3. Avery #2
The alpha blanched, because yes, while he was at the top of our hierarchy, Lucas was six-five with bulging muscles and surly attitude and had always been an immovable wall between Bridget and the outside world. I couldn’t imagine Lucas wouldn’t intimidate any lupine but a cyne .
“Perfect,” I called over to Lucas and then glanced at the alpha. “Good luck.”
His eyes were like saucers as he stared at me. I was chuckling as I walked Linden toward the balcony off the enormous living room.
Leaning him on the balustrade, I flipped up his jacket, unclasped his waistcoat, yanked his dress shirt out of his pants, and went to work on the corset. Once it was loosened, I plastered myself to his back so I could reach around him and unhook the front.
“I never knew you wanted to put me up against a wall,” Linden whispered into my hair as I worked open the corset.
“Shut up.”
“I would let you,” he said hoarsely. “In fact, I have a small packet of lube in my breast pocket, and it’s all warmed up and ready to go. All you have to do is take me up to your bedroom, and you can fuck me right there.”
I snatched it from him so he wasn’t tempted to use it with anyone else until he got himself together.
“Come on, Avery, you know you want me. Everybody wants me.”
It was true; every man he’d ever met wanted him. “We both know you need an alpha to get off, Linny,” I reminded him. “If you’re not tied up and held down, you’re not gonna come.”
“Lies. Who told you that?”
“You did,” I disclosed, getting the last of the hooks undone and tossing the corset on the chaise closest to us.
“Oh my God,” he choked out, taking a big gulp of air as I turned him in my arms to face me and loosened his tie, then removed the studs in the shirt so it was no longer choking him to death.
“Is that better?”
“I thought I was going to pass out,” he answered, breathing in the mild early November air. “I don’t know what happened.”
I took his face in my hands. “The stupid corset happened, and yeah, it’s sexy under your clothes, but you didn’t have to wear it so tight that it cuts off the oxygen to your brain.”
He couldn’t meet my gaze.
“You know you’re beautiful; why’re you trying so fuckin’ hard?”
“I’m not getting any younger.”
“Then pick one of your many, many suitors and settle down,” I told him.
His gaze lifted to mine. “I’m a romantic at heart, you know this. I want to be swept off my feet. I want the fairy tale.”
“We both know what I’m gonna say.”
He groaned. “Make your own fairy tale.” The “How?” that followed was morose.
“We could start by talking to my dad about your contract, as I’ve suggested a million times,” I reminded him. “He buys it, you fulfill it by working for him, and you can live with me for free and––”
“Stop,” he groaned. “This far-too-familiar conversation always gives me cold sweats.”
I shrugged, and suddenly there was a man there, crowding me away from Linden.
“Pardon me, sweetheart, are you not well?”
“Aww.” Like the flip of a switch, Linden was in his element again, ready to be worshiped and fawned over by another random alpha. He glanced at me, squinting to let me know that I needed to make myself scarce. “What a knight in shining armor you are to come check on me.”
I stifled a groan, barely, and when I turned to go back inside, I was nearly trampled by two other men trying to come out onto the balcony to tend to him.
Checking on Bridget, seeing that she was drinking with three men now as Lucas looked on, watching, ever vigilant, obviously bored out of his mind, I decided I’d done my duty and could call it a night.
Walking around the edge of the room, making my way back toward the kitchen, I waved to my mother, who waved cheerfully back, and was nearing the door when a man stepped in front of me.
Since my reflexes were quick, even with four drinks in me, I didn’t walk into him, instead keeping my balance, and I looked up into the face of a handsome man I immediately realized was an alpha. I was going to bow, but he lifted his hand to stop me.
“I need a favor,” he announced.
“Sure,” I agreed, taking a step back.
“I need the name of the omega you took out to the balcony.”
He looked drugged, or drunk, but I knew he was neither. He was drowning in Linden’s pheromones, which always smelled like roasted pumpkin to me. Linden hated that description, but I’d assured him, on many occasions, that it was a warm, comforting scent.
“His name’s Linden, and he’d love to meet you.” Linny always liked lots of suitors vying for his attention. If one was good, ten was better in his book.
“Thank you,” he said, and made to clap me on the shoulder, but his hand was caught by Miss Holt’s boss, Graeme Davenport, earl of something-and-something. I couldn’t remember.
“Sir?” The stranger paused, confused, and dropped his hand.
“Leave. Go do whatever it is you’re going to do, but do not touch him.”
“Certainly,” the man agreed, shooting me a look like Graeme was nuts and then pivoting on his heel and wading back into the crowd to make his way toward the balcony.
Watching him go, I turned back to the cyne and started to bow; it was what I’d been taught to do, and since I wasn’t raised in a barn, it was the natural next step of our interaction.
In fact, I would have bowed to the alpha who’d just left us if he hadn’t stopped me.
I was surprised when the earl caught my bicep so I couldn’t bow to him.
“Sir?” What was going on? Most alphas got off on the bowing and scraping.
He cleared his throat, inhaling deeply. “No, please. I don’t like all that ridiculous posturing, and never mind calling me sir .”
“Oh, okay.” I liked the resonance of his voice. Neither Linden nor Bridget had reported that when he spoke, it was low and husky and whiskey-smooth. The rumble made my pulse quicken.
He took a step closer, his hand lifting and then falling, returning to rest at his side. “I didn’t get to meet you earlier.”
“No,” I agreed, retreating a step because something was off.
He smelled strange. Not bad. Amazing, in fact.
But different. I was breathing in leather and incense, pine and smokey musk, and the scent was thick, beckoning, drawing me closer, so instead of following my instincts and lunging at him, I withdrew another foot.
“When everyone was in line, I was talking to your charming assistant.”
“You found her charming?” he asked, taken off guard but still moving forward into my personal space. “Most find her abrasive or off-putting.”
That made no sense, and I squinted at him. “But she’s lovely.”
“She is lovely,” he agreed, looking me slowly up and down before returning his gaze to mine. “And most people miss that entirely.”
“I don’t see how.”
“You’re quite perceptive and—you’re Avery Rhine, aren’t you?”
“I am,” I answered, even though it didn’t sound as if he was uncertain he knew who I was, but asking so he could address me by my name.
He took another step closer, and when I took one more back, I bumped the wall.
“You know, I always thought the idea of the omega going by their mother’s maiden name to denote their status, or lack thereof, was something right out of the dark ages.
Why can’t an omega share the surname of the rest of their family? ”
I shrugged. “Well, that way you know who the omega is right off the bat, and there is the matter of lupine law to contend with.”
“True,” he agreed, staring at my face. “Though no alpha worth a damn can mistake an omega when they see one…or smell one.”
“I’ve been told that.” I found my footing, both literally and figuratively, as I stepped around him so he had to turn and face me.
I didn’t like having my back up against the wall, and now I had the freedom to leave when I wanted to, no longer trapped.
“Is it the same way an alpha can tell when they’ve met their fated beta or gamma? ”
“I believe so,” he replied gruffly, “but I don’t know, and never will.”
It hurt me, for some unfathomable reason, imagining this man without a mate.
There was a tightness in my chest and a chill lodged in my bones.
It was overwhelming, the grief I felt for him and how driven I was to offer comfort.
All of it, my reaction, was alien, and what in the world was prompting it?
“Don’t say that,” I found myself pleading. Why it was important for him to find a loving mate I had no idea, but it was. With my heart in my throat, I attempted to ease his sadness. “I’m sure you’ll find your mate.”
He smiled then, kindly, warmly, and I inhaled deeply, wobbling a bit, my knees suddenly weak enough that I needed to sit down.
His hand slipped around my bicep, bracing me, keeping me steady, turning me until my left shoulder bumped the wall.
We’d traded places, and I was once again where I didn’t want to be, caged between him and freedom.
Even though, without him there holding me, I was fairly certain I would have been on the floor.
“I’m convinced I will as well,” he agreed.
“What?” The thread of conversation was beyond me.
“I meant that I don’t know how things work with betas and gammas, and never will. Not now.”
It was hot in the room, nearly stifling, and I needed air but realized he’d herded me toward the laundry room near the kitchen.
“True mates are rare, don’t you agree?” he asked, letting go of my arm, reaching around me to open the door just as I stepped back into it. I would have lost my balance had it been open. He took hold of the knob, stepping in close at the same time.
I closed my eyes, struggling not to press my face to his chest and breathe him in.
He opened the door and moved forward in small increments, like the tick of a clock, an inexorable counting down—tick, step, tick, step—his movement deliberate, until we were both through and he closed the door with a click behind him.
It was quiet in the small room, and somehow cooler, the air moving, which made no sense, and for a moment all I smelled was fabric softener before the warm animal musk was back, along with the scent of fresh, crisp, snow-covered evergreens.
“Well?”
He’d asked me a question. “Yeah,” I managed to drag the word from my throat. “But you should never…give up on finding…your mate.”
“Avery.” He murmured my name, and I lifted my head so I could meet his eyes; up close, they were dark, like currants, but swirled with amber. “I promise you I will not.”
“That’s good,” I croaked out, my voice breaking as I dropped my gaze, thinking about the fact I had never in my entire life been jealous that I wasn’t born a beta or gamma.
Not until right that second. The man would make a loving and loyal mate, of that I was absolutely certain.
I could feel it thrumming under his skin, the promise of nurturing and shelter, of protection and his solid, grounding presence.
He could be trusted and leaned on, his strength something my wolf could taste in the air vibrating around us. “Can I ask something?”
“Anything,” he answered, his voice a rough, hoarse rumble.
I lifted my head. “Do you always smell like this?”
He grunted. “What do I smell like?”
“Smoke and musk and…fire.”
“ To you ,” he whispered. “I think that’s what I smell like to you.”
“That’s strange,” I husked, working hard to hold myself still and not lick the side of his throat before I bit him. I couldn’t remember ever wanting to bite someone; that wasn’t me. I didn’t do that, either in or out of bed.
“It’s not strange at all,” he argued, closing the distance between us to mere inches before he slowly, carefully lifted his hand and slipped it around the side of my neck. “Those are my pheromones calling for you, reaching for you, luring you closer so I’ll give you what you want.”
“What do I want?” I whispered, lost in the sound of his voice.
“My bite.”
I jolted against him, and his answering growl, low, deep in his chest, drew a quick whine from me I wasn’t proud of.
Because yes, I wanted to feel his skin between my teeth, the ache from not acting almost painful.
But more than that, so very much more, was the desire to have his fangs in me, deep, and to have my blood on his tongue.
“What the fuck,” I cried out, shivering, feeling my throat swell and my eyes burn. I lifted my gaze to his as he gently, with a featherlight touch, pressed his thumb under my chin. “Who are you?”
“You know who I am,” he replied, his voice sultry and smooth, curling around me, more temptation than I could possibly resist as he tipped my head up and bent down toward me. “Avery. You know.”
“You’re Graeme Davenport, and you’re a cyne , right?”
“I am, but that doesn’t matter. I’m something more important to you.”
“An earl and––”
“No. Something more important, and more vital.”
I shook my head.
“Yes,” he whispered thickly, and I could hear the words and feel their heat on my face at the same time. “Tell me. We both know.”
I did, and it was terrifying, as well as the freest I’d ever felt in my life. I felt like I could fly even as I was unsure. “My mate,” I declared breathlessly. “You’re my mate.”
“And you’re mine,” he affirmed. I heard the power behind his claim, the conviction and certainty and, most of all, the utter possessiveness. “Avery Rhine, you are all mine.”
I had things to say, questions to ask, but he took me into his arms and claimed my mouth, and my world exploded as my heart stopped and then started again, beating anew only for him.