Chapter 18 #2
I register the change before I understand it, a prickle along my spine that warns someone is tracking our movement through the crowded eating area.
Emily senses it, too, her stride faltering, her shoulder tensing where it brushes mine while we walk.
Quinn tugs at Leif’s sleeve, pointing toward a display of honey sticks in rainbow colors. “Can I have the cherry one? Please?”
Leif reaches for his wallet, but his attention remains divided, his broad frame angled toward our group as if sensing the same undercurrent.
Then a voice pitched to carry across the tables, rough with morning whiskey, reaches us. “Well, look at that. There’s the Alpha bitch and her pet predator.”
The fisherman who spoke leans back in his chair, his weathered cap pulled down over faded eyes, but not far enough to hide his smirk. He raises his mug in a mock toast, inviting reactions from his companions.
Laughter ripples through the nearby tables, ugly in its eagerness.
My throat closes, shame burning up my neck. The weight of every stare presses in, judging, condemning.
Part of me wants to step away from Emily, to spare her the association. But the part that makes me an Alpha, despite my inability to smell pheromones, wants to confront the speaker and defend her from the crude characterization.
I do neither. Instead, I find myself shifting closer to Emily, my shoulder meeting hers.
Emily’s body goes statue-still beside me, her jaw clamped so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath her skin. Her fingers curl into fists at her sides, knuckles whitening. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t speak, but rage radiates from her in waves.
I lift my chin higher, fighting the instinct to duck my head and avoid eye contact. Heat continues to climb my neck, but I force my spine straight. This isn’t just about me anymore; it’s about Emily, who stood by me when no one else would. Who now faces mockery because of her kindness.
To my left, Grady shifts his position. Without a word, he angles himself forward, one shoulder ahead of mine, his cane tapping hard on the sidewalk.
His face remains neutral, but his posture speaks volumes, the mild-mannered Beta vanishing to be replaced by a man who made a name for the famous author, Aurora Storm.
Most surprising is Leif’s reaction. The reserved Omega squares his shoulders and stands taller. His considerable height turns imposing as he steps closer to our impromptu line, forming a solid barrier that also places Quinn safely behind him.
The fisherman’s smirk falters, and his eyes drop to his mug as the laughter around him dies a quick death. He’d counted on the social instinct to distance oneself from contamination and packless Alphas having no famiy to back them.
Instead, he faces a group that, despite its unlikely composition, stands united, at least for now.
My heart pounds, surprise tangling with gratitude. At the construction site, no one stepped in. They’d let me wrestle plywood until I dropped it, laughing when I failed. Alone. Always alone.
But here, in the middle of Pinecrest’s market, three people I barely know close ranks around me without hesitation, Emily fierce as steel, Grady steady despite his limp, and Leif a quiet wall of strength shielding Quinn.
I didn’t ask for their defense. Didn’t expect anyone except Emily to stand with me.
The awareness that these near-strangers have chosen to align themselves with us, with me, sends warmth spreading through my chest, easing the burn of shame.
One of the fisherman’s companions tugs at his sleeve, murmuring words I don’t catch. The group at their table shifts with discomfort, finding sudden interest in their food.
The moment stretches, taut as fishing line, until the man turns away with a muttered, “Not worth it.”
The tension breaks, and conversations resume around us. People return to their meals and shopping. The confrontation dissolves into nothing, leaving only the echo of solidarity in its wake.
Emily releases a breath I didn’t realize she was holding. Her fist unclenches, fingers flexing at her side. She doesn’t acknowledge out loud what just happened, but her shoulder remains in contact with mine.
“I’ll take three honey sticks,” Leif tells the vendor as if nothing happened. “Cherry, lemon, and…” He peers down at Quinn. “What’s your third choice?”
Quinn bounces on her toes, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around her. “Blue raspberry!”
The vendor wraps the honey sticks in brown paper, her eyes darting between the four of us with curiosity. When she hands the package to Leif, her eyes brighten, carrying a kindness that has nothing to do with professional courtesy.
Grady shifts his weight, his cane no longer tapping. “They have decent coffee at the stand by the book vendor. Anyone else need caffeine before we continue?”
“I could go for a cup,” Emily says.
“Make that two,” I add, the words coming easier than I expected.
Leif’s hand finds Quinn, who clutches her honey sticks with gleeful anticipation. “We could use a hot beverage to wash down the sweetness.”
As we move away from the food stalls, our positions have shifted. Emily still walks beside me, but Grady and Leif have closed ranks, forming a protective wall around me that I wasn’t expecting.
As Emily measures her stride to match mine, I risk a peek at her profile, noting the furrow between her brows, the tightness at the corners of her mouth. She’s not angry anymore.
Or not only angry.
A tangle of worry and protectiveness flickers across her face when she thinks no one is watching.
At the coffee stand, Emily and I grab a table with Quinn and guard Grady’s grocery bag while he and Leif go to buy coffee.
They return a few minutes later, and Emily rises to take two of the cups, murmuring her thanks.
Her fingers brush mine as she passes the second black coffee to me, though her eyes remain fixed on some middle distance, thoughts churning.
Leif helps Quinn crack open her first honey stick, his large hands surprisingly delicate as he pinches the end. “Slow squeeze. Make it last.”
Quinn’s delighted giggle cuts through the lingering tension, bright as sunshine after rain. “It’s so sweet!”
I take a sip of my coffee and peek at Emily again, only to find her watching me thoughtfully.
When she realizes I caught her, she turns away, her throat working.“Thank you for standing your ground back there.”
The gratitude catches me off guard. “I should be thanking you. All of you.”
“Can’t stand bullies,” Grady mutters, and Leif grunts in agreement.
Grady studies a booth selling handmade journals. “Chloe would love those,” he tells no one in particular. “She’s always collecting notebooks she never fills.”
“Quinn’s the same way.” Leif tickles his young charge. “Should we pick one for your Aunt as a surprise?”
In response, the little girl leaps out of her chair and races over to the stand. Leif sets his coffee cup down in a hurry and chases after her.
Grady chuckles. “He has his hands full with her.”
“What’s Blake up to while his niece is distracted today?” Emily asks.
“He, Nathaniel, and Chloe are having a beach date.” Color rushes to Grady’s cheeks. “Supposedly, they’re whale watching.”
Emily hums over the rim of her cup. “Good for them.”
She takes a sip of her coffee while keeping a watchful eye on Quinn’s movement, and wistfulness passes across her face, there and gone so quickly I almost miss it. “Quinn reminds me of my niece at that age. Fearless.”
Did Emily hope for a pup with Auren? Selfishly, I’m glad it never happened. My one meeting with the self-centered, manipulative man made it clear he’d never tolerate anyone else receiving more attention than him, not even his own child.
But I can picture a silver-haired pup running barefoot through Emily’s house, and my chest vibrates with a purr.
Emily’s boot kicks mine under the table. “Stop it.”
My rumble peters out, and heat creeps up my neck, but I can’t shake the image from my mind. If Emily wants pups, I’ll try my best to give them to her.
As an Alpha, I can’t carry a child the way male Omegas can, and female Alphas have a significantly lower chance of becoming pregnant themselves, since their wombs are so much smaller and harder to reach, but I think I’m up to the challenge if she’ll let me.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?”
The honey-sweet voice cuts through our moment, and Emily freezes, her coffee cup tilting dangerously as her fingers go rigid around it. I reach out to steady her hand without thinking, feeling the tremor that runs through her arm.
Then recognition slams into me, and I turn my head to find a slender figure a few feet away, thin arms crossed over a lavender silk shirt in perfect harmony with his sculpted lavender hair.
Auren.
Of course, he’d show up here, right when Emily was opening up, allowing herself to be vulnerable again.
Last time we crossed paths, I saw the fangs behind the silk, the way he uses his fragile beauty to manipulate. Nothing about him surprises me now.
What does hit me is Emily’s reaction.
My Alpha, who faced down a dock full of jeering men and a market crowd eager to brand me a predator, shakes at the sight of him.
He barely said anything, and she’s folding under the weight of his presence. That’s his real power. Not beauty. Not pheromones. But the memory of what he’s already taken from her.
Everyone else may see him as the perfect, fragile Omega, but I see the viper under the silk, and I won’t let him sink his teeth into Emily again.