10. Graeme #3
“Yes, I remember that feeling.” I was finding it difficult, suddenly, to speak around the lump in my throat. “Of being scared. And Dad would always tell me there was nothing to be afraid of, and to go and run.”
He nodded. “I think whatever an omega is, either warm and confident and full of life, like Avery, or hesitant and fearful like our mother was, that sort of fills the house because, good or bad, when there’s an omega in the home, they set the tone.
I suspect that’s where a lot of those horrible stories come from where an alpha and their entire family is plunged into ruin.
” He wasn’t usually so thoughtful, and we never spoke about our mother.
We were both being introspective. “It’s probably not something an omega even does consciously, but is more their innate influence. It’s fascinating, really.”
It was.
Tomlinson delivered my scotch and water then, and brought a container I mistook for a pitcher at first, except it was covered and had a straw protruding from the top, to Avery. I had no idea that such an item even existed in my home.
“Mr. Davenport, your guests have arrived, sir.”
I would have met them where I greeted all my announced visitors, at the entrance to the great room after my staff escorted them in, but I handed my drink to my brother and quickly crossed the room to my mate.
When I reached him, I turned him gently to face me, and the wan smile was a concern.
Instantly there was a jolt of panic that he was unwell, followed by my understanding of the issue; it was so clear and precise that it took me a moment to realize he hadn’t spoken to me.
“You need to eat.” I made sure my tone left no room for argument from him.
“I will,” he soothed me, stepping close, into me, leaning. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not,” I pronounced, trying for gentle but ending up growling instead. “We’re going to the kitchen now.”
“I don’t want to ruin––”
“You won’t ruin anything,” I assured him, taking the huge water receptacle from him and passing it to Tomlinson before bending to lift him off his feet and start for the kitchen.
“I’m not helpless,” he imparted, bumping his head against mine.
“Yes, I know. You’re actually terribly capable, but at the moment you’ve used all your energy reserves in bed with me, you haven’t hydrated enough, and you’ve had nothing to eat.”
He made a noise, like murmured agreement, before his hand slipped around the side of my neck, his thumb sliding back and forth over the ruined left corner of my lips. “If we’re gonna live together, you have to promise me some things.”
If?
Was he mad?
As though all his clothes weren’t already under my roof, as well as his cat. “Tell me what you need promised,” I directed instead of explaining to him how he was never getting out of my home. Our home.
“I need to make changes to things without asking permission.”
As though he hadn’t already started. “Of course. It’s your home now; you do as you please, as you see fit.”
He nodded. “And you can’t take it back.”
“No, of course not,” I assured him, annoyed that he thought I would. “If you make a change, I would never––”
“Not that,” he whispered, changing position, turning into me, arms wrapped around my neck, squeezing tight.
I stopped walking, struck by what I thought he was saying to me. “Avery,” I husked, rubbing his back, “lift your head and look at me.”
Slowly, he eased back until he met my gaze.
“You are my other half; I insist you begin taking me for granted this instant.”
My words were ridiculous, because I wanted him to worship me, crave me…
love me. But what I wanted was not the important part.
What was crucial was that he heard what I said, and that he smiled.
The curl of his mouth was heart-stoppingly beautiful, and only then did I admit to myself that Avery Rhine, soon to be Avery Davenport, was my love.
I would do anything he asked of me and more, just to see his eyes glow like quicksilver when he looked at me.
He had me utterly enthralled, and I had no idea when I’d tripped down the rabbit hole.
“We will be together always; you have my solemn oath.”
“Okay, that’s it, you promised,” he murmured, pressing his lips to mine.
And I would spend the rest of my life proving to him that I meant every word.
He sat at the island in the kitchen and ate some wedges of cheese, broccoli florets dipped in hummus, some crusty bread fresh from the oven, and was utterly dazzled when Francisca produced a fire-roasted artichoke for him.
I stood there, glowering, arms crossed until I finally barked at her. “I know we have cold cuts and leftover roast beef that would give him the protein he––”
She gasped.
Avery turned and looked at me uncertainly, squinting.
“What?” I grumbled at him, because he had me worried that he was going to pass out and die from lack of sustenance. I wanted all his energy back. Him looking peaked had frightened me more than I thought it would.
“Begging your pardon, sir”—Francisca scowled at me—“but you are aware that omegas don’t eat meat, are you not?”
I looked at her, then him, then back at her. “I recall my mother sitting at the table and eating with my father,” I snapped.
“Of course she would have,” she assured me as though I had been sucked back in time and was a four-year-old again.
“I’ve no doubt they took their meals together, but an omega could no more choke down a piece of any animal than you could eat the tires off your car.
It’s simply not possible. They’re vegetarians. ”
I had no idea, and honestly, it was quite unobservant on my part. But in my defense, I didn’t speak to the omegas of friends and acquaintances, and had certainly never noticed what they consumed during a meal. I’d assumed we were all eating the same dishes, partaking in all the same courses.
Avery squinted at me. “Right now you’re rationalizing why you didn’t know that, aren’t you?”
How did he know?
“You don’t like to be surprised,” he alleged with a rakish grin, “or wrong.”
“I––”
“Even eggs,” Francisca informed me. “They don’t eat them. I made this egg-free bread special for him, and I ordered a second set of utensils and pots and pans today, and another cabinet to go inside the pantry so there will be no cross-contamination during the preparation.”
“I appreciate that,” Avery told her, smiling.
“And I appreciate your mother’s cook, Corvina, calling to give me some wonderful tips and insights.”
“Tofu tacos sound gross, but I swear they’re delicious,” he assured her.
“I look forward to making them for you. And of course, pizza is easily done.”
“I’m sure Corvie was a bit bossy on the phone; I apologize on her behalf.”
“No, she was quite lovely. As I said, I enjoyed our chat, as well as her explaining that you’re a bit of a handful.”
“She lies a lot,” he assured her.
I had never seen my cook, the woman I saw day in and day out, smile so fondly at another living person, other than her own children, who were both away at college.
She hadn’t known him an hour yet, and it was clear she already adored him.
That’s how it worked with omegas, though, that influence Stone and I were speaking of earlier, and Francisca was a beta, so she was susceptible to his charm.
But still, it was something uniquely him too.
I had no idea how every alpha who’d crossed his path before me had not demanded his contract immediately.
What was even more amazing were those he’d slept with who, afterward, had allowed him to walk out of their lives.
I was both overwhelmed with gratitude and homicidal at the same time.
I wanted to kill every alpha who’d been with him, taken him for granted, treated him cheaply, and cast him aside.
Though, for all I knew, Avery had been the one to walk away, since he’d tried to do that with me.
“There you are,” Mrs. Huntington, Avery’s mother, announced as she came into the room, rushing over to her son, who turned on his stool to open his arms.
She was there instantly, wrapping him up, hugging him tight, kissing his cheek before giving him one last squeeze and then stepping back.
“An early feast?” she teased him.
He groaned. “I missed a couple meals today.”
“Avery,” she gasped, glancing at Francisca, “how dare you not allow Francisca to take care of you. How thoughtless and rude.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” Francisca chimed in, eyes on me, “it was the earl who did not bring your son immediately to the kitchen to be fed, nor did he call for a meal before you arrived.”
Mrs. Huntington slowly turned to me until those eyes, eerily like her son’s but darker, scarier, were looking through me.
“I’m sure you know that omegas must eat on schedule, Mr. Davenport.
Like clockwork. As a police officer, his meals are, of course, sporadic sometimes, but the moment he walks into this house, sir, I’m certain that you’ll direct your staff to feed and water him as though he were the rarest of creatures, in need of constant care. ”
She was lecturing me while being quite careful not to appear to be doing so at the same time. It was impressively done.
I glanced at Francisca, then back at my mate’s mother, then at him. His smile, all teeth, guilty and sheepish, let me know that yes, he’d screwed up, and yes, he was going to let me be thrown right under the bus of his mother’s displeasure.
“I will endeavor to do better, madam,” I promised, giving her a slight bow.
She didn’t appear impressed.