36. Sterling #2
I’m frantically trying to slow my racing heart, to figure out what I’m supposed to say, how I should act. How the hell am I supposed to play it cool when all I can picture is how he felt when he scent-marked me—and those last words of his keep playing on repeat in my head?
Not yet.
I’m still just standing there, staring, when he drops his gaze—and looks right past me.
And keeps walking.
Straight to the back where the pool tables are, like I don’t exist. Like I’m not here with his sister. Like he didn’t have his tongue in my mouth and his cock grinding against me a week ago.
“Oh God,” I mutter under my breath, ducking my head and shifting my body to block my face from his view.
Daisy leans in. “See? Brick wall.”
“So…what do I do?”
“Well, you probably shouldn’t do what I would do…”
“Which is?” I ask, half-afraid, half-curious.
“I’d march my ass over there, grab him by the ear, and say, ‘Jeremiah Paulsen, are those the manners Momma taught you?’” She cackles, throwing her head back in a belly laugh that makes a few people nearby glance over.
“Uh…no,” I groan, sinking lower into my chair.
“Well then, it’s option B. Ignore the fuck out of him until he’s green with jealousy.”
“Better,” I say. “I’ll just pretend he’s not here. How hard can that be?”
The Alpha at our table picks up on the shift in energy immediately. He glances toward the back, then looks at me. “Everything okay?”
Daisy beams at him. “Oh, it’s about to get very interesting.” He just shrugs but pulls up a chair and joins us…uninvited.
I try to ignore him. Really. I turn back to the conversation, nod politely at something the stranger says, even manage a laugh that might’ve sounded halfway genuine. But my eyes keep drifting—like they’ve got a mind of their own—to the back of the bar.
To where JP is leaning over the pool table, lining up a shot, and I suddenly realize the fatal flaw in my plan.
JP is not someone you can ignore.
The universe didn’t build him that way. No, the universe crafted that man in a fit of spite and artistry, carved him out of smoke and sex and trouble, and then had the audacity to drop him in my path. He’s impossible to ignore. Designed to be stared at.
His long body. The tattoos. Those sharp, cut-through-your-soul eyes. The few days’ worth of stubble. All of it makes it damn near futile to pretend he doesn’t exist.
But I’m doing my damndest.
I figure I can give this twenty more minutes. If he doesn’t leave, I will. I’ve been high on post-heat happy feelings all week, and I’m not about to let JP—and his whiplash indecision—ruin my night.
Daisy and I have plans. Big ones. To let our hair down, to dance our asses off, and to enjoy the hell out of our girl’s night.
That was the plan.
At least until she appears.
A Beta. Blonde. Laughing. Draping herself over JP’s back, a gesture born of familiarity. As if she’s climbed that mountain before and plans to summit again.
I burn.
And as further proof that the universe is a deeply unfair place, it is now me who’s fucking green with jealousy.
Because when she presses up against him, JP doesn’t shove her off. When she leans in to whisper something in his ear, he doesn’t flinch or look uncomfortable.
And when she comes around and plops herself down right in his lap, he lets her stay there.
Daisy takes a sip of her drink, eyes narrowed at her brother, all good humor gone. “Well, shit. I always knew he was an idiot…I didn’t think he was a jackass.”
I don’t breathe.
Daisy doesn’t look at me. Just raises her glass again and mutters, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
And that’s it. That’s all it takes. I’m up and out of my chair, my body ablaze with retribution, before logic can set in, marching across the floor with a fury I’ve never felt before.
Because apparently my Omega is a territorial bitch. JP might not be mine yet. But I sure as hell won’t let anybody else have him.
My boots hit the floor like war drums, sharp and deliberate, each step a declaration. My skirt flares around my legs, catching air with every stride, and I don’t care who’s watching. Heads turn. Conversations pause. I give zero fucks.
Because he’s looking now.
JP glances up from where that Beta’s lips are brushing his ear, and when our eyes lock?—
fireworks.
His pupils blow wide. His scent spikes, sharp and dark, and I see the exact second he realizes what’s happening.
I feel it.
Because it crashes over me like a goddamn tidal wave. His scent wraps around me, slides into my lungs, lights me up.
It’s like I’m smelling him for the first time. Like something in me finally unlocked. And I know he’s my scent match.
It hits me low and deep, a throb that starts in my chest and spreads to every limb, every nerve ending. The cinnamon and vanilla under my skin sings at the recognition. My Omega goes still for one perfect second…
Then snaps. Because now that I know? I want him. Need him. I can taste him on the back of my tongue.
How the hell did I ever not know?
How did I ever smell him and not fall apart?
It’s unbearable—this craving. It makes my teeth clench and my muscles tighten, makes my breath go shallow. My whole body feels tuned to him, and the idea of him touching someone else…
Of her scent on his skin—It undoes me.
And I don’t stop walking until I’m standing right in front of them, staring down this moment like it’s mine to claim. Because it is. Because he is.
And I’m done pretending otherwise.
“Excuse me,” I say, sweet and deadly as sugar glass, stopping in front of their cozy little scene.
The Beta looks up, startled. She’s pretty, I’ll give her that. Curvy in all the right places, hair styled into soft waves that probably took a professional and a curling wand the size of my wrist. She blinks at me like she’s confused why I’m interrupting.
JP, on the other hand, goes completely still.
I fix my gaze on her. “Hi. I think you better leave.”
Her mouth opens. Closes. “Sorry, do I…know you?”
“Nope,” I say brightly, “but he does.”
I tip my chin at JP, who’s still frozen like a statue under her. He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t move. Just stares at me with something that might be guilt, or fury, or want—or maybe all three rolled together and wrapped in that unbearable, unreadable Alpha intensity of his.
“Sterling,” he says finally, his voice low.
But I won’t let him unravel me. Not this time.
“Don’t ‘Sterling’ me like you didn’t just let another woman crawl all over you, put her lips on you.” I cross my arms, stepping closer. My heart is pounding so hard I swear everyone can hear it.
“I didn’t?—”
“You did. I saw you. And if you were trying to get a reaction, congratulations. You got one.”
The blonde shifts uncomfortably on his thigh. “Look, I didn’t know there was someone else—me and JP we go way back, I?—”
I hold up a hand without taking my eyes off JP, cutting her off. “You’re not the problem. He is.”
She climbs out of his lap like it’s suddenly on fire, mumbles something about a drink, and scurries off into the crowd. JP exhales, but I don’t give him space to speak.
“Why?” I ask, my voice tight. “Why would you do that?”
He stands slowly, towering over me, eyes dark and unreadable, but I swear I see regret there. “Does it fucking matter?”
That feels like a slap. I flinch back. I can feel my face heat and wetness pool in the corners of my eyes.
“Yes! And you know it does.” My voice grows louder with each word.
“Look…” he starts, his voice low and rough, “me and Lou go way back. It doesn’t mean anything?—”
I hold up my hand, he doesn’t owe me anything. Not an explanation or promises. It’s not his fault my world tilts every time I breathe him in.
Not his fault that now I know—know—he’s my scent match too, I have no idea how the hell I’m supposed to ever let him go.
But I will. If he doesn’t want this? I’ll walk away. Even if it kills me.
“I’m not your enemy, JP,” I say through clenched teeth, anger burning through me, each word costing me more than I want to admit. “I’m just…trying to figure this out. Trying to understand what we are. If we are anything.”
I look at him, really look into those eyes that feel like a bruise I keep pressing, and ask in a steady voice, “What the hell was that even supposed to accomplish?”
He drags a hand through his hair, fingers digging into his scalp like it’s the only way to keep it together. His jaw clenches, throat working like he’s swallowing something down. “It was a?—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt, my voice cracking just slightly. “I actually don’t want to know.”
Silence blooms between us—ugly, raw, painful.
I glance around the bar and everything feels too loud, too bright, too fucking public.
I don’t want to be here, having this conversation. I wish I could unsee her hands on him.
My chest tightens and my pride claws its way to the surface.
“Y’know what…” I take a step back, voice brittle and shaking. “Never mind.”
We stare at each other a moment longer, locked in some unspoken war of too much emotion and not enough words. He looks like he wants to reach for me. I feel like I might slap him or kiss him.
Then a hand slips into mine. Daisy.
“C’mon, warpath. Let’s get some air before you burn the place down.”
I let her lead me away, but as I glance over my shoulder, JP is still standing there, watching me walk away.
The last thing I see is him throwing his pool stick onto the pool table and stalking toward the exit in the back, anger written in every line of his body.