Chapter 3
3
GARRETT
H ours after the festival wound down and the sun descended, Ruby's scent lingers in my nose like honey and cardamom. The delicate scent that marks her as an unmated Omega should repel me. I've spent years avoiding unmated Omegas, keeping my distance and staying professional because I thought I never wanted to settle down. In truth, I have never been drawn to one so powerfully as I am to Ruby.
She's different. Everything about her is different.
From inside the bar, the winter festival's lights flicker outside through the windows as we clean up, casting dancing shadows across the worn wooden floor. Christmas lights strung across Main Street pulse gentle colors through the frosted glass, making Ruby's skin glow as she moves between tables. She keeps insisting she's fine handling the clean-up and carrying her merchandise from the booth outside into her bar alone.
I can't walk away. I've been watching her all day, keeping an eye on her, close to murdering that fucking ass harassing her. Then, thinking that by bringing an inspector to my booth, I'd be scared off. He has no idea who he's dealing with.
I contacted my two closest friends, Knox and Dominic, to update them on the incident with Marcus and the steps we need to take to handle him. They'll be meeting Ruby in the next week or two as potential mates. Ideally, we want an Omega to share, but in my mind, she's already mine. Whether she fits with them or not won't change how I feel—or my claim on her.
My priority is Ruby and her safety. Don't ask me what the fuck's gotten into my head so fast, but seeing she's the first Omega to ever affect me this way, I'm inclined to follow my instincts. Even if it means just ensuring she's safe.
So now, I'm helping her clean up in the closed bar.
She's changed from her festive red dress into black jeans and an oversized sweater that falls off one shoulder, revealing freckles I want to trace with my fingertips. Her boots make soft sounds against the floor as she works. She belongs here, among the gleaming bottles and brass fixtures, as much a part of the bar's soul as the ancient hardwood beneath our feet.
I grin, knowing that feeling. It's how I am in my bar.
"You really don't have to help," Ruby says for the third time, dropping another crate by the recycling bin. Her reddish-blonde hair has mostly escaped its messy bun, forming a wild halo around her face. There's a smudge of dirt on her cheek that my fingers itch to brush away. "I'm sure you have better things to do than clean up someone else's mess."
"Your cousin was out of line," I say abruptly, making her pause. "Bringing the health inspector to the festival, then to visit me? That wasn't about me. That was about getting to you." My hands clench around the rag I'm holding, remembering Marcus's smug smile. "He's a fucking coward, using bureaucracy to fight his battles."
Ruby's laugh is sharp and bitter. "Welcome to the Marcus Winters' playbook. He's been trying to get this place condemned since Aunt Eve died twelve months ago." She starts aggressively sorting bottles, the glass clinking like angry wind chimes. "Says a bar's no place for an Omega, but it was okay for my aunt, who was a Beta. Says I'm disgracing the family name." A bottle slips from her fingers, but I'm right at her side and catch it before it can shatter. The movement brings us close enough that I can see the tiny scar near her left eyebrow and smell the lingering festival spices in her hair.
"Careful," I murmur, setting the bottle safely aside. My hand brushes her arm, and electricity crackles between us. "These are getting heavy."
"I've been doing this alone for two years," she says, but there's less bite in her tone now. More exhaustion. "Ever since my aunt Eve..." She trails off, rubbing her temples. "Sometimes, I think Marcus is right. Not about Omegas running bars—that's bullshit—but about me not being strong enough to keep this place going."
My grip tightens on the rag until my knuckles go white. The thought of Marcus's smug face makes violence curl in my gut. I've seen his type before—wealthy Alphas who think their status gives them the right to control others.
"I should pay him a visit," I say quietly, watching her reaction. "Explain the concept of professional courtesy." Images flash through my mind—Marcus's shocked face as I corner him in his precious country club, my hands around his throat, teaching him what happens when you threaten someone else...
Ruby whirls to face me, eyes flashing. "Don't. Please. He's not worth risking your business over."
"He's already risking my business." I move closer, drawn by the way her pulse jumps at her throat. A strand of hair has fallen across her face, and before I can stop myself, I brush it back. Her skin is warm beneath my fingers. "More importantly, he's threatening yours."
"Why do you care?" She backs away, but there's nowhere to go—the bar's behind her, bottles gleaming. "You barely know me."
The question hits harder than it should. Why do I care? Why does watching her fight that bastard make my chest ache? Why do I want to destroy anyone who puts that haunted look in her amber eyes?
"I travel a lot," I say instead of answering directly. I lean against the bar beside her, close enough to feel the heat of her body but not quite touching. "Built my brewery's reputation across three continents. Told myself relationships were too complicated. Saw too many Alpha friends lose everything in messy bondmarks and broken claims. So, I accepted that it wasn't for me, but I watched my two younger sisters and how they struggled with fitting in, with how many treated them for being Omegas. I helped them as much as I could… well, in truth, it's as much as they allowed me." I chuckle, remembering their stubbornness, half reminding me of Ruby.
She watches me from the corner of her eye, fingers playing with the label on an empty bottle as she stands by the bar. "Smart policy."
"That's what I thought." I stare into those fiery eyes, trapping her between my arms as I grip the bar on either side of her. Not touching, but close enough to share breath. Every inch of me is attentive to how close she is, how quickly her chest rises and falls. "Then you almost fall off a chair this morning, and suddenly, I can't think about anything else. Can't stop wondering what you look like when you smile. What makes you laugh. Whether you sing along to the radio when you're alone in the bar."
Color floods her cheeks. "Don't say that stuff. That's the pheromones talking. It happens sometimes–"
"It's more than that." I cut her off, needing her to understand. "I've met plenty of compatible Omegas. None of them made me want to commit assault over a health inspection. None of them made my skin feel too tight just by existing in the same space."
That startles a laugh out of her—a real one this time, soft and surprised. Fuck me, but my balls are tight, pulling up at the beautiful sound. What is she doing to me?
"My knight in shining brewery gear." She eyes my Henley top, with my logo embroidered on my sleeve, my deep cargo pants, and down to my waterproof boots.
"I'm serious, Ruby." I catch her wrist when she tries to move past me, my thumb finding her racing pulse. Her skin is silk and fire against mine, and I have to fight the urge to pull her closer. "What Marcus did today? That's just the beginning. He's going to keep coming after you, keep trying to wear you down."
"I know." Her voice cracks on the words. "Trust me, I know. But I can handle it."
"You shouldn't have to." The words come out rougher than intended. My hand slides from her wrist to her waist, and she shivers. "Let me help."
"Why?" She looks up at me, defiance warring with something darker in her eyes. In this light, they're more gold than amber, flecked with shadows that make me want to chase away every bad memory she's carrying. "Because I'm some damsel in distress? Some Omega who needs an Alpha's protection?"
"Because you're extraordinary." The truth of it burns in my chest. My other hand rises to cup her face, thumb brushing across that smudge of dirt I've been wanting to erase all night. "Because watching you work today, seeing how your customers light up when you talk to them, hearing you explain the brewing process to that kid who wanted to start a home brewery... you're not just surviving, Ruby. You're thriving.
"Marcus wants to take that away because he can't stand an Omega being more successful than him. And because I know how damn hard it is to start against all odds. I started with fucking nothing, borrowed money, and was in debt to my eyeballs, but I worked damn hard to get my business off the ground. So, to see that shithead try to squish your dream, it hits something personal in me."
Her breath catches. We're too close now, the heat of her body calling to mine. She smells like honey and vanilla and determination, like everything I never knew I was missing. My head fogs, thoughts floating away.
"I can't..." She swallows hard. "The bar, Marcus, everything... I can't afford distractions right now."
"Is that what I am? A distraction?" I have no idea how I'm already feeling so obsessed with her. Yet I know the answer… Sure, it's pheromones, but it's so fucking much more, and I have no intention of walking away.
"You're a forest fire." Her laugh is shaky. "And I'm already burning."
I can't stop my free hand from sliding into her hair, cradling the back of her head, tilting her head back. Her eyes flutter closed at the touch, and something primal in me roars to life.
"Ruby..."
This time, when she shivers, it's not from fear. Her scent deepens, flooding me with desperate desires, with a hunger so strong, it makes my head spin. I lean closer, giving her time to pull away.
She doesn't.
The first brush of my lips against hers is gentle. The second is pure possession. She tastes like winter spices and sex, her mouth opening on a gasp that I swallow hungrily. My fingers tighten in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, our mouths mashing together, my body pressing against her, feeling the softness of her breasts, the trembling of her body. Her hands clutch my shirt, nails scraping my chest through the fabric.
I kiss her like a starved man finding air. Every soft moan she makes vibrates through my bones, setting off primal instincts I'd thought long buried.
Protect.
Claim.
Keep.
Mine .
Her back arches, pressing harder against mine, her nipples hard, and I growl into her mouth. My free hand slides down her side to her hip, drawing her closer, eager to feel every inch of her. She makes a desperate sound that nearly undoes me, her fingers moving to tangle in my hair.
I need more—I need all of her.
When I finally pull back, my hands on her hips to lift her up on the bar, we're both breathing hard, but she instantly places a palm on my chest, pausing me. Her lips are swollen, her pupils blown wide, her hair a mess from my hands. I want to kiss her again. Want to fuck her right here on the bar, to make her scream.
Then she shoves me away so hard, I stumble.
"No," she says, voice shaking. "No, no, no. This isn't happening. I'm not ready for an Alpha, not sure I can trust…"
I can still taste her on my lips, can smell how our scents have mixed together into something intoxicating. Fuck, it's an addiction.
"Ruby—"
"Get out." She wraps her arms around herself, looking smaller somehow. "Please, just… I can't do this. I can't."
Everything in me fights against leaving her like this, my cock so hard in my pants, it aches, but I force myself to step back.
"I'll go if that's what you wish."
"Yes, it is." But she won't meet my eyes, and we both know she's fighting her own temptation.
I make it to the door before turning back. Ruby is still pressed against the bar, looking lost and frowning and fucking beautiful.
"For what it's worth," I say quietly, "I'm not trying to save you. I just want to know you."
Then I walk out into the night before I can do something stupid like kiss her again until we end up fucking. The cool air does nothing to clear my head—I can still smell that delicious sex scent, still taste her honey, still feel the pressure of her lips against mine.
I force myself to keep walking.
Ruby might not believe in fate, might not want anything to do with Alphas or relationships or me, but I know one thing with bone-deep certainty.
She's mine. She just doesn't know it yet.