Fifteen
“Sir, we have a dress code. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to—”
I pause right as I’m about to pass the hostess stand, pivoting to give this girl my full attention. I don’t give a fuck what their dress code is. I wasn’t changing out of my black tank before I left.
She eyes the collection of silver jewelry hanging around my neck, the dark, water patterned tattoos covering basically every inch of exposed skin from my chest to my jaw, the gauged ears, pierced lower lip, long black hair, and finally my eyes, way too icy blue to be very masculine, and she sucks in a breath, falling backwards into the stand holding all the menus.
I switch the toothpick I’m chewing from one side of my mouth to the other, smirking when her eyes follow it and catch on my fangs, leaning forward onto the podium so I can intimidate her even more. “No, thanks.”
I stride off, leaving her stuttering, my alpha dominance nearly choking her even though I’m pretty sure she’s human. Time to hunt down a naughty omega.
I went back to the office today thinking she’d take at least another week to recover from almost fucking dying, only to come home and find most of the household out to dinner.
Here I thought I was doing the noble thing, giving her space so she wouldn’t be quite so overwhelmed, but now I’m feeling like I kind of abandoned her.
As long as I get eyes (and maybe something else on her) in the next few minutes, I can continue to be a somewhat reasonable alpha. At least by my standards.
Moon was sitting at the home bar when I got home from work, pouting like an asshole, but I dragged the details out of him.
He was on babysitting duty, his words not mine, lost track of her while he was working, and resurfaced to find her no longer virginal and a bit more bonded than she was when she woke up that day.
I’m pretty sure all of us expected her to hole up with Anderson for a good week while she got her feet under her, but she’s already proving she’s the exact right type of trouble.
We didn’t have any sort of timeline in mind for when we thought we’d get to make the bonds real, but I do know existing in a house with an omega as potent as Fable, hearing her voice only behind a door, knowing how fragile she was and that I couldn’t touch her or hold her because she hated all of us, or so I thought, has made me fucking mental.
Even if it’s only been a day or two. Time is hard to keep track of with her wreaking havoc on us all.
I don’t know how the hell Monet managed to break through her defenses and secure his spot as her official alpha, but I will be having words with him later. Maybe ask for tips if it feels appropriate.
It’s not hard to find my pack in the dimly lit restaurant. The humans that make up the majority of the place are too quiet and the handful of non-humans too smart to draw attention from the highly dangerous pack of alpha vampires out with their omega.
I was up all night customizing shit for her wardrobe that I just happened to be already making, unwilling to let any other clothing touch her body when she wasn’t dressing for comfort. I don’t know if she knows where her new collection of dresses has even come from, but I really outdid myself.
Even sitting down, in a dark corner booth, she steals every ounce of my attention. The candlelight is throwing a soft glowing cast on her dark hair as she smiles at something Anderson is saying, her elbows on the table as her folded hands hold the side of her chin.
She feels me staring, and she slowly turns and stares back, calculating.
The other guys are dressed well, appropriately for the situation anyway, and here I come, unshaven, in a black tank specifically designed to show off the tattoos I suffered through, black jeans and leather boots with chains on the side, my jewelry sliding around my neck like I want more attention.
Not going to lie, it feels pretty damn good to know everybody in the place is looking at me and trying to avoid being noticed, because my alpha dominance is working overtime wanting to protect the omega that I can’t yet reach.
I don’t say anything as I walk up to their table, stealing a chair from a table next to everyone, ignoring the protest of the woman complaining her husband was using that chair, and take it one step further by spinning the chair around before wedging myself into the collection of chairs my pack’s got at their table.
They’re mid-meal already, and I make sure Fable’s actually eating, staring at her and then her plate over and over until she eats more of the rare steak on her plate. I swear she slides the fork over her lips slowly on purpose, knowing I’m watching.
She swallows, takes a hearty sip of her red wine, and wipes off her mouth delicately before addressing me. “Can I help you?”
I tilt my head to the side, sending out another wave of pheromones to see if she’ll submit.
“Knock that shit off, man,” Jos bites out, waving down their server to order more food.
Fable doesn’t fold though, impressing me. She doubles down, narrowing her eyes at me and resuming her clasped-hands-under-the-chin thing. “Feeling insecure over there? Clement, was it?”
A growl escapes because she knows damn well what my name is. “No, just wondering why I came home from work to find my omega not where she was supposed to be. Trying to figure out why she’s out in public, looking good enough to fucking eat, and I wasn’t even fucking told ahead of time.”
She holds what feels very much like a power pose a few more minutes before relaxing her shoulders and letting out a soft laugh, shaking her head like I’m a child. Then she just goes back to her meal and her conversation like I’m not even there.
She’s got her safety blanket next to her, but I know Anderson is a smart man that understands the pecking order. I stare him down and tilt my head to the side, making sure he hears exactly what I’m silently demanding.
He looks at Fable and kisses her on the cheek, whispers something to her, and then gets up to leave. He pats me on the shoulder in a friendly, golden retriever type way before heading to the bathroom, leaving me room to slide right into the seat he vacated.
Fable goes still next to me, a hiccup in her conversation with Monet on the other side before she puts more effort into ignoring me.
That’s fine, I don’t need her full attention to scent her.
I tip her head back and rub my face over the scent gland I can reach, then spit on it and rub it in with my thumb. I repeat the move on both of her wrists until she’s glaring at me, her gorgeous red eyes full of righteous indignancy.
I tip her head back and trace the mark that Monet left there, shooting him a look when he growls at the touch, but we’re pack. He knows I need to inspect it myself, so he cuts that shit out immediately.
“Is it symmetrical enough for your standards?” she sasses.
I lean forward just enough that she has to either move back or risk me touching her.
She holds her ground like I expected, fluttering her eyelashes in a way I’m sure she’s not happy about when my hand skims along her lower belly, wrapping across her opposite hip in a possessive hold.
“You keep mouthing off to your alpha like that and you’re going to get a handprint on your ass when we get home. Don’t test me, princess.”
She opens her mouth to say something else, but I shove my wrist at her, pushing her chin up into me until she’s forced to bite into my wrist. Maybe she’s already been fed today, but not by me. She takes a few pulls before I grant her permission to stop, licking my wrist to seal the wound.
A single, solitary drop of blood floats on the edge of her lip, so I slide it back in with my thumb, pressing a kiss to the side of her mouth when she doesn’t fight me.
After that she relaxes. She goes back to ignoring me, but the guys are used to my asshole behavior and trust me to know where the line exists.
They trust me to not cross it with an omega that is far different from our last fake one, who needs a bit extra attention from us if we want her to actually thrive in our pack.
The dinner moves on in a mostly peaceful fashion, my pack making concerted efforts to get to know our omega and show interest in her, trying to figure out what hobbies she’s into or might be into, everyone trying to one up each other when it’s clear she’s never felt safe enough or been given opportunities for such things.
Our pack has pretty vast resources, so I know the guys are good on their promises to help her learn new things, but omegas are usually most settled when they’re home.
She doesn’t seem to have much interest in doing a whole lot outside of the house aside from exploring different places occasionally, and that works for us.
I start tuning everybody out because I feel like I’m getting drunk on her scent.
I find my fingers tracing invisible lines on her arms, my face leaning more and more towards her hair so I can smell the concentrated scent there, my body scooting closer and my arm eventually just sliding around her shoulders so I can rub my thumb along the insanely soft skin beneath her ear.
It’s a damn miracle when she relaxes into me, and part of me wants to stand up and shout at everyone in the restaurant, to make them acknowledge the fact that she’s touching me willingly, my heart beating faster than it maybe ever has.
It’s emasculating that such an innocent touch has my alpha prowling dangerously close to the surface.
I eat the fancy-ass thing Jos ordered for me, then go for broke and full-on bring Fable onto my lap. The meal’s winding down, everyone trying to talk her into dessert, when she goes stiff on my lap and the cutest fucking growl comes out of her chest.
Fucking dumbass Moon.
Now sitting just a few tables over from us, facing us, is Moon and some woman he picked up from who knows where.
He’s trying to make Fable jealous, so she’ll give him attention, making some power play that is likely going to end very badly for him.
The fact that he’s pulling a stunt like this is near ironclad proof he did something to drive Fable away earlier, that there’s a good reason he wasn’t invited to a date he’s now feeling the need to crash with one of his own.
All the guys are stiff and glaring daggers at him, and likely all of us are wondering what the line is for Fable, how much shit she’ll take from our pack before she decides we’re not even worth it.
Fable quickly makes it clear she’s handling it on her own, but I follow her anyway.
She heads to the bathroom where Moon’s apparent date has just disappeared into.
I let her walk in alone, though I keep a foot in the door so I can hear anything that might happen.
I can’t see anything at all from the hallway, but I feel more relaxed knowing I’m only a few feet away.
Fuck anyone that takes issue with me protecting my girl like this.
I angle myself so I can at least see the sinks, where Fable has stationed herself in front of to primp. She’s straightening out a clip in her hair, reapplying a deep red lipstick one of the guys must have gotten for her, unabashedly staring at the woman now washing her hands.
“Was that Moon I saw you with out there?” my girl asks like a total trap.
The other woman, very human and dressed in a trashy body-hugging dress that definitely gives out desperate-to-be-noticed vibes, rolls her eyes and grabs a paper towel. “Obviously. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.”
Fable cocks her head, then gets bold and steps into the other woman’s space.
So fucking hot. Fable runs one of her long nails along the woman’s neck, and I’m almost sure she’s letting a little fang pop out, but I know for sure that she’s leaving her scent behind on the woman so that when she gets back to Moon’s table, he’ll know exactly what took his date so long to return.
“You should know he cries when he comes. Like, sobs. Last time, he broke down mid-orgasm and started telling me memories of his dead mother. While he was still inside of me. Girl to girl, just be careful. I also heard he’s got like, a daycare’s worth of kids he pays child support for because he can’t be assed to wrap it.
” Fable pauses and I catch her in the mirror looking the woman over head to toe.
“You’re not like the other girls though, so I’m sure you’ll be fine.
” Fable gives her a fake sympathetic smile and then pauses, like she forgot something.
“Oh. And when you get to his room, don’t ask about the collection of painted toenail clippings in the blue jar.
He keeps it right above his headboard on a shelf and he gets really weird about it when other people pay it attention. ”
I stifle a laugh as Fable pats the other girl on the back and wanders out of the bathroom, humming to herself. I kiss her on the top of her head as she starts walking back to the table, pausing briefly to steal an ice water off some poor spectator’s table.
I already know what she’s about to do and I whole-heartedly support it.
Fable takes the long way around to our table, so Moon doesn’t see her, though he’s visibly sweating watching the hallway where the bathrooms are, no doubt hoping his date comes out in one piece.
Fable tips the glass over right as she passes by Moon’s table, kicks him in the ankle with her strappy little sandals on, then proceeds to drape herself all over her newly bonded alpha, tipping her head back so her hair brushes the bench underneath them and her bond mark is on display.
Masterful.
Moon’s date stumbles out right afterwards, clearly making excuses to leave the restaurant alone, and Moon’s jaw muscles are so compressed that it’s changing his profile slightly. He nods at the girl as she walks off, and I fill the table in on what our little omega told his date in the bathroom.
They fucking lose it, but we all know exactly why Moon showed up here with another woman, in clear sight of Fable.
He wanted Fable to see that he had options, or something, and that her not wanting him or him acting like he didn’t want her, or whatever convoluted mess he’s convinced himself of, isn’t affecting him.
I have a feeling he’s just met his match in Fable.
Him and Winslow butted heads quite a bit, sure, but they also seemed to click better than anyone else.
For whatever pointless reason, Moon is still in denial about Fable and what she is and he’s trying to stay on his shitty little hill, and Fable has decided she doesn’t really care about the hill at all, and he can choose to believe her or not.