Chapter 12
TWELVE
Playing: “pretty” by JVKE
My alpha loves structure.
As a child, I was spontaneous and rambunctious, but puberty quickly changed that.
The dominance I started exhibiting from a young age showed that I needed discipline.
I refused to be one of those alphas who could not control the more toxic qualities that I had seen in the male alphas in my family. I refused to be like them.
So I started small with a routine, and it was a blessing. Nothing sorted out my new alpha more than planning out the way every day would go. Having certain timeframes where things could be interchanged depending on when things became a necessity.
Being in a relationship has helped make things less rigid in my schedule. Instead of having waiting periods for times of productivity, I spend any free time I can with my omega, making sure he has everything he could need. His happiness is my main priority, even over my own.
However, for the past week and a half, I’ve let a part of my structure go. My alpha has found that making Opal comfortable is way more important than getting our daily cup of coffee.
Being the early bird of our pack has never bothered me.
Even living at Alpha Xi, I was the first one awake each day.
I considered it my quiet time, a productive moment where I could have some solace.
Getting dressed, drinking a cup of coffee, and leaving early enough for my first class or meeting always made me feel better. I valued this time, even.
The first day when I woke up to discover that Opal was also a morning person, I thought it would bother me.
There she was, scurrying around the kitchen making breakfast and coffee for herself like she’d been living here the same amount of time we had.
She hummed while she did a million things at once, looking much more rushed than one would think for the early hour.
Her frantic bustling should have made me grit my teeth with vain frustration, but it didn’t.
And thus a new routine started.
Every day at dawn, I find myself watching her from the doorway, taking in her frenzied morning ritual like it was second nature.
Luckily, I’m far enough away that she can’t sense me, because I want her to feel comfortable to move the way she wants.
My mornings of solitude have now become my mornings of discovering innocent voyeurism as I admire her when she thinks no one is watching.
I’ve found some peace in it, surprisingly, that my cup of coffee would never have given me.
It’s important to my alpha, and perhaps me too, that she can be her authentic self. Two weeks without my morning coffee is a small sacrifice compared to that.
I move through the house, focused on what I have to do for the day, when I notice Opal’s coat hanging on the rack outside the kitchen doorway. I touch the padded velvet, a forbidden smile coming to my lips.
I’ve noticed more and more of her things every day that passes. Her keys on the countertop. Her mug collection tucked and organized on an empty cabinet shelf that Kit cleared out for her. Her silk scrunchies that find their way randomly throughout the house.
The clutter is a surprisingly beautiful addition to the house.
The more she leaves her stuff around, the more it starts to feel like her space as much as it is ours.
The casualness of it makes my alpha stir in my chest every time it comes to my attention.
They’re little details that make it a real home.
I’m so focused on it that I don’t even realize Opal has seen me in the doorway until she gives a quiet gasp. My head spins to her, our eyes locking in a way that makes my heart jump.
“Oh. Good morning. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I say, entering the kitchen for the first morning in two weeks.
I casually walk over to the coffee machine to see it’s already filled, the aroma of espresso filling the space in a way that feels nurturing to my soul.
When I turn back to where Opal is frying something in a pan, I give her a small nod of appreciation. “Thank you.”
The smile she gives me is timid, and that forces me into my own head.
Every interaction we’ve had together has been one of unspoken anxiety for both of us.
I can tell she’s nervous around me. I just can’t tell if it’s because of me in general or because of my nature.
I tend to intimidate other designations without trying sometimes, the dominance rolling out from my alpha being strong and borderline hard-headed.
But I don’t want her to be nervous around me. I wonder if there’s a way I can show her that I’m someone she can be safe around. I could offer her more space somewhere, or I could get her a gift because omegas love gifts, or I could try actually speaking to her—
Her mug collection has taken over a shelf in our cabinet, and I’m not mad about it one bit. It breathes life into the once beige and boring space as a variety of cups sit in an organized order. One sticks out to me, and although it’s not my usual black mug, I take it out with intention.
“What fruit is this?” I ask her, showing the mug as I fill it up.
She looks over to answer me, but then she stops short as she erupts into a coughing fit. I look up at her in concern, and she waves me off as she holds her chest. “S-Sorry,” she says. “I must have swallowed wrong. That’s a lychee.”
“Oh, cool. I’ve never seen one before.” I look her over again. “Are you okay?”
She nods and then goes back to what she was doing as if nothing happened. My brows rise at the odd interaction, but I don’t want her to feel embarrassed, so I take my seat at the bar to enjoy my coffee in the new, weirdly-shaped mug.
I take a sip of my coffee, feeling like an addict who has been deprived for days when the liquid hits my tongue, then something clinks, and I look down just as Opal places a ceramic plate in front of me.
The charred bacon glistens as the smell of maple reaches my nose, a piece of toasted sourdough lies next to it, piled high with avocado and sesame seeds. I blink at it, expecting it to disappear every time my lids close and reopen, but the food remains.
I look up at Opal with surprise, her face beaming with soft joy. I start to thank her, but she scoffs playfully. “Don’t make it a thing. I just made too much, it’s not a big deal.”
That breaks the tension enough to get a chuckle out of me. And maybe it’s because I don’t want to fully admit how much this gesture touches something inside of me, so I don’t call her out on it. I just pick up a fork and get started.
She makes her own plate and then sits at the bar as well, leaving a stool between us for distance.
There’s a textbook there, and I glimpse something about education on the front before she opens it up and starts to read while she eats her food.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m a Virgo or if it speaks to my academic nature, but it stimulates something in me.
The sight of her concentrating while also enjoying herself causes my alpha to peek his head out, nudging me in a way that leaves me confused.
The rush leaves me disoriented as I watch her, completely content and finally calm.
I never see her like this. I always leave before she finishes cooking in that chaotic way that I’ve come to fancy.
She takes a bite of a piece of bacon, some of the syrup sticking to her lip, and I realize that the stirring is more than just normal admiration.
My cock hardens and I’m suddenly horrified.
My eyes jut back to my plate quickly, my green apple scent blooming at the acknowledgment of my arousal. I squeeze my eyes shut, shame crowding every other thought that pokes through.
Stop it, I will to my alpha but he just rumbles in my chest.
That causes me to roll my eyes. I look over to see Opal already looking my way, her head tilting as she looks at me with confusion. “Are you okay?” she asks.
My lips flatten, and I’m hoping more than anything that Opal can’t tell the nature of my scent.
I point at the plate. “This is just incredible,” I say, trying to pin my scent on how much I like the food.
She smiles, like she’s happy that I am satisfied with the meal, and it makes what’s going on downstairs so much worse.
I peek at her lips, still glistening with leftover maple, and I reach over carefully.
“You have a little…” I start, telling myself that I’m only doing this to help her.
Her mouth gapes as I get closer and the second my thumb brushes against her lips, a jolt of something goes right through me.
I focus on getting the syrup off rather than the way my cock twitches in my pants.
“There,” I say, pulling my hand away. Her inhale tells me she was holding her breath, and I curse at myself, because I should know better than to surprise omegas with touch that’s unwanted. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head quickly. “No, thank you for that.” She turns back to her textbook then, leaving me to the consequences of my actions. I fight the urge to hang my head as I mindlessly pull my thumb to my mouth and lick off the remaining stickiness.
Something that my alpha wouldn’t let me not do, apparently. I’m just glad Opal isn’t looking anymore.
The temporary endorphin leaves as the force of what just happened comes crashing down on me. I just had a sudden attraction to an omega that isn’t my omega. The guilt douses everything as I turn back to my meal and try to rationalize my body’s response.
But no matter how alarmed I am by the biological mishap, I don’t retreat. I sit there as we eat our breakfast together quietly. It’s like there isn’t another option. I’m meant to be right here, swirling in this feeling, and I can’t get up and walk away for the life of me.
And that’s more bizarre than anything I’ve ever experienced.