Chapter 5 Jazmine
FIVE
Jazmine
She was real.
A part of me had been convinced that Arya, no, Atlas, was nothing more than an elaborate fake profile created by the start-up to fool lonely omegas, but watching her in my scrapyard, inspecting layers upon layers of metal was… strange.
Not only was she real, but she was here for me. For my Heat.
The thought made my thighs clench.
Is this what Rosie meant when she said blessed by the algorithm gods?
I cleared my throat.
“There are different grades of metal,” I explained, nudging a pile beside us. “Most people think junk is just… junk. But that’s not how it works. There are different levels of junk.”
She glanced over at me and pushed her glasses up her nose. There was something about the way she watched me, as though she genuinely cared about what I was saying, even though it was literally about junk. Something stupidly warm flared in my chest.
“Grade A is the best,” I continued. “Those are usually pure metals like aluminum or copper. We get a lot of copper because we’re close to an airfield.”
She nodded.
“Airplane parts are usually in the pure metal category, so even though it’s not worth anything as a wing, it’s still worth its weight when its melted down.”
“It’s a pity to melt it down,” she muttered.
“True.” I shrugged. “The pile behind you is grade B.”
She turned to inspect the haphazard stack. “Those are mixed metals that are a little rusty, but not rusty enough to be worthless.”
Her attention drifted back to the wing, and I felt the loss of her gaze keenly.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Atlas said quietly, running her fingers over the metal. I watched the way they slid over the curves, greenish-blue veins creasing the back of her hand.
“Most people haven’t,” I quipped, wondering if I should warn her away from the rusted edges. “That’s why these things have ended up in my junkyard.”
“People see what’s on the outside, not the true value of things,” she said, rapping her knuckles against the wing. A hollow sound resounded from inside.
“Well…” I crossed my arms, watching her. “Everything’s gotta go somewhere, you know?”
“Of course.” She shrugged. “But just because people throw things away doesn’t mean the items aren’t worth anything any longer.”
My throat tightened. “What did you say?”
Atlas crouched low, her thigh muscles stretching around the unyielding leather precariously.
“You can’t tell me this doesn’t have its own kind of beauty.” She looked up finally, eyes bright with a genuine emotion that felt too sharp against the thin skin of my insecurities. “Just because someone decided they didn’t want it anymore doesn’t make it worthless.”
Ah shit.
I tried to wet my lips but found my tongue dry.
Surely she couldn’t know. She didn’t mean what she said in quite that context.
Her nostrils flared as she gazed over at me, brows furrowing as she tried to decipher the swift change in my scent. Damn Heat pheromones! They’d be the death of me. Couldn’t I experience one damn emotion without giving myself away like I was made of thin fucking parchment paper?
“I—” I started, then bit the inside of my cheek. Hard.
Alpha or not, she was a stranger. She didn’t get to see me cracked open. She didn’t get to touch the parts of me I’d spent years welding shut.
But god, the words rang in my chest like a struck bell.
Worth… Still worth something… Even after being thrown away.
I hated how my throat burned.
She stood, brushing dust from her knees, looking sheepish. “Sorry. That was probably weird. I just… appreciate things with history.”
She gestured to the mountains of scrap. “This place feels like it has soul.”
“Soul?” I repeated, trying to deflect the sentiment before it settled in my chest. “Who knew an Alpha like you would have a soft spot?”
She touched a hand to her curls, pushing them back with a shy smile.
“Well…” She cleared her throat. “Someone once cared about these things, right? Someone used them, loved them, relied on them. Being discarded doesn’t erase that.”
My chest tightened sharply, and it was all I could do not to step back and place some physical distance between us.
She was talking about metal, damn it! So why did it feel like she was talking about me?
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyes trailed down to my waist where I had knotted the ties of the robe around my fingers.
"Nothing.”
Okay, that squeak was definitely a lie.
“Would you like me to leave?” she asked, eyes wide behind her glasses. “Do I make you uncomfortable? I will leave if you’d like me to.”
“No!” I stepped forward, my sliders touching the edge of her boots. “It’s not you—it’s just…”
I shook my head. “What you said about things having worth really got to me.”
“In a good way?”
I nodded. “I didn’t know how much I needed to hear something like that.”
Her brows rose as she valiantly tried to put two and two together.
“I was talking about the plane.”
“Yes, well—”
The air grew thick.
“Is that something you’re struggling to believe?” she asked.
My breath stuttered.
I blinked, looking away before I could sink into those sweet, dark depths.
“It’s just old baggage.”
“That’s still baggage,” she said gently. “Heavy things don’t stop being heavy just because you pretend they’re not.”
Stop being kind!
My jaw clenched so tight it trembled.
She couldn’t possibly be sexy and cute and kind and shy and empathetic all at once…
I blinked hard, trying to keep my voice steady.
“My ex—my old Alpha—she liked new things, new experiences...” The words felt thin. “And when I stopped being new, she found someone who was.”
Atlas brushed the back of my hand gently before taking my fingers in hers.
“She said I’d lost my spark. Like I was…” My throat tightened. “Like I’d rusted.”
Atlas made a little sound like a breath had punched out of her.
“Rust is a funny thing,” she said quietly. “It only happens when something’s been through a lot.”
Her gaze held mine, steady and warm and unbearably sincere.
My eyes burned so hard I had to blink fast to keep the tears at bay.
She gestured toward the plane wing leaning against the scrap pile. “That piece of metal has seen more sky than either of us ever will. Someone tossed it out because they couldn’t use it anymore. But look at it.” She smiled softly. “It still catches the light.”
Oh no. No, no, no…
This encounter wasn’t meant to be like this. It was supposed to be a no-strings-attached physical encounter with an attractive Alpha. Feelings weren’t part of the equation, but I couldn’t deny the way my heart thumped with longing as Atlas’ pheromones surrounded us with that dark, heady scent.
The ingenuity of this Alpha was rare—perhaps even impossible to find. I hated how much I adored that about her. I’d only known her for an hour and I already wanted to jump her bones because she was perfect inside and out.
“Jaz?”
Her fingers trailed over the back of my hand, sending goosebumps up my arms.
She was just so… big. Up close, her aura felt like gravity settling around us, rearranging the air so that everything pulled me toward her. I tried to straighten my shoulders, but the weakness in my knees stopped me short.
“You’re shaking.”
It took me a minute to realize my fingers were unsteady against hers.
I fixed my gaze to the opening of her collar, knowing full well that meeting her eyes was too intimate. I couldn’t look at her without imagining what she’d sound like gasping my name.
“Would you like to come inside for a drink?” I asked instead.
Her voice was low and warm when she answered: “Yes, please.”