Chapter 10 Foster
FOSTER
This assignment is a lot harder than I thought it’d be. Raven is a temptation I never saw coming. There’s something about the little omega that calls to my alpha and makes me want to take care of her.
Just trying to keep things professional would be hard enough, but the job is also more grueling than I anticipated.
Raven’s publicist insists she goes to all the skating competitions to show her support for the other skaters.
That, combined with her practices, means she’s at the arena for hours every day.
It’s always crowded. Half the people think she’s an inspiration and want her autograph.
The other half think she shouldn’t be here at all.
Then, there’s the small subset who actively want to prevent omegas from ever coming back.
I constantly have to be looking out for that last group.
Not to mention all the damn people who check her out constantly.
It would be a lot, even with just that, but Raven’s team also insists on taking her to every historic sight in Milan and capitalizing on every public appearance possible. The woman rarely has a minute alone and falls into bed exhausted.
She needs a night off. Or a good massage.
I can practically see the muscles in her shoulders growing tenser each day.
When she couldn’t sleep last night, my resolve almost broke.
I wanted to bury my face between those muscular thighs and really make her pant.
A good orgasm or three would have knocked her right out.
Flexing my hands to keep from rubbing her shoulders, I offer her a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. The least I can do is make sure she’s eating enough.
It’s become a routine for us to have a quick breakfast together each morning before her coach inevitably rushes in with the revised schedule for the day. It’s always revised. There’s always something added. A new interview. A lunch date with a potential sponsor. A tour of the cathedral. Something.
“Thanks,” Raven says, fighting back a yawn that leaves me once again thinking about how she couldn’t sleep last night.
Our conversation plays in my head on a loop. The memory of her soft little pants has my cock half-hard again. I don’t think she realized she was so loud, and there’s something extra fucking hot about her not being able to control herself like that. I wish I knew exactly what she was thinking about.
“You should go back to bed.” I tighten my fist on my coffee mug.
Raven’s laugh is soft and without humor. “Yeah, ‘cause that would go over real well.”
“Your practice time isn’t until this afternoon. Cancel whatever they’ve got scheduled this morning and get some rest. You need it.”
She shakes her head and focuses on her eggs. “Did you know farmers in the US produce, like, 100 billion eggs each year?” she blurts out before I can lodge another protest.
I blink, unsure of where that came from, and now focused on the part where she said 100 billion. I realize she’s trying to change the subject—and I’ll let her—but not without a little teasing, first.
“Well, I’m sure the chickens lay the eggs, not the farmers.” I smirk.
The little omega gives me a blank stare for a moment before releasing an inelegant snort and bursting into laughter. I can’t help but laugh along with her. Shit, how long has it been since I’ve laughed like this? Something loosens in my chest.
When Raven can breathe normally again, she wipes tears from the corners of her eyes. I cross my arms and give her an assessing stare. “Where did you even learn that? Or did you just make it up?”
“Ahh, well, before coming to Milan they had me touring the US. For some reason, one of those stops was at a Future Farmers of America gathering. It was sort of random, but I go where they tell me. Annnddd I also tend to remember random facts. I mean, 100 billion is an astronomical number! It kinda stuck in my head.”
Raven blushes, her cheeks turning a pretty pink as she looks at her plate and sets her fork down. The color is almost vibrant on her alabaster skin, and I want to see if she blushes like that everywhere. Want to see how pink her skin can get.
We fall into a more comfortable silence than we had before her silly outburst, but I still can’t get my thoughts under control.
My cock twitches as I think about all the ways I could mark up Raven’s flawless complexion.
The little bruises I’d leave on her inner thighs from spreading her wide for me.
Red indents from my rope. I’d like to tie her up in a pretty pattern and ravish her until her brain shut off, until she relaxed and—
“Are you ready?” Ana says, bursting into the apartment without so much as knocking. She looks Raven over while still holding the door open. “Good. Let’s go.”
Just like every morning, her interruption comes too soon. Raven scrambles to drop our empty plates in the sink while I grab my gun and our jackets.
Outside, the weather has turned colder, the cloud cover lower than yesterday.
It’s supposed to snow this afternoon, but it looks like it might start up sooner than that.
Raven tugs her coat closed and zips it up to her chin.
She’s gonna catch a cold going out in this.
Especially since her publicist still insists on her wearing dresses whenever she’s not practicing.
She says they need to play up her omega-ness. Whatever the fuck that means.
Ana rambles on about the history of Milan and how lucky Raven is to be able to experience the art and culture. Fuck, does the woman ever shut up? Apparently we’re headed to see some painting done by a dead dude.
Okay, it’s the famous Last Supper piece done by Leonardo da Vinci—but it’s still just an old ass mural. Why would Raven even care about that, and how the hell is her staring at a wall going to help improve the image of omegas in the Olympics.
I bet it’s not even that impressive. I’ve seen the Mona Lisa in person at the Louvre. It’s small.
Someone must have caught wind of where we were going, because the second we step out of the car at the gallery, the paparazzi are waiting.
“Over here, omega!” someone hollers. “Smile for the camera.”
Raven drops her head, her long hair covering her face.
I instinctively wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her to my side, pushing through the crowd.
I’ve worked in security for years now, so this isn’t anything new for me.
My last client was a movie star who constantly got this kind of treatment.
But I wasn’t expecting an Olympic athlete to garner this level of attention.
I scan the crowd, looking for anything suspicious as I direct Raven toward the gallery.
Before we reach it, something comes flying toward us. I see it a second before it hits and curl myself around Raven to protect her. The balloon full of pink paint hits my shoulder and explodes over half my face. It’s followed by a rock that grazes my ear.
“You’re supposed to be here to compete, not sight-see! You’re useless. Go home! Let the real athletes have a chance!”
A crowd with picket signs has moved to block our path to the door.
I change course, grabbing Raven’s hand and running down a side street.
In her low heels, she slips on a patch of ice, and I barely manage to scoop her into my arms before she falls.
With sure feet, I keep running. I can hear footsteps behind us, but no one else has turned the corner yet, so I duck into the first little shop I see.
It’s a tourist trap, but cuter than most. The front of the store is filled with locally made wood-carvings while the back has jars of jam, bars of soap, shot glasses with the Italian flag on them and other overpriced knick-knacks people might want to buy as souvenirs.
I quickly carry Raven to the back, away from the window. Her publicist and coach weren’t fast enough to keep up with us, but I don’t really care about them right now. My only concern is the omega in my arms.
“Are you okay?” I ask, looking her over. “You didn’t hurt yourself when you slipped, did you?”
She’s breathing hard, and there’re a few speckles of paint in her hair, but she seems unharmed. I’ve got one arm banded under her back and the other under her knees so I can’t give her a thorough examination, but I’m not ready to let her go.
“I’m fine.” She reaches up with a gloved hand and rubs her thumb across my cheek. “You’ve got…” She smiles impishly. “You look good in pink.”
A chuckle rumbles out of me. “Is that so?”
“Or maybe it’s just really hot that you took a bullet for me,” she whispers.
“It wasn’t a bullet.”
“I meant it as a figure of speech.” Her lips curve up, cheeks and nose red from the cold, eyes sparkling. She’s beautiful, and I can’t look away.
“I would take a bullet for you,” I whisper.
Her smile turns down, eyebrows creasing like she doesn’t like that thought. “I guess that’s your job, right?” She squirms, no longer looking at me. “You can put me down now.”
But I don’t want to stop holding her. She feels right in my arms. My grip tightens, and I drop my head, inhaling with my nose along her neck, right at her scent gland.
It’s a subconscious action, a way to calm my alpha nature.
I only realize I’ve done it once I catch the lightest whiff of something sweet breaking past her blockers.
Adrenaline will do that sometimes. It’s faint, barely there at all, but… fuuuuuck.
She smells like snickerdoodles. Warm, spicy cinnamon and sweet sugar. Absolutely delicious. My mouth waters, my teeth aching in a way they never have before. Even with her scent still half-muted, it’s the best damn thing I’ve ever smelled. I can practically taste cookies on my tongue.
Could she be…? No, I’m just overreacting.
Still, I can’t stop myself from nuzzling closer. When I do, she inhales and makes another one of those breathy sounds she made last night. Can she scent me, too? Probably not. I’m taking strong scent blockers, and my body is used to adrenaline spikes. Unlike hers.
I drag the tip of my nose along her jaw, her chin, all the way around to the scent gland on the other side. She shivers. I tilt my head, lips brushing the column of her long neck. Opening my mouth, I let my teeth scrape over the delicate skin.
“Y-you should probably set me down,” Raven murmurs.
Her soft voice breaks through my haze. Huh? I shake my head, pulling back to look at her flushed face. What the hell am I doing? She’s my client. I shouldn’t be holding her like this, and I definitely shouldn’t be teasing her neck with my teeth and dreaming about sinking them into her.
I set her down a little too fast, and she stumbles into a rack of leather belts. I catch her elbow just in time, but she still manages to knock a few things off the top shelf. As I pick up the fallen belts, I have the sudden vision of wrapping one around her wrists.
Before returning the last belt to the rack, I drag my hand along the soft leather. I’m almost tempted to buy it under the guise of needing one for myself, but I practice the so-called ironclad restraint I brag about having and put it back.
Raven’s phone rings at the same time as mine.
“It’s Coach Ana,” she says, glancing at the caller ID.
I show her my screen. “Your publicist.”
“We should probably get back.”
“Not yet.” I take her phone out of her hand before she can answer.
She gives me a puzzled look, but doesn’t argue. One of these days I’m gonna get her to push back, but for now, I’ll use her easy submission to take care of her.
“Come on.” I grab her hand and swell with pride when she doesn’t pull away. “We’re not going back until you’ve had a nap and a long soak in a hot tub.”