Chapter 4
Four
DRAKE
I feel restless during the entire ride to her apartment.
“Stop here, Grayson,” I command, my eyes fixed on the dilapidated structure ahead. “I’ll call you when I need you.”
The limo comes to a smooth halt, and I step out into the night air, inhaling deeply. I can still detect traces of cherry blossoms hanging in the chilly air.
So beautiful. So calming.
“Francine,” I whisper quietly into the night. Even her name feels right on my tongue. It feels like I’ve been waiting to say it my entire life. The brief encounter at the store wasn’t enough for me.
I’ve dated my fair share of omegas, but never has my alpha instinct roared to life like this. It’s as if my wolf recognizes her as mine, has always known her as mine, the moment I saw her in distress in the store, dropping all her groceries.
Looking up at the apartment building, I grimace.
The place is a shithole. Crumbling brick walls, broken security door, flickering exterior lights that look like they’re about to die.
How can an omega like her be living in a place like this?
Is anyone even taking care of her? This just proves to me that she’s unmated.
My fists clench as I feel a protective urge rise in me.
Using my real estate developer’s eye, I scan the building.
Six floors, four units per floor based on the window configuration.
Corner units are slightly larger. Her car is parked in the lot, that beat-up Honda with the dented fender.
I mentally calculate which unit would be hers based on where I see lights still on.
Third floor, east corner. Probably apartment 304 or 306, depending on their numbering system.
I’ve built enough apartment complexes to know exactly how these cookie-cutter buildings are laid out. It’s my business to understand spaces, to envision homes before they’re built.
The security door to the building is locked.
Fuck.
My opportunity comes when an elderly couple approaches the front door, the woman fumbling with a ring of keys while the man steadies her arm. I jog over, pasting on my most charming smile.
“Let me help you with that,” I offer, reaching for the door as they unlock it.
“Thank you, young man,” the beta woman says, her rheumy eyes squinting up at me. “Are you visiting someone?”
“Yes, my girlfriend,” I lie smoothly. “She’s expecting me.”
They shuffle inside, and I hold the door, slipping in behind them. The lobby smells of mildew and cheap cleaning products. The elevator looks questionable at best, so I head for the stairs, taking them two at a time.
The third-floor hallway is dimly lit, with empty beer bottles lining the baseboards.
I count doors until I reach 306, which should be the corner unit based on the building’s layout.
This has to be hers. I stand outside, hesitating for the first time and wondering why the fuck I’m stalking this omega.
She’s different, I tell myself. I’m not going to let my brothers’ words get into my head.
I test the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. To my surprise, it turns easily in my hand. Hmm… I need to have a serious talk with her.
Anyone could walk in and hurt Francine. The thought makes my blood simmer with protective anger and panic. I slip inside, closing the door silently behind me.
Her scent hits me immediately, stronger here in this small space. Her sweet cherry blossoms undercut with the salty tang of tears and grief. But there’s another scent too, fading but still present. It’s an older omega, female. Family. Mother, most likely. The scent is stale.
Understanding washes over me. She wasn’t just having a bad day. She’s grieving. But I’m not totally sure.
I move quietly through the small living room, taking in the details. Wolf figurines on every surface. Books stacked on a coffee table. A large, worn armchair.
A short hallway leads to what must be the bedroom. The door is ajar, and through it, I can see a small bed pushed against the wall.
My heart stops when I see her at last.
Francine is curled on her side, her red hair spilling across the pillow like silk.
I pause in the doorway, watching her for a good fifteen minutes as she breathes deeply in her sleep.
I could stay here all night in the shadows watching her beauty.
Suddenly, her eyebrows crease, and her breath hitches. Tears stream down her face.
She’s crying in her sleep.
My chest tightens painfully.
Without thinking, I move to the foot of her bed, watching her face in the dim light.
Tears slip from beneath her closed eyelids, tracking down her cheeks to dampen her pillow.
Her lips quiver with each shuddering breath.
She’s wearing flannel pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, looking vulnerable and so fucking beautiful it makes my heart ache.
This is crossing every line. I know it. But I can’t leave her like this, crying alone in a shitty apartment.
Slowly, carefully, I toe off my expensive sneakers and set them beside her bed. I ease myself onto the mattress behind her, moving with stealth. The bed creaks slightly beneath my weight, but she doesn’t stir.
I slowly slip my arm around her waist, pulling her gently back against my chest. Her body is small and warm against mine, fitting perfectly into the curve of my body, as if she were made to be there.
“Shh,” I whisper as she stiffens slightly in her sleep. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
I don’t know if she can hear me, but her body seems to recognize me. A purr rises in my chest, and she begins to relax, her breathing slowing.
I tuck my face into her hair, inhaling deeply. Cherry blossoms mixed with the clean scent of shampoo. It’s intoxicating.
Her tears slow and then stop altogether, her breathing deepening into the steady rhythm of peaceful sleep. The change in her calms something in me too, some restless part that’s been pacing since I first met her.
I know I should leave.
This is beyond inappropriate, breaking into an omega’s apartment, climbing into her bed. If she wakes up, she’ll be terrified. She could call the cops. My pack would be furious at the scandal. It would destroy our business indefinitely.
But I can’t make myself go. The feel of her against me is too right, too perfect. My wolf is settled for the first time in years, content to simply hold this omega, to guard her sleep and keep the grief at bay for a few hours.
I adjust my position slightly, my arm tightening around her waist. She makes a small sound in her sleep and nestles back against me, her body seeking comfort even unconsciously. The trust in that simple movement pierces something in my chest.
Exhaustion suddenly washes over me. I hadn’t realized how tired I was until this moment, with her warm and safe in my arms. My eyelids grow heavy, the steady sound of her breathing lulling me toward sleep.
Tomorrow, I’ll deal with the consequences of my rash action coming here. I’ll figure out why this omega has such a powerful hold on me after just one meeting.
But tonight, I’ll just hold her and keep the nightmares away.
As I drift off to sleep, my last conscious thought is that Kieran, Rowan, and Elias are going to give me so much shit about this if we get in trouble. But I don’t give a fuck. All that matters is the omega in my arms, and absorbing the feeling that she could be my fated mate.
A piercing shriek yanks me from deep sleep.
My body instinctively tenses before my brain fully wakes. Eyes snapping open, I see Francine standing at the edge of the bed. She looks clearly horrified to see me there, her red hair a wild halo around her head.
For a moment, I’m completely disoriented in this unfamiliar room and the beautiful, furious omega trembling with anger before me.
Then reality crashes down, and I realize how monumentally I’ve fucked up.
I fell asleep in her bed.
“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?” she screams, her voice pitched high with panic. Her chest heaves with quick breaths, and her scent spikes with fear and rage.
“Hold on, I can explain,” I say quickly, raising my hands to show that I meant zero harm to her.
“Explain? There’s really no explanation why you’re here. What are you doing in my fucking apartment?”
She backs away, grabbing a can of hairspray that she points at me like a weapon. Under different circumstances, I might find it endearing, but right now, the terror in her eyes makes my stomach twist with guilt.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” I say, keeping my voice calm and even despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. “You were upset yesterday. I was worried.”
“So you broke into my home and crawled into my bed?” She shouts, shaking with anger. Her hair is a wild tangle around her face, her green eyes blazing. Even in her fury, she’s stunning. “That’s stalking.”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, moving slowly to avoid startling her further.
“The door was unlocked,” I say, as if that somehow makes it better. “Anyone could have walked in. It’s not safe.”
“Oh, and I should thank you for proving that point by being the creep who walked in?” She backs up until she hits the wall, still pointing the hairspray at me. “How did you even find where I live? Did you follow me?”
Fuck, no answer will sound good in this moment. Nothing at all.
“Yes,” I admit finally. “I followed you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and you were so upset after I saw the tissue in your car. I feel…drawn to you.”
Her face turns pink. “You don’t even know me. We literally met for five minutes!”
How do I tell her that those five minutes were enough to turn my world upside down? That her scent has been driving me feral since the moment I caught it?
“I know it’s weird,” I say slowly. “I know how this looks. I’ve never done anything like this before. I just... I couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone when you were hurting so much.”
Something flickers in her eyes. A look of confusion, or a moment of softened anger. But it’s quickly replaced by hardened resolve.
“Get out,” she says in a low voice, eyes narrowed. “Get the fuck out of my apartment before I call the police.”
I nod, reaching for my sneakers beside the bed. I slide them on without bothering with the laces, buying time, trying to think of some way to salvage this disaster.
I don’t want her to hate me.
Her scent is all around me, cherry blossoms, sleep, warmth, and lingering grief. I breathe it in one last time, knowing I might never be this close to her again.
“I really am sorry,” I say as I stand, keeping the bed between us. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. When I saw you crying in your sleep, all I wanted was to comfort you.”
She flinches at my words, her free hand coming up to touch her cheek as if checking for tears. “You watched me while I slept? Oh my god, you’re so creepy.”
I take a step toward the doorway, keeping my movements slow and deliberate.
“You calmed down while I held you. It helped you. May I ask who passed away?”
The question hangs in the air as I watch her face pale, the freckles across her nose standing out in stark relief against her suddenly bloodless skin. Her hand holding the hairspray drops to her side.
“What did you say?” Her voice is barely audible.
“I could smell it in your apartment,” I explain, knowing I’m only digging myself deeper but unable to stop. “You’d been crying and wearing black yesterday. I just... I want to know who you lost.”
She stares at me, her expression a complex mixture of horror and disbelief. For a moment, I think she might answer me, might open up about whatever grief is eating her from the inside out. But then her face hardens, her lips pressing into a tight line.
“Get out,” she says in a panicky voice. “Now.”
She strides forward suddenly, forcing me to back up into the hallway.
I let her advance, not wanting to frighten her with resistance. We move this way through the small apartment, an awkward dance with her pushing forward and me retreating, until my back hits the front door.
“Francine…”
“Don’t say my name,” she snaps. “Don’t contact me. Don’t come near me again. You’re just some creep from the grocery store who helped me pick up my stuff, not my fucking boyfriend. You have no right to be in my life.”
She reaches around me to wrench open the door, her arm brushing against mine. The brief contact sends electricity racing across my skin.
“I really am sorry,” I say softly as I step out into the hallway. “For what it’s worth, I just wanted to help.”
She doesn’t respond, just slams the door in my face hard enough to rattle the frame. Through the thin wood, I hear the lock click, followed by what sounds like a security chain sliding into place. Then silence.
I stand there for a long moment, staring at her door, my heart pounding painfully in my chest.
What the hell was I thinking?
I’ve ruined any chance with her before it even began. She’ll never trust me now. She’ll never give me a chance to explain that we’re fated to be together.