Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Emily
The cool London air kisses my exposed skin, and I have to admit it feels good.
But that might also be because I’m being kept warm by this thick sweater; the one Luke gave me my first night here.
I’d had every intention of returning it to him, but after my exhausting self-love session, it felt kind of weird to return knowing what I did with it.
Okay, maybe I didn’t do anything to it per se—except hold it close to my body and breathe it in like some Luke-scented plushie as I drifted off the sleep. Every night this week. No big deal.
Simon nudges my shoulder, pulling me from my wandering thoughts as he nods towards a rather large, ornate clock tower. Big Ben. He leans close to me as Sarah takes some selfies on the other side of me.
“And that over there is the clock tower from Back To The Future,” he says, his polished accent making his claim sound serious though I know he’s kidding.
“Lies.” I say, shaking my head. My fingers pull on the cuffs of the sweater, roving over the soft, warm threads. It really is quite cozy and warm.
“I would never tell a lie,” he says with a smirk and a laugh. I shake my head.
“You are a terrible liar, Simon Cunningham.”
“California.” I turn to see Luke, casually stretched out alongside the edge of the rail, overlooking the scene himself; his profile drawing attention to the perfect cut of his jaw, his dark hair blowing in the wind like some shampoo commercial.
“Huh?” Sarah perks up from her phone.
“Specifically the Universal Studios back lot, in Hollywood. That’s where the Back To The Future clock tower is.”
Charlie rolls his eyes. “Of course you would know that. Nerd.”
Luke turns to look at his brother beside him. “Pardon me for having an interest in cinema as opposed to fashion.”
Charlie shoves him. “Fashion is so much more interesting than grubby movie trivia.”
Sarah swoons beside me. “I think both are substantial interests. Don’t you agree, Emily?”
I shrug, catching Luke’s gaze.
“I am more of a movie buff than a fashion girly, myself,” I say as Charlie smirks.
“What is your favorite film?” he asks candidly.
“Pride and Prejudice.” I answer without a second thought. “The BBC version, of course.”
Simon, Sarah, and Charlie all chuckle.
“Should have known an omega would pick such a predictable romance,” Simon says.
“Predictable?” I gasp in shock. “Have you read the book?”
I fire my gaze at Simon who only smirks.
“Why would I need to read the book when the movie is dastardly enough?”
“I mean, I assumed a classic such as Austen’s would be required reading in your parts,” I nip.
Luke chuckles.
“What is so funny?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, his boyish smile making his eyes light up with mischief.
I shouldn’t take his bait. I really shouldn’t, but I can not resist Lucas Pembrooke and his audacity.
“Bullshit,” I say.
“It’s just… Simon is right, I’m afraid. There are better stories than Pride and Prejudice.”
“Such as?” I cross my arms.
“Wuthering Heights, for one,” he says smoothly.
“Bronte? Really? Guess that’s fitting. For you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, sitting up straighter, his verdant gaze finding mine once more. I have to refrain from staring as the wind blows his dark hair across his temple, some strands covering his eyes.
“I mean, Heathcliff is quite a miserable man…”
Tension fills the space between us as Luke purses his lips, his jaw set as I hold his gaze in challenge.
“What are your hobbies?” Simon asks genuinely, dispelling the momentary tension.
Luke growls, turning his head away and staring as we drive past the large clock.
“Back home? When I’m not working, I like to swim. Jupiter’s well known for its healing waters, and being as it’s basically my backyard, it’s the closest and cheapest thing to do.”
I regret my words the moment I say them.
I’d come here with nothing but my suitcase and duffel—ill-equipped for the weather, clearly.
I know we’re shopping today, and instantly I panic because the reality that I will have to buy a dress sinks in, and I get the feeling shopping with Smooth-As-Silk Simon, Socialite Sarah and Mr. Bittersweet is going to be a bit of an expense. Shit.
“Sometimes the simplest pleasures are the richest ones,” Luke says, catching my gaze. “Something Heathcliff and Catherine would understand. Elizabeth Bennet, not so much.” His lips turn up in the corner, giving a ghost of a smile. “She was a bit of a brat.”
The nerve of this man. How dare he insult my literary spirit sister!
I turn my head, looking towards the tower to avoid staring at his infuriatingly beautiful face.
“I guess so.”
The bus stops abruptly, pitching me forward and nearly knocking me out of my seat.
Steady hands grasp my arms, preventing me from falling; the familiar heat inside of me rising like a fire from the touch.
Though my arms are covered by soft fabric, I can still feel the heat of his palms against me and my omega pushes forth.
I look up at those familiar jade pools, feeling strangely hot and…
My insides clench and the sweat forms on my brow. The oncoming heat stroke is inevitable.
Shit!
“Are you alright?” Luke asks, his voice dark and gravelly. I push off of him and stand on my own two feet.
“Peachy, thanks.”
Sarah gives me a knowing look, grabbing my hand, leading me off the bus, through the crowd, not even bothering to wait for the boys.
Come with me,” she says more directly. “I desire some chips, and I think you could use a bite, too.”
She tugs me towards the street, and I suck in a breath, feeling hotter than hell and this sweater isn’t helping. When we are a good distance from the bus, she speaks.
“So, is this why you’ve been avoiding him?” she plainly states.
“Huh?”
“Lucas. You two have barely been in the same room since you got here, right?” She blinks, leading me to a cart on the side of the street. The smell of fried potatoes is thick but so is the overpowering scent of vinegar.
“What is this place?” I ask as she chuckles.
“Do not change the subject, Emily,” she says carefully.
“I am not, I just—”
She smirks at me. “It is a food cart. Do you not have them in America?”
“Of course we do. I know what it is, I just… can’t figure out what smells so good.”
Sarah flashes her brown eyes at me with that same knowing look her brother has.
And then I smell that familiar, sweet scent that makes my mouth water, overpowering the potato and oil.
Caramel and spice. I groan without thinking.
“You mean aside from Lucas Pembrooke.”
I grumble as we move up in the line.
“Just because he smells good does not mean—”
Sarah moves up to the attendant, ordering two waters and two baskets of chips. She glances at my sweater then at me.
“Charlie bought him that sweater last year for his birthday. I helped him pick it out,” she says matter-of-factly, handing me my water. I can feel Luke’s fiery gaze on me, my omega going haywire at the thought.
“Seems to be a bit lofty for you, but…”
She looks me up and down appraisingly. “It suits you.”
I stand to the side as Sarah gets our baskets of chips, not wanting to meet his gaze, but feeling powerless against the notion.
I lose the battle and look up, noting the way he’s staring at me.
Intently.
I feel hot again and take a long sip of my water.
“You’re perfuming, darling.”
I look at her, unable to process her words.
“I’m just… it’s the heat. You know how it goes, I—”
“Heat is more than just a nuisance, Emily,” she says, popping a fry into her mouth as the attendant makes the second basket.
“It is an indicator. A radar of sorts. Our heat knows when we’ve found a mate. A potential one, anyway.” She looks back at Luke, Simon, and Charlie, who look relaxed by the stone wall near the clock tower, waiting patiently.
Luke swallows harshly, his hands in his pockets.
His khaki chinos draw attention to his hips, or rather his groin, as they seem to be tight in all the right places. His long sleeves also draw attention to his large arms, and I can’t help but let out a faint whimper.
“Luke is not my mate,” I say, but even I hear the crack in my voice. “He is just a host, nothing more. My mother sent me here.”
Sarah chuckles.
“Meddling mothers are the worst,” she says. “Almost as bad as grumpy alphas.”
At her words, I realize Luke is walking towards us, Charlie and Simon on his tail.
His gaze holds mine as he casually strides over to us just as Sarah passes off the basket of chips to me.
“Where’s mine?” Simon asks as he motions to grab a fry from his sister’s basket. Sarah smacks him in the chest.
“Get your own!”
Charlie pulls out his wallet with a sigh as he gets in line.
“Patience is a virtue, Simon,” he says snarkily.
I don’t miss the way Simon’s eyebrows raise, or the way his shoulders loosen as he turns to look at Simon who is smirking at him.
I glance back at Luke, who is standing closer than he was a moment ago, but he isn’t looking at my fries. He’s staring straight at me like he can see through my soul.
“Excuse me,” he says, his voice cracking only slightly.
Sarah looks up from her fries as Simon and Charlie chat in line.
Luke takes two steps, and I can’t resist following him. He’s been quiet this whole trip, barely spoken three words to me aside from that movie trivia he dropped and his literary preferences. Which felt almost like an attack of sorts, even though I know it wasn’t.
I’m not sure if he’s being weird because of what happened earlier in the hallway, or if there’s something else going on.
But either way, I need to know.
“Hey!” I call out.
He stops as I catch up to him, just outside the shadowed arch that leads underneath the clock tower itself.
“Emily, what—”
“Are you okay?” I ask, catching my breath from running across the street with my basket of chips and a water sloshing over the side.
He glances at me, then at the shadowed underpass.