.
“There were no packs or family units, and they actively discouraged forming those kinds of attachments, because it was too ‘limiting’ to the prosperity of the collective.”
“Holy shit. River, that’s…” Camille’s eyes are comically wide, which is the standard reaction I get when I tell people about my childhood. “So, wait, did you not know who your parents were?”
I shrug, showing off a nonchalance that I’ve gained over many years of distance from that life. I’m an expert at compartmentalizing weird and uncomfortable shit.
“I mean, I knew who they were, since my mother would visit the nursery sometimes and my father was the only Asian guy in the collective. I’d see them around, and at holiday celebrations, but they weren’t really my parents.
I was raised by a group of omegas who had a fondness for kids, but even they didn’t really take on the role of my parents.
They just made sure the kids didn’t, uh, die.
” I clear my throat, realizing my voice has gone tight as I think about their lack of care.
“The one good thing about their hands-off approach was that they didn’t want to put in the effort to educate us, so we went to public schools. ”
Camille scowls. “That sounds like neglect. How is that even legal?”
I shift again, taken aback by her angry tone. She sounds like she wants to go back in time and yell at the people in the commune. Like she wants to protect me, though god knows why.
“Who knows? I think they’re small enough that no one bothered to look into it. And I turned out okay, minus the occasional eye twitch when I see a bonfire. And my general disposition,” I joke, keeping my tone dry and unbothered.
I’m not about to tell her all the damage done by sixteen years of not being given proper medical care and being told my arthritis wasn’t real and a symptom of attachment to limiting beliefs.
It’s over now. She doesn’t need to know.
Camille slides down the couch until she’s right beside me. My brain goes blank, unable to understand why she’s moved. I flinch when she reaches toward me, and she pulls her hand back with a small whine.
“Shit, sorry,” Camille gasps, like she’s as surprised by her actions as I am. “My omega really wanted me to comfort you.”
I blink back at her. “Oh.”
I should tell her I’m fine. That I don’t need her comfort. But now that she’s next to me, I can smell the bitter, burnt edge to her scent, and I hate it.
If her touching me will make her feel better, then I can handle it. Besides, if her omega doesn’t want me to be upset, that means things are going well, right? It means at least part of her doesn’t hate me.
Swallowing hard and begging my alpha to be cool for once around this omega, I nod. “It’s okay. You can touch me.”
Her brows pinch together. “Are you sure?”
No, I’m not. “Yes.”
Camille reaches out again, and I expect for her to touch my arm or my hand, but she places her palm in the center of my chest. I watch her, rapt as her eyes flutter shut and a soft, tentative purr rumbles to life in her chest. The vibrations travel into me where we’re connected, and a sigh escapes me before I can keep it in.
Her eyes open, and she gives me an apologetic smile. “I don’t really know what I’m doing. This whole being an omega thing is so weird.”
This close, I can count the constellation of freckles dotting her cheeks and get lost in the endless expanse of her soulful eyes. Every molecule of my body is vibrating in time with Camille’s purr, desperate for more of her.
I can’t find words to express how I’m feeling without betraying my attraction to her, and after a moment, she starts to draw back. Before I can stop myself, I place my hand atop hers, keeping it trapped on my chest.
“Stay.”
The word comes out little more than a hoarse whisper, but it’s enough. Her wide eyes search my face, and I know I’ve let my mask slip, but her purr and nearness feel too good to put it back on.
The ache in my spine eases.
The weight in my chest from discussing my fucked up childhood lessens.
All the reasons why I can’t be with Camille the way the others are slip away.
“Camille…”
Emotion bubbles up inside me. I’m not sure what I’m going to say. If I’m going to thank her for the comfort she’s providing or confess my desire for her.
It doesn’t end up mattering, because Ambrose walks into the room before I can get anything out. I stiffen like I’ve been caught doing something wrong. Even though it’s his damn fault I was left alone with Camille this long.
My mate raises a brow at me, a small smile forming on his lips before he clears his throat to get Camille’s attention. “Dinner is ready.”
Camille yanks her hand back and lets out a nervous giggle.
Tension creeps back into me now that she’s stopped purring, but it’s for the best. Any longer, and I would’ve done something we’d all regret. Maybe Ambrose and Jackson could sense that through the bond.
Fuck. I need to get my shit together.
No more solo chats with Camille. No more touching or purring or getting close enough to scent her.
My pack can’t afford for me to be that selfish. My job is too important for our security to jeopardize it by letting my attraction to Camille cloud my judgement, and there’s no way I’d put her in danger of getting fired, either.
This beautiful, smart, hardworking, funny, and caring omega is nothing but my new friend.
I ignored feelings like this successfully when I met Jackson. I can do it again. I have to.