44. Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Four
I tossed and turned in my nest, but sleep didn’t want to happen tonight it seems.
Despite the physical exhaustion weighing down my limbs, my mind refused to quiet. Images from the day kept replaying—Lucas's playful smile as he'd held me in my nest, Gabriel's intense gaze in his study, Dakota's gentle goodnight kiss. And beneath those sweeter memories lurked darker ones—the discussion about why I'd been targeted, the realization that my independence as an Omega had somehow marked me for violence.
I shifted again, punching my pillow into a more comfortable shape. The sheets felt too warm, then too cool. My skin seemed hypersensitive, remembering every touch, every kiss from earlier. But overlaying that pleasant hum of desire was a persistent anxiety about the case, about what tomorrow might bring.
With a frustrated sigh, I threw back the covers and sat up. Sleep clearly wasn't coming anytime soon. Maybe some tea would help—something herbal and soothing to calm my racing thoughts.
I slipped on a robe over my sleep shorts and tank top, then padded barefoot into the hallway. The house was quiet, the corridor dimly lit by small night-lights along the baseboard. I moved silently through the hall, wondering if any of the Alphas were still awake or if they'd all retired to their rooms.
The kitchen was dark when I entered, but I knew my way around well enough now to find the kettle without turning on the harsh overhead lights. I filled it with water and set it on the stove, the soft click of the gas igniting providing the only sound in the stillness. While I waited for it to boil, I leaned against the counter, wrapping my arms around myself against the slight chill.
"Trouble sleeping?"
I startled at the voice, turning to find Theo standing in the doorway. He was still dressed in his clothes from earlier, though his tie was loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. His glasses reflected the dim light from the stove, making his eyes temporarily unreadable.
"I didn't mean to startle you," he said, moving into the kitchen with that precise, measured gait of his. "I heard movement and wanted to ensure everything was all right."
I nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Just couldn't sleep. Thought some tea might help."
Theo studied me for a moment, his analytical gaze taking in my rumpled appearance, the way my arms were wrapped protectively around myself. "Your insomnia is understandable. Today contained multiple emotional and intellectual stressors."
I smiled faintly at his clinical assessment. "That's one way of putting it." He moved through the kitchen setting the kettle on the stove, letting it heat up.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," I said, keeping my voice low. "Just couldn't sleep."
Theo turned from the stove to look at me, "You didn't disturb me. I was working." He gestured to the tablet tucked under his arm. "The financial trails are complex. I find nighttime conducive to concentration."
I smiled faintly, unsurprised that Theo would be working in the middle of the night. "Does your brain ever turn off?"
"Rarely," he admitted, setting his tablet on the counter and moving closer. His eyes, sharp even in the dim light, studied me. "Insomnia is my frequent companion."
"Mine too, lately," I confessed, wrapping my arms tighter around myself. "Though for different reasons, I imagine."
The kettle began to whistle, and Theo moved with efficient grace to silence it before the sound could wake the others. He retrieved two mugs from the cabinet and selected tea bags from the organized drawer beside the stove.
"Chamomile with lavender," he explained, preparing both mugs. "Studies indicate it's particularly effective for anxiety-induced insomnia."
I accepted the mug he offered, our fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. "Thank you."
Theo gestured toward the kitchen island. "Would you like to sit?"
I nodded, grateful for the company despite my earlier desire for solitude. We settled onto adjacent stools, the steam from our mugs rising between us in the dim kitchen. Theo's presence beside me was oddly comforting—not demanding conversation like Lucas might, or radiating protective energy like Dakota, but simply existing alongside me in the quiet moment.
"Your thoughts are agitated," Theo observed after several minutes of comfortable silence. "It's evident in your micro-expressions—the tension around your eyes, the way you keep adjusting your posture."
I smiled faintly, taking a sip of tea. "Is there anything you don't notice?"
"Very little," he admitted without arrogance, simply stating a fact. "Observation is both natural inclination and trained skill."
I studied him over the rim of my mug, taking in the precise way he held his cup, the careful attention he seemed to give to even this simple act of drinking tea. "What else do you observe about me right now?"
Theo's eyes met mine, analytical yet somehow warm behind his glasses. "Physical fatigue indicated by the slight slump of your shoulders, but mental alertness suggested by your dilated pupils and rapid eye movements. You're wearing a robe but haven't fully secured it—indicating you left your room impulsively rather than with deliberation." His gaze dropped briefly to my hands. "You've been creating arrangements today—there's a small stain from eucalyptus oil on your right index finger. And despite your exhaustion, you're still processing the events of the day—evident in how you periodically touch your lips, likely recalling physical interactions with Gabriel and Lucas."
Heat rushed to my cheeks at his accurate assessment, especially the last observation. I hadn't even realized I'd been touching my lips. "That's... impressive.”
The corner of Theo's mouth lifted in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “I am glad you think so.”
"Though many find it unsettling," he added, adjusting his glasses in that precise way of his. "Being observed so thoroughly."
I considered this as I took another sip of tea, the warmth spreading through my chest. "I don't mind. With you, it feels like... understanding, not judgment."
Something flickered in Theo's eyes—surprise, perhaps, or appreciation. "That's an unusually perceptive observation."
"I observe things too," I said with a small smile. "Not as scientifically as you, maybe, but I notice patterns. The way someone's eyes change when they're truly listening. How different people express care in different ways." I paused, studying him. "You show it through attention. Through seeing all the details others miss."
Theo was quiet for a moment, his analytical mind seemingly processing my words. "Most people don't recognize that aspect of observation," he said finally. "They focus on the data collection aspect, not the underlying motivation." He looked down at his tea, his long fingers wrapped around the mug. "Your perception is... refreshing."
I felt warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the tea. "Maybe it's because I spend so much time observing tiny details too—the subtle differences in petal shapes, how certain flowers complement each other, the way light affects color. Different field, same attentiveness."
Theo's eyes met mine, something softening in his analytical gaze. "The principle is similar," he agreed. "Recognizing patterns others overlook."
We fell into comfortable silence again, sipping our tea. The house was quiet around us, the only sounds the occasional settling of the old building and our own breathing. There was something intimate about sharing this peaceful moment in the darkened kitchen, away from the pressures of the case and the complicated dynamics between all of us. With Theo, there was no expectation of conversation or performance—just quiet companionship that somehow eased the anxiety that had been keeping me awake.
"Your heartrate has decreased by approximately twelve beats per minute since we began talking," Theo observed, his voice soft in the stillness. "The tea appears to be having its intended effect."
I smiled into my mug. "It's not just the tea. It's the company."
Theo tilted his head slightly, studying me with that careful attention that made me feel simultaneously exposed and understood. "My company is not usually described as calming. 'Intense' and 'overwhelming' are more common descriptors."
"I find it grounding," I admitted, surprising myself with my honesty. "The way you see everything so clearly, so precisely—it makes the chaos feel more manageable somehow."
Something flickered in Theo's expression—surprise, perhaps, or something warmer. "That's... not a perspective I've encountered before." His analytical gaze softened slightly as it held mine. "I'm glad you find it beneficial rather than intimidating."
I set my mug down, suddenly aware of how close we were sitting, our knees nearly touching on the adjacent stools. The kitchen felt smaller somehow, more intimate in the dim light. "Theo," I said softly, not entirely sure what I wanted to say next.
He set his own mug down, his full attention on me now. "Yes?"
"Today with Lucas and Gabriel..." I began, then paused, uncertain how to continue.
"You don't owe me an explanation," Theo said, his voice gentle despite his usual precision. "What happens between you and the others is your choice."
"I know," I said quickly. "That's not--what I meant." I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. "I just wanted to make sure you understand that it doesn't mean I'm not... interested in you too."
Theo's eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, that analytical mind of his clearly processing my words. "You're concerned about perceived hierarchies or preferences within our unusual dynamic," he observed, his voice carefully neutral though I detected a hint of something warmer underneath.
"Yes," I admitted, grateful for his ability to articulate what I'd been struggling to express. "I don't want you to think that because things happened with them first, that somehow means..."
"That your interest in me is lesser?" Theo finished when I trailed off.
I nodded, suddenly feeling shy despite the intimacy we'd shared earlier in the kitchen. "Exactly."
Theo adjusted his glasses, a gesture I was beginning to recognize as self-soothing rather than a nervous habit. "I've observed enough to understand that emotional and physical connections don't follow linear progressions or hierarchies," he said, his analytical tone somehow making the sentiment more meaningful. "You've been through significant trauma, both recently and in your past. Your process of connection and trust will naturally follow an organic pattern rather than an orderly sequence."
His understanding, so precise yet so compassionate, made my throat tighten with emotion. "You're remarkable, you know that?" I said softly.
Theo looked momentarily startled by the compliment, as if he wasn't accustomed to such direct appreciation. "I simply observe what others often overlook."
I reached out, my hand covering his where it rested on the counter. "That's exactly what makes you remarkable." Theo looked down at our hands, then back to my face, his analytical gaze softening with something warmer.
"May I?" he asked, his voice softer than usual, and I nodded, understanding his unspoken question. Theo leaned forward with deliberate care, his movements precise as always as his lips met mine. Unlike the kiss we'd shared earlier, this one was unhurried, exploratory—as if he was conducting thorough research on what made me respond. His hand came up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone with scientific precision that somehow still felt tender.
When we finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Theo's eyes were darker behind his glasses, the analytical sharpness tempered by something more primal.
"Your physiological responses are fascinating," he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of my lower lip. "Increased pulse, dilated pupils, flushed skin." Despite the clinical assessment, his voice had roughened, betraying his own response.
I smiled at his observation. "You make it sound so scientific."
"Everything is, at its foundation," Theo replied, though his usual clinical detachment was undercut by the way his fingers lingered against my skin. "But science doesn't diminish beauty or meaning. It enhances it." His eyes studied my face with that intense focus that made me feel like the center of his universe. "The chemical reactions occurring in your body right now—the oxytocin, dopamine, serotonin—they're measurable, predictable. But the experience they create..." His voice softened. "That's beyond quantification."
I leaned into his touch, drawn to this unexpected blend of analytical precision and genuine warmth. "For someone who processes the world through data, you have a surprisingly poetic side."
"Poetry is pattern recognition," Theo said simply. "Finding meaning in the rhythms and connections others miss." His hand slid to the nape of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he studied me. "May I kiss you again?"
"Please," I whispered, already leaning toward him.
This time, his kiss was less exploratory and more confident—as if his earlier research had yielded conclusive results he was now applying. His lips moved against mine with deliberate intent, cataloging each small sound I made, each subtle response. When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, I opened to him willingly, my hands coming up to grip his shoulders as the kiss deepened.
Theo's methodical approach to intimacy was unlike anything I'd experienced—each touch seemed calculated for maximum effect, each movement precise and purposeful. Yet there was nothing cold about his attention; rather, it felt like being the subject of complete and utter focus, as if nothing else in the world existed beyond the points where our bodies connected. His hands moved to my waist, lifting me effortlessly from my stool and pulling me between his knees. The new position brought us closer, my chest pressed against his as his arms encircled me.
"Your heart rate has increased by approximately twenty-seven percent," Theo murmured against my lips, his voice rougher than I'd ever heard it. "Mine has as well. Fascinating correlation."
I couldn't help but laugh softly, even as desire pooled low in my belly. "Only you would be calculating heart rates during a kiss."
The corner of his mouth lifted in that rare almost-smile. "Observation is automatic for me. But that doesn't mean I'm not..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Affected."
As if to prove his point, one of his hands slid lower, tracing the curve of my hip through the thin fabric of my robe. The touch sent a shiver down my spine, my body responding instinctively to his careful exploration. Theo noticed, of course—he noticed everything.
"Cold?" he asked, though the knowing look in his eyes suggested he understood perfectly well that my reaction had nothing to do with temperature.
"Not at all," I whispered, my hands sliding up to cup his face. "Quite the opposite, actually."
Theo's eyes darkened behind his glasses, his analytical gaze now heated with something more primal. His hands tightened slightly at my waist, drawing me impossibly closer as he leaned in to kiss me again. This time, there was less careful exploration and more hunger—as if his self-control was finally beginning to fray around the edges.
I responded in kind, my fingers threading through his hair, disturbing its usual neatness in a way that felt strangely intimate. Theo growled softly against my mouth, the sound so unexpected from him that it sent another wave of heat through me. His hands slid beneath my robe, finding the bare skin of my waist where my tank top had ridden up. His fingers were cool against my heated skin, methodical in their exploration as they traced patterns up my sides.
"Your skin's temperature is elevated," he murmured against my lips, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. "Fascinating physiological response."
"Are you always this analytical?" I asked breathlessly as his mouth moved to my neck, pressing precise kisses along my pulse point.
"Yes," he admitted without apology, his teeth grazing my sensitive skin in a way that made me gasp. "Though usually I maintain better internal monologue control."
I laughed softly, the sound turning into a moan as his hands slid higher under my tank top, his thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts in a teasing touch that made me arch against him. "I find your responses... compelling."
"I find your observations compelling too," I whispered, my hands sliding down to his shoulders, feeling the surprising strength beneath his typically buttoned-up exterior. "Though I might prefer fewer words and more action at the moment."
Something flashed in Theo's eyes—amusement, desire, and something deeper—as he adjusted his glasses with his free hand. "A reasonable request. I'll adjust my approach accordingly."
True to his word, Theo's mouth found mine again in a kiss that contained none of his usual restraint. His hands moved with purpose now, one sliding up to cup my breast through the thin fabric of my tank top while the other held me firmly against him. I gasped against his lips as his thumb circled my nipple, the precise, scientific touch sending shocks of pleasure through my body. My own hands weren't idle, moving to the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them to reveal more of his skin to my exploring fingers.
"Your fine motor skills remain remarkably coordinated despite elevated arousal," Theo observed, his voice rougher than I'd ever heard it as my fingers worked their way down his shirt. "Most individuals experience decreased dexterity under similar conditions."
"I work with my hands," I reminded him breathlessly as his mouth found that sensitive spot just below my ear. "Muscle memory."
"Fascinating," he murmured against my skin, the word more sensual than clinical in his deepened voice. He helped me push his shirt open, revealing a lean, surprisingly muscled torso that my hands immediately moved to explore. My fingers traced the contours of his chest, mapping him with the same attention to detail he always showed the world. He seemed fascinated by my touch, his analytical mind cataloging each response, each small reaction to my exploration.
"Your observational skills are impressive," he said, his breathing slightly uneven as my fingers traced the lean muscles of his abdomen. "Most people wouldn't notice the scar here." His hand covered mine, guiding it to a thin white line just below his ribs.
"I notice details," I replied, my voice husky with desire. "Especially important ones."
Something warmed in Theo's eyes at my words, a vulnerability beneath his analytical exterior that made my heart squeeze. His hands moved to the tie of my robe, fingers hovering questioningly.
"May I?"
I nodded, my breath catching as he slowly untied the loose knot, pushing the robe from my shoulders until it pooled around my feet. His eyes moved over me—tank top and sleep shorts leaving little to the imagination in the dim kitchen light—with scientific thoroughness, as if cataloging each curve, each shadow.
"Beautiful," he murmured, the single word carrying more emotion than his usual analytical observations. His hands settled on my hips, warm and steady as they drew me back between his knees. "May I continue my exploration?"
"Please," I whispered, my voice catching as his fingers slid beneath the hem of my tank top, tracing patterns across my skin with deliberate precision.
Theo's touch was methodical yet somehow deeply intimate—as if he was mapping every inch of me, committing each reaction to memory. When his hands finally moved higher, pushing my tank top up to expose my breasts to his heated gaze, I felt none of the self-consciousness I might have expected. There was something freeing about being seen so thoroughly, so completely, by someone who noticed every detail yet found value in each one. His analytical gaze had transformed into something hungrier, though no less attentive, as his hands cupped my breasts with reverent precision.
"The human body is a remarkable system," Theo murmured, his thumbs circling my nipples in a way that made me gasp. "But yours exceeds standard parameters of aesthetic appreciation."
I laughed softly, even as desire coursed through me. "That might be the most Theo way possible of calling me beautiful."
The corner of his mouth lifted in that subtle almost-smile. "Accuracy is important to me." His head lowered, lips replacing fingers as he took one sensitive peak into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue, combined with the careful pressure of his teeth, sent shocks of pleasure straight to my core. I moaned, my fingers threading through his hair, holding him to me as he continued his methodical exploration. His touch was precise—scientific in its thoroughness yet somehow deeply sensual in its execution.
"Your responses are extraordinary," he murmured against my skin as his mouth moved to my other breast, giving it the same meticulous attention. "Each micro-reaction suggests optimal stimulation patterns."
I would have laughed at his clinical assessment if I hadn't been so lost in sensation. Instead, I arched into his touch, seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he was creating with such methodical precision. His hands slid down to my hips, fingers hooking in the waistband of my sleep shorts, pausing there in silent question.
"Yes," I breathed, understanding what he was asking. "Please, Theo." With careful movements, he slid the shorts down my legs, helping me step out of them before his hands returned to my hips, holding me steady between his knees.
His eyes, analytical yet heated behind his glasses, studied me with that intense focus that made me feel completely seen. I stood before him, wearing only my tank top, as his hands explored the newly exposed skin of my thighs and hips with scientific precision.
"Your musculature suggests regular physical activity," he observed, his fingers tracing patterns that made me shiver despite the warmth spreading through me. "Likely from carrying heavy arrangements and standing for extended periods."
"Are you analyzing my body while we're being intimate?" I asked, my voice breathy despite my attempt at teasing.
Theo's eyes met mine, something vulnerable flickering behind his usual analytical gaze. "It's how I process the world. Through observation, data collection, analysis." His hands stilled on my hips. "Does it bother you?"
I reached out, gently removing his glasses and setting them carefully on the counter. His eyes—widened slightly, making him look younger, more vulnerable without the barrier of glass between us and him.
"No," I said softly, cupping his face in my hands. "It doesn't bother me at all. It's part of who you are. I find it... intimate. Being observed so thoroughly by someone who sees every detail."
Something softened in Theo's expression, a rare unguarded moment from the usually analytical Alpha. His hands resumed their exploration, more confident now as they moved higher along my thighs. When his fingers brushed against the damp fabric between my legs, we both gasped—me at the sensation, him at the discovery.
"Your physiological arousal is significant," he murmured, his voice rougher than I'd ever heard it. "Fascinating."
"Less observation, more action," I breathed, my hands gripping his shoulders as his fingers continued their teasing exploration. "Please, Theo."
He complied with my request, his fingers sliding beneath the elastic to find the wetness waiting there. A low sound of appreciation escaped him as he explored me with the same methodical precision he brought to everything—finding each sensitive spot with unerring accuracy, cataloging each gasp and moan as if filing away data for future reference.
"Your responses are remarkably consistent," he murmured, his eyes watching my face intently as his fingers circled my most sensitive spot. "Yet each reaction has unique characteristics." His free hand slid up to cup my breast again, thumb brushing across the hardened peak in perfect counterpoint to the movements of his other hand.
I clutched at his shoulders, my hips moving instinctively against his touch as pleasure built within me. "Theo," I gasped, my head falling back as he slid one finger inside me, then another, curling them in a way that made stars explode behind my eyelids. The dual sensation of his mouth on my breast and his fingers moving inside me was overwhelming, pleasure building in waves that threatened to drown me.
“You are close to climax.” Theo observed, his voice strained as he increased the tempo of his movements. His eyes never left my face, cataloging each expression, each reaction as he worked me closer to the edge.
"Let go, Vivian," he murmured, his scientific precision somehow making his words more powerful. "I want to observe every aspect of your release."
His thumb pressed firmly against my most sensitive bundle of nerves while his fingers curled inside me, finding that perfect spot that sent me spiraling over the edge. I cried out his name as pleasure crashed through me, my body clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of sensation washed over me. Theo worked me through it, his movements gentling as the aftershocks rippled through my body, his eyes never leaving my face.
"Remarkable," he murmured, his voice filled with something close to awe as I finally collapsed against him, boneless and breathless. "The way your pupils dilated, the flush spreading across your skin, the involuntary muscle contractions—all perfectly synchronized." His clinical observations somehow felt like the most intimate form of appreciation.
I laughed softly against his shoulder, my body still trembling with aftershocks. "Only you could make scientific observation sound so sexy."
Theo's arms wrapped around me, holding me steady as I regained my equilibrium. Despite the analysis, I could feel his own arousal pressed against me, his body responding despite his controlled exterior.
"May I touch you?" I asked, my hands sliding down his chest toward the waistband of his pants.
Theo hesitated, his analytical mind visibly working through something. "While I would find that extremely pleasurable," he said carefully, "I think we should pause here."
I pulled back slightly, searching his face. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Not at all," he assured me quickly, his hands gentle as they settled on my hips. "Your actions and responses have been optimal in every way." His eyes met mine, unexpectedly tender behind their usual analytical sharpness. "However, we're in a communal kitchen, and the probability of one of the others discovering us increases with each passing minute."
I glanced around, suddenly remembering where we were—standing half-dressed in the kitchen. I bit my lip, debating on what to do before I took a deep breath, “Would you like to come back to my nest?”
Theo's eyes widened slightly, that analytical mind of his clearly processing my invitation. For a moment, I worried I'd overstepped, but then something shifted in his expression—a decision made, a calculation completed.
"Yes," he said, his voice lower than usual. "I would like that very much."
I retrieved my discarded clothing, suddenly shy despite what we'd just shared. Theo adjusted his own clothes, before the two of us made our way back to my room, hoping no one caught us as we did so.
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