Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
I stand in front of the baking aisle at the specialty grocer, lamenting the lack of options for vanilla beans. I want to make crème br?lée for Emmanuel tonight. And maybe he won’t be able to taste the difference between Tahitian and Madagascar vanilla beans, but dammit, I can.
I guess Madagascar will have to do.
Digging through my basket, I mentally add the total to ensure I’m not over my budget. I have enough left over to make a nice mocktail.
One of the weird side effects of being on his medical team is that I know Emmanuel doesn’t drink alcohol because of his migraines. That’s fine with me. I drink, but it’s not something I need a partner to do.
I’ve been looking forward to this all weekend. We’ve been texting daily since we met, and I know my feelings for him are becoming more permanent with every message. I fear he’s being woven into my DNA.
And that may be the worst thing to ever happen to him.
I slide into line behind a tall, red-haired Beta and begin digging through my purse for a hard candy. I love the cherry ones the most and nearly squeal when I find one, popping it in my mouth happily.
“Crystal?” The man in front of me turns around, and I smile when I see Gage, my tattoo artist. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Emphasis on fancy. I didn’t know you shopped here!”
Gage leans on his cart casually. He’s younger than me by a few years, but that doesn’t stop me from appreciating his attractiveness—tall, with broad shoulders and covered in tattoos. I especially like his short-cropped beard and mustache. I can tell he takes care of it. He shrugs with one shoulder and beams a smile that shows off his crooked, crowded teeth.
I’ve always liked his smile. It’s warm and approachable.
“I have celiac, so I eat gluten-free, and they have the best selection.” He gestures at his cart, full of pasta, bread, and prepared foods stamped with a “gluten-free” starburst. “I don’t cook much with my long hours, so having easy shit on hand is a necessity.”
“Makes sense. How’s Burger?”
He pulls out his phone and shows me the goofiest-looking mutt I’ve ever seen. He’s midsized, maybe thirty pounds, with wiry gold fur and one ear that sticks up. His tail points up with a curl that touches his spine, and a big black and pink tongue hangs out.
“He’s good, as meddlesome as ever. I came home the other day, and he’d shredded his entire bed.” He shakes his head, shoving his phone in his back pocket. “I’ll figure it out. Growing pains, you know? We’ll come into our routine eventually.”
I wish I could have a pet, but working two jobs doesn’t leave me much time for it. I have Sunday through Tuesday off from Prism, but on the other days, I leave the clinic and head straight there.
“It’s weird seeing you outside the shop,” I blurt. “You look different without your gloves on.”
“You look different with pants on.” Gage’s face turns bright red, and his mouth gapes a couple of times like a fish out of water. When I crack up, my laugh bubbling out of me with such force that I bend over, he breathes a sigh of relief. “I am so sorry! That was unprofessional. I don’t know where that came from.”
“You’re good, Gage. I needed that.” I’ve felt a little tense since my conversation with Puck last Wednesday. It wasn’t just discovering that he has an unknown depth to him, but the guilt that I had painted him with such a one-dimensional brush.
And his proclamation about turning garbage into art? It hit a little too close to home.
Will my Alphas see the art that I can be? Or am I forever destined to be the trash they walk past on the street?
He begins loading his items onto the belt, sneaking glances at me as he does it. “Still, I’m sorry about it. How’s the piece healing?”
I ghost my fingers over my thigh. “Well, as always. You’re great at what you do.”
For four years, Gage has been a soothing balm on my pain without knowing it. Every time Kieran forces his bond on me, branding me and my skin and making me uncomfortable living in it, I get a tattoo. A way to reclaim my body. A way to mark every time he tries to force his will on me.
Every time he tries to take away my autonomy.
I wonder if he hopes that one day it will take, or I’ll slip up and let him bite me when I’m in early heat.
I would kill myself before I tied myself to him for the rest of my life.
“You ever consider coming and seeing me outside your regular schedule?” Gage asks, shaking me out of my depressive spiral.
I shift awkwardly from foot to foot as shame heats my face. “Ah, no, I can’t afford anything more. I have to scrimp for the ones I get as it is.”
“I don’t think I know what you do besides that it’s something medical.” Gage ignores the attempt at flirting from the cashier and does not even look as he swipes his card. I unload my basket under his intense stare.
“I work at the Design Clinic as a research assistant, currently focusing on chronic pain patients.” Do I tell him about Prism? What if he shows up to see me or finds out who I am?
No, I’ll keep that to myself.
“Wow, that’s pretty impressive.” He pushes his cart to the side, leaning against it as he talks to me, even though he’s paid and checked out.
“Hopefully, one day, I can return to school and get my doctorate, but I don’t think it’s in the cards. I still haven’t paid off the Academy or secondary school.” The cashier tells me the total, and I count out the cash. There are a lot of singles from my tips last night. I angle my body in hopes of hiding it from Gage.
“How did I not know you were an Omega Academy girl? I feel like I should’ve known that.” His voice has a teasing lilt, and he bumps his shoulder into mine.
Snorting, I gather my bags and leave the store with him by my side. “I don’t exactly fit their image, do I? You certainly won’t find me on any recruitment pamphlets.”
I was never pretty enough for the Academy. I’m too plain, too thin, too ‘alternative.’ They wanted me in dresses and pearls, and I did it because I had to, but it was never what I felt comfortable in.
It’s not that I don’t like my body or how I look. It’s just that I didn’t fit the “Perfect Omega” ideal perpetuated in the media at that time.
I was unlucky enough to be a young Omega when Nora Summers was presented to the world as the Perfect Omega. Of course, now we know the darkness surrounding that title, but I resented her so much back then.
How could I compare to her, with her curvy body and soft, gentle nature? My curves are nearly nonexistent, and I have been called abrasive all my life.
In some ways, the Queen is the closest I’ve come to presenting the personality the Omega Academy always wanted for me.
But I don’t unload all of that on Gage.
“They hate me because I refuse to go to their socials to find a pack. I don’t want one. I guess someone kept requesting that I go to the socials, and it looked bad that they couldn’t get me there.”
“Why don’t you want a pack? No judgement,” he adds quickly. “Just curious.”
I’m ashamed of the busted car that Gage is watching me load my groceries into, but I’m not keen to end the conversation yet. It’s the first time I’ve been able to chat with him without being wrapped up in grief and pain from the forced bond.
“Well, I should caveat it and say I didn’t want one. Never pictured myself with one. But I met my scent match at work last week, so…” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “He’s a nice guy, and I’m going to try to get to know him. But I worry that having an Alpha will make my life harder. I hate how controlled Omegas are. I already have a guardian assigned to me, and some people don’t want me to make decisions for myself. Shit, some businesses won’t serve me unless my Beta sister is with me. I’m not trying to sign up for a life of being controlled by an Alpha who may or may not have my best interest at heart.”
Not that I think Emmanuel is like this at all. From our conversations, he’s more likely to request I take control of situations rather than snag it himself.
Of course, this all ignores the fact that if Kieran finds out I’m with another Alpha, the chance of their untimely demise increases tenfold.
“That makes a lot of sense. It’s kind of why I’ve never dated an Omega. I didn’t want to be pushed out by an Alpha who decided they didn’t want to share.”
My chest twinges a little at Gage’s words for a reason unbeknownst to me. It’s not that I’ve ever thought Gage and I would date, but I never considered that he would write me off entirely. That I would lose a chance I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready to take.
I kept a fantasy that one day, after my bond faded for the last time, I would come to him, and he would give me one final tattoo to celebrate my freedom and pull me into his arms, confessing his desire for me.
For me, there is no healing from this trauma without Gage Matthews.
And he doesn’t even know.
My voice is quiet as I place my hand on his bicep. “Any Omega worth their salt would stand up for you, Gage. You’re a great guy. Don’t limit yourself to one designation because you’re borrowing worry.” I sigh and lean against my car, crossing my arms over my chest. “But I guess I’m doing the same, right?”
He snickers and shrugs. “I wasn’t gonna say it, but yeah, you are. But hey, you’ve got an Alpha now, huh?” There’s a bit of thickness to his voice that I don’t recognize, which has me stuttering my response.
“Not- no- I mean, I guess?” I laugh uncomfortably. “It’s hard for me to accept, even if Emmanuel is a really nice guy.”
“Oh, I know an Emmanuel.” My eyebrows raise in curiosity. “He’s a good guy. Was friends with my older brother. Used to let me tag along all the time and then still looked out for me after my brother ditched.”
“Hard to imagine you as a little kid, honestly.”
He runs his hands through his auburn hair and smirks. The expression is so sexy that my stomach does a little flip. “Ah, but I’m all grown up now.” His hand pauses halfway through his hair. “That sounds way cooler in books than in real life, ew.”
I try hard to hold my laugh in, but it doesn’t work, and soon, he’s flushing red in embarrassment. “Anyways, now that I’ve put my foot in my mouth so many times that I’m going to cough up toenails-”
“Ew, Gage!” My laughter starts all over again. This time, he joins me.