Chapter Eight – Raeka
I’m sitting in the living room, watching some stupid show about omegas being airlifted to an island and then set free, where packs of alphas try to find them, totally ignoring my mom’s dour looks from a few feet away. She stands with her hands on her hips, her red lips curled in a frown.
“Raeka, I made a lunch date for you. You can’t just not show up. You made me look like a fool in front of Lorain—”
“Mom,” I tell her, “I said I’m not interested in meeting any of your friends’ kids. They’re probably as lame as your friends, no offense.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “There is only so much I can do for you. The next time I set up something, you’ll show, even if your father and I have to drag you kicking and screaming.
” For an omega, my mom sure has an alpha’s attitude sometimes.
If Nicole were here and not at school, she’d probably be the meek little omega and agree with everything our mom is saying.
“You’d be better off knocking me unconscious first,” I mutter.
My mom lifts a finger at me, probably about to wag it, but our family butler comes out of nowhere and politely interjects: “Excuse me, Mrs. Whittenhall, Ms. Whittenhall, but Alan outside claims there is someone here to meet with you.”
“I have nothing scheduled,” my mom is quick to say.
“Not you,” he says, and then he looks at me. “The caller is for Ms. Whittenhall.” Our butler, Henry, is a meek beta who never kicks up a fuss about anything. He’s happy to be of service as he’s packless, never bonded to another. For a man who nears sixty, it must be a little sad.
Or not. Maybe he’s fulfilled. I don’t know. I’m stuck on the whole caller-is-here-for-me thing.
“An alpha?” My mom is suddenly in a good mood, just like that.
Henry nods once.
“His name?”
“A Mr. Gideon.” The moment he says the caller’s name, I perk up a little. I can’t help it. Gideon was a no-show at the Omega Garden after the restroom incident, and I assumed I’d never see him again.
What’s he doing here? Why does he want to see me ?
My mom glances at me, then at Henry, as the wheels in her head spin out of control.
It takes her a moment to say, “Let him in. Bring him to the lounge. I’ll greet him first. And you—” This next part is said to me.
“—you should change and freshen up. I assume you met this Gideon at the Omega Garden. Maybe his other offers didn’t pan out, but that’s good. A second chance for you.”
My mom’s insinuation that I’m second or third choice for this alpha sits wrong with me, but to get her out of the room, all I do is smile and nod. It’s enough to placate her, and she leaves with Henry.
I sit there, staring at the wall next to the TV, too lost in thought.
One thing for sure: like hell am I going to freshen up.
I’m wearing leggings and a baggy shirt. Who gives a shit if I don’t look like the prissy omega my mom wants me to be?
I’m lounging around at home for once; what am I supposed to look like when a random alpha stops by?
No. I’ll get up after a while and find them, and I’ll be wearing exactly the same clothes. My mom can suck an egg.
Gideon is here. He can’t be here to write an offer. That’s so… old-fashioned. Then again, he did seem a little weird the night of the choosing ceremony. Maybe he’s here to tattle on me, though I don’t know why it would matter that I used the men’s restroom because the women’s was so damn busy.
I’m stumped. I am. Totally, completely, one hundred and ten percent stumped.
Patience is not one of my virtues, so it kills me to sit there and wait.
I try to imagine what my mom and Gideon could be talking about—hell, I really don’t think he’s here to write an offer for me.
The alpha is closer to my mom’s age than mine; I know love knows no age limits once you’re above twenty-one, but man…
that alpha’s probably twice my age, or just about.
And weird.
Did I mention he was weird?
The longer I sit there, doing some mental gymnastics, the more confused and curious I become. If the alpha is here to write an official offer, might as well hear him out and get it over with. I’m not the kind of girl who likes to beat around the bush. I’m much more of a straightforward kinda gal.
I wait for what I hope is an acceptable amount of time, and then I heave myself up and shuffle through the house.
No one else is home. Dad’s at work and Nicole is at school, so it’s just me, my mom, and Henry—and now Gideon.
The family chef doesn’t come until three in the afternoon to start prepping dinner.
I come upon the lounge and hear muffled voices: my mom and Gideon, of course. My mom’s tone comes off as ridiculously excited and also, strangely, in awe: “Well, I’m certain Raeka will approve—”
“I do hope so. My house has been quiet for too long.” That’s Gideon’s voice, and his comment makes me tense up, just outside the arch to the lounge, where neither my mom nor he can see me.
His house has been quiet for too long? So that means this is an official offer for me. Shit.
My mom laughs. “Once Raeka moves in, trust me, the quiet will be in the rearview mirror. She can be rather… loud sometimes, although she describes herself more as passionate than loud.” Just the way she says that word makes me think my mom doesn’t appreciate my passion.
And why would she? She likes being an omega. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her complain once. She married up, into the Whittenhall family, and birthed four kids—two alphas and two omegas. She did her job, and now she gets to bask in all the glory.
I straighten myself out, run my fingers through my hair, and puff my chest out, mostly to help myself cool off before storming in there and telling them both what’s what. I’ll tell ‘em what’s what, and then I’ll give them both a giant middle finger.
Or, you know, a regular, omega-sized middle finger.
I walk around the corner of the archway and stroll into the lounge, finding my mom and Gideon near the liquor cabinet.
She must’ve poured two glasses, one for herself and one for Gideon, but Gideon either didn’t accept or set his down; his rests on the cabinet’s countertop, while my mom clutches her sparkling glass with elegant, jewel-covered fingers.
Both he and my mom turn their gazes to me as I walk in, and though my mom shoots me a death glare, wordlessly scolding me for not changing and freshening up, I stare only at Gideon.
The alpha looks much the same as he did on the night of the choosing ceremony.
His tall frame is clad in a navy-blue suit, with a darker blue undershirt whose hue is just shy of black.
His dark brown hair is combed back, not a hair out of place.
The man knows how to put himself together, I’ll give him that.
“Raeka,” my mom says. “I thought you were going to change before meeting our surprise guest?” She asks the question through bared teeth, trying and pretty much failing to hold things together while Gideon looks on.
And how does the alpha look on? It’s hard to say. He’s studying me, taking in my somewhat messy appearance, but I don’t see any twitches of displeasure on his face. He is surprisingly hard to read.
“I was going to, but I didn’t want to keep our guest waiting,” I say, flashing Gideon a tight smile. If he’s expecting a welcoming omega, he won’t get one from me. With about fifteen feet between us, I’m as close to him as I want to be.
And, what’s worse, even from where I stand, my nose is picking up faint whiffs of him and his alpha pheromones.
His musk threatens to overpower my scent dampening injections.
It’s not quite time to give myself a booster, so I’ll just have to suffer through this meeting and hope it ends quickly.
Good thing I’ve made a habit of applying that cream after every shower.
I assume it’s only because of that cream that Gideon’s gaze doesn’t dilate when he looks at me.
Alphas. They’re basically one step above animals.
“I’m sure Gideon would have understood,” my mom goes on, unwilling to let it go.
“Nonsense,” Gideon says before I have the chance to respond to my mom with a snippy comment. “I’m more than happy to dive right into things. Mrs. Whittenhall, I don’t suppose you have a garden? I would love to take Raeka for a little stroll.”
What a bonkers thing to say. Take me for a stroll? In my own house, on my own property? What a weirdo.
My mom loves her garden. Anytime she has an opportunity to show it off, she will gladly do so—even if she’s not there in person to do the showing-off herself. She smiles at him and says, “Yes, there’s a rose garden just off the patio. I can—”
“I’m sure Raeka knows the way,” he easily interrupts my mom, and then he strides closer to me, closing the distance between us in a few steps. “Shall we?”
I really would like to tell him off, tell him I’m not for sale, that I don’t need any alphas, especially one as strange as him, but with my mom looking on, my resistance is probably best given when she’s not a few feet away.
I’ll tell him to screw off as we walk the garden together, and I won’t hold anything back.
“We shall,” I say, motioning for the alpha to follow along like a good dog.
I hold my head high as I lead him through the house, toward one of the back doors.
We exit onto the patio where my parents like to entertain their bougie friends.
Just beyond the outer stone is the rose garden, full of immaculately-kept bushes of all colors, deep in bloom.
Of course, my mom isn’t the one who keeps them tidy. We have a landscaper for that, someone who comes every weekend. Does that stop my mom from calling it her rose garden? No, no it does not.
I’m the first to step onto the stone pathway that winds through the rose bushes, and when I glance back at Gideon, I find his head bent, his eyes on my bare feet. “You don’t want shoes?” he asks.
“I’m not afraid of a bee sting, if that’s what you’re worried about.
” As I reply to him, I find my mom gazing out of one of the windows nearest the door we just walked out of.
I bet it’s killing her not to be out here, to not be eavesdropping.
I’m going to enjoy telling off this alpha as much as I’m going to relish making my mom squirm inside.
“If you say so,” he says, taking the step off the patio and onto the path with me.
We start walking, more side-by-side instead of me taking the lead.
I don’t look much at him, instead paying more attention to the pretty yellow roses next to us as we walk along.
“Your mother said you didn’t accept any offers after the choosing ceremony. ”
I chuckle. “Of course she would frame it like that.”
“Excuse me?”
Glancing at him, I tell him the truth, “I didn’t accept any offers because I didn’t get any.”
“Oh.” His legs slow to a halt, and I’m sluggish in stopping with him.
“Oh?” I echo. “Does that bother you? I told you that’s what I wanted. If it bothers you so much, maybe you should leave—”
“No,” he says with a single shake of his head, his dark blue gaze resting comfortably on me. “It doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, it makes things easier.” Leave it to this alpha to say the one thing I’m not expecting him to.
“How?”
“You strike me as someone… different. I need someone different.”
“What kind of weird kinks you got, Gideon?”
As I deadpan the question, the alpha himself nearly chokes on air. “That’s not—dear God, that’s not where I’m going with this at all.” He quickly glances away, and unless I’m mistaken, his cheeks had darkened in color somewhat, like the man is blushing.
How… adorable . A blushing alpha. What a strange thing.
I’m a master at toeing the line, so I keep digging in. “So, you’re not here to tell me you want to put your baby in my belly?” Don’t ask me how many times I’ve read that line in romance novels. To me, that line just isn’t sexy at all.
“No!” He reaches up and loosens his tie, the put-together man suddenly looking a bit hot, but maybe it’s the sun beating down on us making him all hot, not me.
“That’s not…” He trails off for a moment, before coughing and regaining his composure.
“I wanted to speak with you alone because my offer is unconventional.”
Is he gay? Is he just looking for an omega for his pack? Sexuality is fluid, especially where packs are concerned, but in some old-fashioned circles, I suppose there are still those who look down on alphas who don’t have an omega of their own.
“You have to say more,” I tell him. “Because my mind is running a mile a minute here.”
“I told your mother I want to put in an offer for you,” he says, and though a part of me hates hearing those words come out of his mouth, another part of me enjoys it way more than she should. My inner omega is pleased, the bitch. “And that’s how it would look to the world, but…”
But?
I have zero idea where he’s going with this, and when it becomes clear he’s hesitant to outright say it, I have to say, “But?” What’s the catch here?
And then, when he says what the catch is, I’m thrown for a loop. I literally don’t know what to say, so for a while, I don’t say much at all.A minute passes, then two, and one word finally comes to me: “ What ?”