Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
I’m nervous. I shouldn’t be. This is just a casual dinner with an Alpha.
Well, my Alpha. My scent matched Alpha.
Technically, my soulmate, right? Like the person who completes me?
Oh fuck this does not feel casual.
Should I wear shoes when having a date at home? I don’t usually wear shoes at home, but I do on dates. Would my outfit look weird without shoes?
I should get shoes.
Are my feet weird? I’ve never looked at my feet like that before.
I think my feet may be weird.
The doorbell rings.
Damn, too late for shoes, then.
As I walk to the door, I smooth my hands down the front of my dark-wash jeans and pull the hem of my slinky green tee. When I open the door slowly, Emmanuel stands before me, holding a bouquet of pale pink, ivory, and black flowers.
It’s really stunning.
“Hi, Crystal.” His voice is breathy in a way I haven’t heard before in a man. It’s like a cool breeze. It feels comfortable and calming. “You look beautiful.”
Maybe I didn’t need the shoes.
I take a step back from the door so he can come in. He’s got on a pair of straight-legged blue jeans with a short-sleeved red button-up patterned with little black birds that are so small they almost look like polka dots. “You do, too. I mean, handsome. You look handsome.”
He steps forward and hands me the flowers. “I got these for you.”
“They’re gorgeous. I’ve never seen flowers like these before.” I gesture for him to follow me into the kitchen of my small town home and dig out a branded beer glass I got in a gift set, since I don’t have a vase. As I arrange them, I luxuriate in Emmanuel’s soft crème br?lée scent that surrounds me when I’m this close to him.
“You know, I don’t live too far from here,” he says, breaking the semi-awkward silence. “Only about a ten minute walk.”
“Oh, did you walk? I walk to my sister’s from here.”
“Yeah, I try not to drive if I don’t have to.” What he leaves unspoken is it’s a pain in the ass at best and impossible at worst to drive with a migraine.
I place the makeshift vase on the small dining table just off my kitchen. “Are you hungry? I thought we could order delivery.”
I would love to go on a walk and have dinner with him in public, but if any of Kieran’s minions saw us and reported back to him, Emmanuel would be in danger, and I can’t let him get hurt because of me.
He smiles and leans against the kitchen island. He’s freshly shaven today, with his hair styled in dark waves, a little product holding them in place artfully. He looks loads better than when I first saw him.
“Sounds like a plan. There’s that Greek place over on 10th Street. Do you ever eat there?”
“Oh, all the time. I love the falafel and moussaka.”
A broad smile stretches across his face, and my breath catches in my throat.
He’s so fucking beautiful. A man should not be allowed to be that beautiful.
Emmanuel pulls out his phone and searches for the number. “Me too! Let’s get an order of each and some baklava?”
I can feel the flush coloring my neck as I duck my head. “I actually made dessert. Crème br?lée.”
Emmanuel’s large hand reaches out and touches my shoulder. My stomach does this swoopy thing that makes my knees weak. “I can’t wait to try it.”
Once the order is placed, and he refuses my attempt to pay half of it at least six times, we move to my living room and perch awkwardly next to one another on the couch.
“So, what do you do for a living?” I ask because I am the best at small talk.
He reclines back a little and crosses one leg over the other. “I’m a web designer. I work freelance so that I can dictate my own schedule. It helps, what with the whole…” He makes a gesture around his head. “It got too hard to work for someone else when I called out so much.”
“I get that. And you like it?”
“Yeah, it’s a job. It’s not my dream or anything, but working a job that isn’t my passion is fine by me.”
I pull a throw pillow into my lap, toying with the tasseled edges. “I agree. I think there is a lot of pressure to follow your dreams, and sometimes it gets forgotten that working a job that pays the bills so you can live your life how you want is the dream of many.”
“Is the Design Clinic your passion?” He tilts his head to the side, shaggy, dark hair swooping into his eyes with the movement. Crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell the story of someone who has smiled a lot over his lifetime.
I scoot a little closer as he speaks, unable to deny the magnetic draw I feel towards him. When he notices, he opens his body to let me get closer. “It is, and it isn’t. I want to help people, and I love research. One day, if I can get my doctorate, I hope to be able to run my own trials and studies. But for now, my main focus is ensuring my sister and niece have a good life.”
He brushes a stray piece of hair out of my eyes. “You have a sister? I feel like you know a lot about me because of the nature of your job. I don’t know anything about you, Crystal.”
I exhale slowly, trying to decide what is safe to tell him.
“Yeah, I do. My parents died when I was young, so my sister practically raised me. It was really important to her that I go to the Omega Academy, but honestly, I’ve never really felt like much of an Omega or enjoyed being one.” He leans a little closer to me, our arms touching. “I never thought I’d have a pack at all. Didn’t really want one. No offense.”
“None taken,” he says with an understanding smile. “I don’t have a pack. But you knew that, right?”
Chuckling, I nod sheepishly. “I did. It’s in your file. It’s one of the reasons why I feel comfortable getting to know you. I can’t imagine scent matching with someone outside of a bar or something, then moving in with five dudes the next day and being expected to get to know all of them.” I shudder dramatically. “It’s my nightmare, I swear.”
“Why would you move in immediately? Are you expecting me to move in?”
“God, no. I feel like Omegas are always so quick to jump into the arms of Alphas. Couldn’t be me.” I pull my feet up on the couch, crossing my legs. I’m glad I didn’t end up putting shoes on. “Not that you’re not great. But we don’t know each other well enough yet, you know?”
“I get it. This is weird, right?” He chuckles and leans a little closer to me. “I’m almost forty years old and feel like a teenager on my first date.”
My eyes widen when he mentions his age. I had forgotten entirely. “Uh, you know I’m twenty-eight, right? Wait. Of course, you don’t. How would you?” When I look up at him, his eyes are wide, and he looks like he’s counting on his fingers.
“Eleven years. I’m eleven years older than you.” My gaze flicks to his hands, and he taps my nose with his finger. “I’m bad at math, don’t judge me!” I can’t help but laugh at him, even though it dries up quickly.
“Does that bother you?” My voice is surprisingly small. I don’t think I realized how much I want this to work. Even though it’s a bad idea, and there is no world in which I’m allowed to keep an Alpha like Emmanuel, the idea of this being over before it begins because of my age makes my chest hurt.
He takes my hands gently in his and gives me a broad smile. I’m looking at him differently now, seeing the age in his smile lines and the small amount of gray at his temples. He’s incredibly handsome, and with his soft, sleepy smile, he looks almost vulnerable. “Not at all. It’s a little weird because I’m sure we’ll find differences since we’re basically different generations, but I have no doubt we’ll figure it out.” He gulps, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. His voice comes out strangled. “You’re my Omega, Crystal. Nothing is going to keep us apart.”
If only that were true.
* * *
After dinner, I pull out the ramekins of custard and sprinkle the tops with sugar. “Emmanuel, can you grab the torch?” I point at the top shelf in the far cabinet. “It’s up there.”
“You can call me Manny if you want. I know Emmanuel is a mouthful.”
“I will sometimes, I’m sure, but I like Emmanuel. It’s not a name I hear often.”
“Me neither. My parents are a little old school.” He doesn’t have to rise on his toes to grab the culinary torch from the cabinet for me. He’s not super tall by any means, but he’s got a few inches on me. “You have a blow torch in your house. An Omega with a blow torch.”
“Culinary torch,” I correct, clicking it on.
“That feels like a potaytoe, potahtoe situation.” He leans on the wall beside me. “It’s still blowing out straight fire. What does it run on?”
“…butane.” I duck my head as he bursts into laughter. “Okay, fine, it’s a blow torch, alright? Now, let me concentrate. You don’t want your sugar to go bitter.”
He watches as I pass the torch over the sugar sprinkled on top of the custard. When they’re done, I hand them to him as I grab spoons. We settle at the table, and I watch as he lifts his dish to his nose and takes a sniff.
“This is what I smell like?”
My face warms, and I busy myself by cracking the sugar and scooping up some of the custard of my portion. “Yeah, like a sweet, caramelized sugar and then the buttery, creamy custard.” I shove a bite in my mouth to keep me from rambling.
Emmanuel hums to himself as he carefully cracks the sugar and scoops a spoonful. I find myself tracking the spoon on the way to his mouth, zeroing in on the way his lips wrap around it as he sucks it into his mouth.
I don’t think it’s supposed to be this erotic.
I become acutely aware of how close he is to my nest. To where I go into heat.
He looks like a giving, sensual lover. Like he’d hold me as our bodies writhed together, talking me through it as he leaves me panting and slick. Will he want to help me through my next heat? I throb between my legs at the idea of it.
His eyes snap to mine, and his nostrils flare. This close to one another, he may have smelled an increase in my pheromones from the way my mind just ran wild. He’s kind enough not to mention it.
“This is delicious,” he says in a cracked voice. “If this is what I smell like, I’m flattered.”
“Do you want to see my nest?”
The question is out before I can acknowledge his compliment for my cooking. Despite how rude my interruption is, he stands up slowly.
“I would love that.”
Well, now I’m committed.
I become acutely aware of how sad my nest is when I watch the Alpha fold himself into the room. It’s basically a large walk-in closet. It could fit four people. Maybe. If we’re on top of each other. But still, he coos, “Omega, it’s a lovely nest.”
I preen and duck my head. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I feel his hand on my lower back before I register that he’s pulled me close to him. “Best I’ve ever seen.”
“You don’t mean that.”
His hand tangles in the hair at the base of my neck, dangerously close to the blighted bond that rules my life, as he tilts me up to look into his eyes. “I do mean that. It’s the best because it’s yours. It smells like you. It’s got your personality in every corner. What could possibly be better?”
“Thank you, Alpha,” I breathe out.
“I’m going to kiss you now, Omega.” His dark eyes sparkle as his hand moves from my nape to cup my cheek. I give a weak nod, my knees wobbly at his proximity.
When he kisses me, it’s as if a part of me that lay dormant wakes up.
I wonder if it would’ve been like this with Maverick if we weren’t both high, and I wasn’t lying to him. If we were just two people admitting what we are to one another.
The kiss is languid, our tongues tangling together lazily as our bodies drift closer to one another until I am pressed tightly against him. When we finally come up for air, he presses his forehead against mine and lets his eyes fall shut.
His face is relaxed, and there is no trace of the stressed and pained man I saw in the clinic last week. I wish he could always be this way.
“I’m suddenly understanding why Omegas move in with their Alphas immediately,” I whisper.
He chuckles, capturing my lips in a kiss again. “I think we’ll have to wait until I’m no longer your patient. But I must admit, I’m tempted to drop out of the program.”
That statement sobers me. I can’t let him do that, especially because this will never be able to go anywhere real as long as I’m stuck with Kieran. “No, you can’t do that. You deserve the treatment. I hope it works for you, and then, when it’s done, we can be together.”
The words aren’t true, but the hope behind them is.