8. Jordan
Chapter eight
Icarus drives a boring car that does not match his wild ass name. I climb into the grey sedan and startle when he reaches over me and buckles me in. I raise my brow at him, but he shakes his head as if my concern is the silliest thing he's seen today. "I've got to keep you safe."
I don't argue. I've been around long enough to know what is said about Alphas. Especially newly matched ones. He's probably wound very tight, and his instincts are riding him hard to wrap me up in bubble wrap.
"Do you want to take me to my car?" I ask as he pulls out of the parking lot.
"I thought I was coming home with you." His words are clipped.
Did I hurt his feelings? He doesn't look at me, one hand on the wheel and the other on my knee.
"You are," I impress upon him, something instinctual within me eager to please him. "But I can't leave my car at the grocery store. I figured you could take me to it, go home, get your cat, and then come over?"
He visibly relaxes. "Oh." Glancing at me from the corner of his eyes, he nods. "I can see why that would be a good idea. However, I would much prefer if you came to my home with me first so I could follow your car home." Icarus clears his throat. "You know. For safety."
I start to protest, the words sitting at the back of my throat, ready for me to throw them out, but then I slow down and think for a minute. Why would this be a bad thing? Because I've been on my own, independent for so long? What is the harm in letting this kind, handsome, successful Alpha take care of me?
I mean, he could be a murderer.
Fuck.
He could be a murderer.
"Vick, are you a murderer?"
"Icarus isn't, but Vick may be if you keep calling me that."
I cross my arms over my chest in a huff. The scrubs bunch awkwardly around my chest. "I don't think murdering your Omega is going to fly with the medical board."
"Well, good thing Vick doesn't have a medical license. Or an Omega. Icarus Valentine does." Despite the sharpness of his words, humor glints in his eyes.
"If we're gonna pack up, can we take my name?"
"Goddamnit, Jordan. You're going to give me heartburn." He turns into a parking garage under a modest apartment building. "You run in eight thousand directions at a time."
"Boo hoo, Vick. I don't know if you realized it, but I just went through some life-changing shit today." I get out of the car and slam the door loudly.
"Oh, did you? You became what you've known you'd be for sixteen years. It sounds to me like you finally got your wish. And bonus, you get matched up with a sexy, if kind of awkward, doctor!"
He presses the elevator button a little too hard. I don't think we're actually arguing. There is no malice in either of our tones. What I think is happening is that we both have confusing, big feelings running amok within us and no idea what to do with them, so we're just being an annoying sitcom couple to release that pent-up frustration.
"You are incredibly attractive, which makes this so weird!" I groan, leaning my head against the elevator wall. It's slow as hell and clearly in need of a tune-up. "I wake up not just as an Omega, but a scent matched Omega. To my cute doctor. Oh, and by the way, Pack Stargazer somehow found out, and now I maybe gotta cut tail and run."
"Who are they to you?" he asks, crowding me against the wall. "Why did we run?"
"An elevator isn't enough time to explain it, Icarus." His body brushes lightly against mine, and I melt under the barely-there sensation like a touch-starved Omega.
Which, I probably am, now that I think about it. It's been a while since someone warmed my bed, and I am an Omega.
Ah hell.
I grab the front of his white button-up and yank his body against mine, crashing my lips into his. Icarus tenses momentarily, and then his whole body molds itself to my own, and he devours me. His kiss is bruising, a brand upon my skin that leaves no doubt about what it means.
I am his.
I should be scared. I should be worried. This is fast. We're strangers.
But that's how it always is. That's what they say. You meet your scent match, and suddenly, you're falling into bed with one another, instantly in love, unable to be apart.
I kind of get it.
The doors to the elevator open on floor twelve, and he pulls away, grabbing my hand and heaving me out of the car. Only five or six units are on this floor, and he is right off the elevator bays.
Inside, his place is clean and orderly but lacks personality. There are a few family photos on end tables and bookshelves. So many bookshelves. It seems that's the primary source of decoration. Beautifully bound books of all shades fill massive shelves that take up an entire wall. I want to say something exponentially stupid like, "Oh, are you a reader?" but bite my tongue.
I need him to think I'm cooler than I actually am. Just until he bonds me, I guess. Then he's stuck with my weirdo ass.
"Make yourself comfortable," the Alpha says, glancing awkwardly around. I can tell he doesn't entertain much. That's fine. I don't either. The only person who ever comes over is Lanie, my best friend.
Oh shit, I have to tell Lanie.
"Do you have my phone?" I call out, wandering to try to find the Alpha.
"No, I think it's in the plastic bag, still in the car. Would you like to use mine?" He pokes his head out of a room off the kitchen. The kitchen is lived in, so I think this Alpha can cook. There's also an electric tea kettle and a fresh fruit bowl on the counter. It's not what I would have expected from a bachelor pad.
The room he's in must be his bedroom. I follow him in, and he doesn't stop me. The bed is meticulously made, and its corners are crisp. I've never seen such a well-made bed outside of a hotel. He's got a suitcase open on it and carefully, meticulously folds clothing and places it in. He takes his time, and I watch him, enraptured at the precision he moves with.
His smile is crooked as he holds out his phone to me. "Still want it?"
Damnit. He knows I was watching him.
"Yeah, thanks." I step out of his room and back to the living room for a semblance of privacy and flop on the couch, my legs hanging over the arm as I dial the familiar number.
"This is Lanie, how can I help you?"
"Bitch," I laugh, "is that your customer service voice?"
"Jordan? What number are you calling from?"
I grab a maroon throw pillow and prop it under the back of my head. He has good taste. Maroon is one of my favorite colors. "Well, that's why I'm calling. Some shit went down today."
"Spill. Now."
"Okay, so I presented as an Omega, scent matched with a hot doctor, and that pack I told you about, Stargazer, somehow knows I'm an Omega and found me at the hospital, so now I've got to figure out a way not to be found by them."
"Hold the fuck up. I'm sorry. I'm SORRY. You're an Omega?" Her voice is almost an incomprehensible screech.
"I've been telling you that. No one believed me." Well, Vick did. He believed me immediately.
"And you've got an Alpha? Just like that?"
Lanie is a Beta, and she is vocal about just how little she knows or wants to know about Alpha and Omega dynamics. I doubt she even watches shows or reads books that focus on them.
"Yes, just like that. Scent matches are soul mates."
"And he's hot?"
"Insanely," I laugh. "You can meet him soon."
"And the Stargazers?"
"Yeah, I don't know what is going on with that. The nurse said they were claiming I was their Omega. I just… My name is out there. If they make the connection between my real name and my work name and call the office, please don't tell them anything."
"Of course, but how will I know it's them?"
I inhale deeply when a massive orange cat climbs onto my chest. He stares me down with big amber eyes and then screeches before settling down.
"What the hell was that? That didn't sound like Blush."
"That was the massive orange beast that appears to be pretending to be my Alpha's cat. Holy shit, he weighs a ton." I try to shove the cat off of me, but he turns into dead weight, and I sigh, accepting that I am nothing more than a breathing bed for his highness. "Anyways, you'll know. They apparently waited at the hospital for hours."
"Bitch, you didn't say shit about a hospital."
"Because I'm fine. Anyways, I'm at his house, and I should probably help him pack up some of his stuff since he's coming to stay with me for a bit."
"Okay, but we're getting brunch on Sunday, and I'm meeting him."
"Of course. Alright, love you," I tell her, pulling the phone away from my ear to hang up.
"Wait! What's his name?"
"Icarus."
"Oooh boy. Yeah. Call me when you get your phone because I gotta know more."
"Yeah, yeah, byeee!" I end the call and poke the large cat on the forehead. "Are you gonna let me get up?"
"Mrow."
Okay, cool. He's got a back-talking, sassy cat. That's fun. I stroke down the creature's back, and he rumbles with a purr. "You're a sweetie, though, aren't you? What's your name?"
"Daedalus." Icarus's voice rumbles, and I look up to see him leaning over the couch, "Dae for short. Looks like he likes you. He's an asshole."
"What's the significance of the name?"
"Uh, Daedalus was Icarus' father…" he ruffles his dirty blonde hair, his face flushing. That's when I notice he's changed into a blank tank and grey sweatpants.
Grey. Sweatpants.
Who the hell does this doctor think he is? Does he not understand how dangerous those pants are?
His arms are corded with muscles, but he's not bulky. His figure makes it clear he takes care of himself, but it's not a personality trait or anything.
I can't help it. My mouth waters a little, looking at him.
And I'm in scrubs, probably looking like a whole ass mess.
He is looking at me, expecting a response, but I can't even remember what he said over the roar of arousal that is filling my head. Eventually, when he raises his eyebrow at me, I clear my throat and squeak, "Cool name."
Chuckling, he moves into the kitchen. "Alright, well, I'm about ready. Do you have a tea kettle?"
"I absolutely do not. I have an espresso machine."
"Do you mind if I bring mine?" He's already grabbing a dish rag and drying off the inside of the kettle. "I drink a lot of tea."
Who is this man? He loves books, has a cat, and drinks a lot of tea. And he smells like a day at the spa, like relaxation and comfort.
He opens a cabinet and grabs a cherry wood box about the size of a file folder but inches thick. "What's that?" The cat hopped off me to follow him into the kitchen, freeing me from the couch, so now I get to peer over his shoulder nosily.
The box is old, and the lacquer has lost its sheen. On top of it, there is a carved rose. It's intricate, with painstaking details on each of the petals. He opens the lid, and inside are rows of glass jars, each full of various dried things.
"That's all tea?" I ask, reaching over his shoulder to pick up one of the jars. "But this looks like fruit?"
He chuckles, gently plucking the jar from my hand. "I have some fruit teas, yeah. You'll have to try one someday." He places the jar back in, closes the lid, reaches into the cabinet, and pulls out a large tulip jar. It's about half full of tea, and clearly, it's his favorite.
"What's that one?"
He looks over his shoulder at me and smiles. "It's chamomile." He removes the metal hooks holding the lid closed and raises the container to my nose. "Smell."
Inhaling deeply, the tea's floral, slightly sweet scent drowns out his crisp eucalyptus momentarily. "It smells great," I tell him honestly. He hums to himself as he closes the jar, gently placing it on the counter. In a blink, he spins, grabbing me around the waist and pushing me backward until my ass hits the sink.
"That's what you smell like. For thirty years, I have had a cup of chamomile tea every night before bed. Imagine my surprise when I realized I get to have you before bed now, too."