Chapter 53
FIFTY-THREE
Knox
I TOLD MYSELF THAT staying out of the way while the others got Jez settled into her nest was for the best, and that doing so wasn’t a hardship. I’d never been wired for sex or romance the way most alphas were. Not until that fateful night in the hotel bar with Jez, anyway.
I’d gone a good chunk of my life not giving it much thought, or having any specific word for the way I felt.
Then someone had bandied around the term asexual, and I’d been curious enough about it to do a brief but fairly deep dive into the label—just like I did with anything I came across that seemed interesting or useful enough to bother learning about.
My quick research foray resonated to the extent that afterward, I’d privately considered myself ace-spectrum, sex-neutral, and possibly demiromantic.
.. after which, I didn’t give it much more thought.
My instant attraction to Jez—not to mention my out-of-character invitation to have her come up to my hotel room—had been an aberration, I told myself.
Then, I’d walked into the pack house after Tony brought me home from the hospital, running straight into the unexpected wall of pheromones generated by Jez’s heat. One breath. That was all it took for every higher brain function inside my skull to route its blood supply directly to my dick.
For a terrible few moments, the single, overriding imperative driving me had been to barge upstairs, drag Heath off of my would-be murderer, and get myself knot-deep inside her willing body.
I’d been around omegas in heat before. In our line of work, it was unavoidable. However, I’d never been around a scent-matched omega in heat. That fateful couple of minutes before Gage injected me with a dampener shot had rocked the foundations of a lifetime’s understanding of myself.
I hadn’t been in control.
I hadn’t been sane.
Additional research was clearly in order.
That research had turned up the label ‘philyrasexual,’ a term specifically describing alphas who only experienced sexual attraction when they were also scent-matched to the recipient.
And now, here we were.
The only person I’d ever found myself sexually attracted to was the same woman who’d nearly succeeded in murdering me... and who’d turned out to be an otherwise amazing person, if you could overlook that one tiny fact.
Now she was mated to my two packmates, and the three of them were currently curled up in a gorgeous nest with the adorable beta who’d also become part of my pack.
Tony had somehow wormed his way past the demi- in demiromantic.
.. and the net result was that I really, really wanted to be in that nest with them, despite it being a terrible idea.
I gritted my teeth and pulled up the latest email from the law firm I’d hired to deal with the Paolo situation—making a concerted effort not to think about what might be happening inside Jez’s nest right now.
Paolo, who apparently wasn’t as stupid as one might infer from his horrific choice of mate, was demanding full immunity from prosecution in exchange for his testimony. I had a hunch the others would have some strong feelings about that, after everything the little douchebag had done to them.
But the thing was, Paolo wasn’t going to traipse away after the trial and organize his own omega trafficking ring. Taking down Lorenzo Vozzina was more important than getting revenge against Vozzina’s simpering trophy omega.
If the feds are willing to go for it, I’m fine with that, I replied, before hitting send.
Resolutely not thinking about the other omega I’d let off the legal hook recently, I turned to the pile of mail on my desk and opened the manila envelope sitting on top.
The following day, that caramel-coffee scented temptation in omega form sat across the same desk from me, as I went over her newly arrived legal documents with her.
“Birth certificate, social security card, Illinois REAL ID card, passport, mating certificate,” I said, fanning the items out in front of her.
“These papers are enough to allow you to travel internationally, open bank or investment accounts, get a driver’s license, and receive government benefits—such as they are in this country. ”
She looked a little shell-shocked. Uncertainty laced her scent. “So, I’m really Jessica now?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re still Jez to everyone here,” I told her, remembering what she’d told me once about her given name. “But Jezebel is gone forever, assuming you still want her to be.”
She was quiet for a long moment before speaking again.
“That name can rot in hell with my father,” she said eventually.
I nodded. “Then, may I say what a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance properly, Jessica Knockley, née Smith?” I stuck out my right hand unthinkingly as part of the joke.
She eyed it for a beat before taking it in hers and squeezing as we shook.
Tingling heat rushed down my arm from the point of contact, and I barely managed to swallow my gasp.
Jez didn’t manage to swallow hers, and we both pulled away as though we’d been burned.
My dick twitched with interest, thickening uncomfortably against the seam of my trousers.
We stared at each other wide-eyed for the space of a heartbeat. I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Erm... anyway... I was thinking we could arrange driving lessons for you. I’m assuming you never had a chance to learn?”
Her mouth moved for a moment before words came out. “Uh... no. I never did.”
“Then we’ll get you lessons,” I said, cursing the growing ache between my legs. The faint scent of aroused slick rolling off Jez’s body only made things worse. “You, er, you should also start thinking about what kind of car you’d like to own.”
She blinked at me in bewilderment across the expanse of polished wood. “You’re going to buy me a car?”
“Well... yes?” I replied, equally bewildered. “Come to think of it, Tony needs a better one as well.”
Several emotions flickered across her face in quick succession. I couldn’t look away, although a hint of trepidation stole over me as a calculating glint entered her gaze.
“What about a motorcycle?” she asked.
I tried not to acknowledge my flicker of panic at the idea of my pack’s omega crashing a motorcycle and ending up as a gory red smear on the pavement.
For one thing, it was hypocritical, since Heath had owned a motorcycle when I’d first met him, and I’d never fretted randomly about him getting hurt on it.
Was this the much-vaunted alpha protective instinct rearing its head? Jesus, what a pain in the ass.
“If that’s what you want,” I made myself say. “Although I’d suggest a car as well—winter in Chicago is no joke.” I realized I was talking to a woman who’d lived as an unhoused person for years, and mentally cursed myself. “Which, of course, you already knew.”
She gave a sharp little laugh and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Right. A motorcycle and a car. Why not?”
“The other thing I’d hoped to discuss with you is a bit more of a sensitive subject,” I said, not wanting to get bogged down in a discussion of what she did and didn’t deserve to own as a part of this pack. “Gage mentioned that you’re an avid reader?”
Pink flushed her pale cheeks. “It was always a way to escape for a few hours,” she said. “And libraries are safe places to spend time.”
Gage had passed that tidbit on as well.
“Makes sense,” I told her. “Again, I’m making an assumption here—but I’m guessing you don’t have a high school diploma or GED?”
“No,” she said in a wry tone. “Obviously not.”
“We can remedy that if you’d like,” I replied. “Along with any university-level studies you might want to pursue eventually. I only mention it so you’re aware it’s an option.”
“Really?” She seemed genuinely shocked, as though the possibility of getting a formal education had never occurred to her.
“Really,” I confirmed. “There’s no pressure... it’s just something to think about.”
She chewed her lip for a moment before letting it pop free. I wasn’t proud of the way my eyes fixated on that small movement of the tender pink flesh.
“I will,” she said. “Thank you, Knox.”
I managed a grim little smile for her. “Don’t thank me until after you’ve crammed for a final exam at four in the morning,” I told her.
Obviously, the smart thing would have been to pawn the details off on Heath, since Gage was out of action for the foreseeable future.
And yet, that same afternoon, I found myself saying, “I need to make a quick trip to the office to sign some papers. Jez, if you’d like to come, we can set up those driving lessons on the way back. ”
I didn’t miss Heath’s double-take... or the way Jez’s expression shuttered across a look of surprise.
“Um... okay?” she said. “Give me five minutes to get ready.”
Bud picked us up in the limo without comment, and I watched Jez watching the city as we drove. After a few minutes, she turned with a faint half-smile.
“You know it’s probably weird to show up to driving lessons in the back of a limo, right?”
I raised an eyebrow, falling into the banter despite myself. “Is it, though? I mean, it’s not as though you could drive yourself there before you get a learner’s permit, at the very least.”
God, this would be easier in so many ways if I wasn’t coming to genuinely like this omega as a person.
We stopped by my office and I signed the things that needed to be signed, but didn’t linger afterward.
Then Bud drove us to the best-rated driving school in the area.
Inside, Jez looked around with interest as we were escorted to a registration desk occupied by a red-haired beta woman in her mid-thirties.
She smiled and batted her eyelashes, rising and gesturing toward a pair of chairs in front of the desk. I waited for Jez to sit before taking the other one.
“Good afternoon,” said the woman, casting a quick gaze over Jez before refocusing on me. “My name is Francine, and it’s my pleasure to assist you today. Are you wanting driving lessons for your... daughter?”
Jez, whose loose ponytail and baggy jeans did make her look young—but not that young—snorted.
“Not my daughter,” I said in a tone that hopefully discouraged additional questions. “But, yes, Jessica here is indeed seeking lessons.”
“Do you do motorcycle lessons, too?” Jez asked.
“We do,” Francine replied, before once more visibly dismissing Jez in favor of addressing me. She caressed a long, red curl between two manicured fingers, stretching it out and letting it bounce back. “Here. Let me show you our various... packages.”
She took a folder from a pile of identical folders, turned it around to face me, and opened it, leaning forward as she slid it toward me until I could hardly avoid the view of her cleavage within her low-necked blouse. Red lips smiled up at me.
The low growl from next to me reached my ears. An instant later, my brain tossed up the unwelcome and belated realization that the woman across the desk was attempting to flirt with me. I shifted back in my chair to put more distance between us, my eyes drawn instinctively to Jez.
By contrast, Jez had leaned forward, her hands clenched around the edge of the desk so hard her knuckles had turned white. If her fingernails hadn’t still been torn and ragged from the aftermath of the bomb attack, they would have been digging crescents into the oak laminate surface.
“I’m not his daughter,” she snarled. “I’m mated to his pack. So, back the fuck off, bitch.”
Francine shoved backward so abruptly that her chair squeaked across the floor. My breath lodged in my lungs, trapped there by the swell of animal lust that rolled over me like a tidal wave as my omega staked her claim with teeth and claws bared.
The three of us sat frozen in an awkward triangle for an agonizing few seconds. Then Jez sucked in a breath, the blood draining from her face as she, too, shoved her chair backward and shot out of it.
“I’m... I didn’t mean—” she stuttered, backing rapidly toward the door. “S-sorry!”
The last was a high-pitched squeak, then she turned and literally ran from the office. Blood was still rushing in my ears as I stood more slowly and looked down at the beta woman, her face trapped in an ‘oh’ of surprise and humiliation.
“My apologies,” I said, impressed with the even tone of my own voice. “But I’m afraid we’ll be seeking the services of a different provider. Thank you for your time.”
After which, I hurried out, following after Jez with long strides.