Chapter 5
five
Summer blooms dance in the wind. Bundles of bougainvillea and wisteria bob on the breeze, sweetening the warm air. I focus on that, instead of the tire tracks that tore up part of our lawn last night.
As I glance around the soon-to-be-manicured manor grounds, relishing the warmth of my omega tucked against my side, it’s difficult for me to imagine a man who has more than I do.
Which, of course, means it’s hard to fathom a man having more to manage than I do.
My omega snuggles closer, sighing. “Atlas…”
Despite my best efforts, he senses my stress. Finn is taking longer than he should to get ready. This car needs its annual service, which I’m sure works differently in a foreign country. And, of course, actually getting our new house into shape will be quite an undertaking.
Not to mention my new job. Finding a fulfilling career path for my partner. Getting Ryker out more, and Finn out less…
It’s so much, because I have so much.
The duality is one I’ve learned to live with. It’s taken time—and some days, like today, remind me I still have room to grow.
Honestly, I never envisioned such a big life for myself. I grew up in a large, happy family; which was lovely, but loud. When it was time for me to choose a career, climbing corporate ladders and fighting boardroom battles were the last things I considered.
I thought I’d given up any chance at excessive wealth or notoriety when I decided to become a psychiatrist and, subsequently, a professor. I found I didn’t miss the prospect of prestige, not when the alternative was so much more satisfying.
It wasn’t rocket science or billions of dollars, but therapists helped people save themselves. For me, there was nothing quite as rewarding as watching someone fight for their quality of life because I convinced them they deserved it.
When I took my previous position at Columbia, I thought my fate had been decided. I would be boring. A member of the hushed-but-hoity Ivy League academia. Hell, I prided myself on my ability to maintain emotional distance and set personal boundaries.
Then I met Gideon Blackwood.
Before him, life-altering passion had always seemed like an unnecessary risk—and “forbidden love” was merely a concept my colleagues taught in their literature courses. It was a theme scrawled on a whiteboard. Used to underline other, more important subjects.
I never thought it would be part of my story.
I never imagined I’d risk everything to keep the one person who turned my world inside out.
I also didn’t expect to spend a decade pretending that same man—my omega—was actually our pack alpha.
Perhaps the universe has a wicked sense of irony.
Thinking this, I manage a half-smile as I gaze down into Gideon’s blue-gray eyes. He fusses with my lapels, distracting himself from the obvious chagrin pulling at his scowl.
Normally, I’d use pleasure to punish that guilt out of him. After spending the better part of last night attempting to clear his mind, though, I’ve accepted that these feelings aren’t going to budge.
He hates how much we’ve all sacrificed because of his family. Now, he’s consumed with the shame of needing our help to clear the debt he owes his cousin, Cillian.
It will all be over soon, I remind my Alpha, calming his anxious paces. After we repay this favor, we’re free and clear.
The truth is, no matter how challenging it’s been, I couldn’t be more grateful for the honor of being Gideon’s alpha. I love that I’m the man who solves his problems and holds his heart. Especially on days like today, when his past rears its ugly head.
I wish Gideon could hear how much I want to help him.
After nearly a decade, our lack of an internal tether feels less like an itch I wish I could scratch and more like a gaping hole that pulls at the edges of my sanity.
I stifle a frustrated growl, carefully smoothing my expression. Clearing any trace of discontent.
When I met Gideon, I vowed never to look at him with disapproval.
It only took one therapy appointment to realize—his entire life was an endless string of micro-rejections because he was considered a disappointment, even while he fought valiantly to pretend to be everything his family claimed they wanted.
The people who were supposed to love him judged him instead. Weighing his worth on a series of scales built for a different sort of being. Holding him to impossible standards. Gideon was so scared to be himself, he didn’t even tell me his true designation until our eighth session.
But I knew.
The moment our eyes met, an undeniable electric current snapped through my blood. The same one sizzles in my veins now, ten years later.
He’s my reason—my purpose.
Once I’m certain I’ve banished any hint of impatience, I meet my omega’s gaze. It’s beautiful, of course. A blend of ice and smoke, swirled into a cool-toned kaleidoscope. So different from my own.
The color isn’t their most striking feature, though. It’s his vulnerability. The soft need no one else gets to see.
And I do mean no one.
Because he is mine.
It doesn’t matter how many times I look into this man’s eyes. The result is always the same. Any tension swelling inside of me releases, replaced by the thick thrum of heat that inflates my knot and spills warmth into my middle.
Gideon shows me his worry and shame, letting both fill his perfectly aristocratic features. Softening the chiseled lines of his jaw, cheekbones, and brows.
I might not be the biggest fan of the remaining Blackwoods, but helping his cousin’s pack find the missing beta woman they’re searching for is important to Gideon. Without Cillian, he has no family.
Good riddance, in my opinion.
As his alpha.
But as a mental health professional? I understand it isn’t that simple. Given how entrenched his identity was for years, it will be remarkable if my prince ever manages to completely disconnect from the Blackwood name.
His etched, clean-shaven mouth twitches into a hopeless smirk. “You’re analyzing me again.”
Hmmm.
The paternal part of me wants to scold him for ignoring his emotions in favor of sarcasm. As a man, however… his sparkling wit makes me hard.
There’s no use arguing his conclusion. I was analyzing him, despite my best efforts not to. There’s no help for it, unfortunately. Especially when I’m concerned about him.
I breathe deeply, settling myself with the knowledge that we’re inches from the finish line. By tomorrow, our debt will be paid, and this fraught situation with his family will start to wind down.
Finally.
I wrap my arms around him, quirking an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean to analyze,” I hedge. “I simply thought you’d be more relaxed, given how we spent most of last night.”
His sculpted cheekbones darken with a blush. So goddamn handsome.
“Sorry, Daddy,” he returns mildly, aiming for haughtiness he doesn’t quite achieve, given the depth of his perfume. “I’m just a little nervous about pissing Cillian off.”
Of course he is. We all are. I won’t allow my omega to go into a potentially dangerous situation, though. If Cillian has an issue with Gideon allowing Finn and me to do this for him, the Blackwood pack alpha can speak with me about it.
I hum, masking my aggressive thoughts with a soft smile. “I suppose I should have guessed as much. Although if the circumstances were different, I wouldn’t have to guess at all.”
If we were bonded.
My handsome prince casts me an exasperated frown, reading my mind despite our distinct lack of an internal link. “Atlas,” he says flatly. “We’ve discussed this.”
Yes. We’ve been discussing it for nearly a decade.
He’s made himself mine in every way.
Except for a bond.
“I don’t see the issue,” I reply, keeping my tone diplomatic. “You’ve been waiting to live openly as an omega for a long time—and Lord knows the media is a lot more interested in Finn’s antics than the fact that I’ve subtly taken over as our pack leader.”
Finn might not be good for much else, but he’s handy for creating a distraction. I might have let him run amok a bit more than I ordinarily would, lately…
Which likely explains why there’s a bra dangling from the front porch lantern behind Gideon’s head.
Christ.
Gid exhales, a bratty whine underlining his voice. “Atlas, please. We have been over this.”
We have. A thousand times since Blackwood Corp imploded. I thought my omega’s request to delay bonding was about his job and our lies. It turns out, he’s had other objections all along.
Most notably, the fact that we aren’t mates.
I step closer, positioning one of my thighs between his. “And I’ve told you,” I husk, purring low. “I don’t have any interest in searching for a mate. You are my omega. The only one I will ever want. I’m going to bond with you.”
Gideon can scowl at me all he likes, but I sense the shift in his scent. The mouth-watering aroma of sugared pecans grows richer.
He tries to play it off, raising his own brow.
“And the others? I suppose it doesn’t matter that we’re supposed to be a pack?
Ryker is worse than ever; he can barely stand being around omegas—which includes me, now that I’m off my suppressants and scent neutralizers.
Plus, Finn would sooner drop dead than be bonded to anybody.
You know neither of them belong in my nest during a heat. ”
I repress a snarl. The thought of another alpha anywhere near my omega during his heat almost snaps my iron-clad self-control. And he knows it.
Clever, beautiful man.
The barest hint of a smirk flirts with his lips. Smug and sweet at the same time. My blood roars as I wrap my hand around his blank throat, stroking my thumb along the unmarked skin. His breath stutters, gray eyes sparkling.
“That’s why it’s so perfect, omega,” I husk, keeping my voice deceptively level. “We’re in a unique position. Ryker and Finn don’t desire bonds for their own personal reasons. Which means we can do whatever we want.”
And I can keep you all to myself.
My partner knows me too well. He finally loses the battle with his smile, his lips lifting into a knowing curve. “Plus, you get to hoard me, right, alpha?”
My cock kicks in my trousers. The scent of cream and coffee swells around us.
“Two things can be true,” I remind him, nipping at his earlobe. “Now, what did you call me?”
He tilts a tauntingly innocent look at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Clever, beautiful brat. I close my fingers over his pulse points, sealing my hand around the base of his throat. Purring louder as I bark a quiet demand.
“Who am I?”
Gideon’s eyes glow brighter when he tries to gasp. I keep my chokehold in place, gliding my other hand down to grab his ass and position the bulge behind his fly against my erection.
Repeating myself in the calm voice that makes him wild, “Say it.”
His gaze hazes as perfume spills off his skin. “I mean,” he starts, “right, Daddy?”
Satisfaction pours through me as I lower my mouth to his. Releasing my grip on his neck for a fistful of his hair. “Right.”