Chapter 21
TRAVIS
The only reason I haven’t murdered Rowan and Ryland is because I don’t want to upset Blair.
The packhouse smells like slick, Omega, and Alpha pheromones, and the couch may as well be covered in violets.
I’m so jealous I’m going to explode.
Blair went home before I arrived at the packhouse last night—Rowan claims they only played video games, but I’m not stupid and I have a fucking nose.
Ryland was smart enough to not say anything, but I’m still furious.
The blankets smelled like melted brown sugar—the telltale scent of her slick.
I slept with them last night, my cock hard as steel as I greedily inhaled the fabrics.
My inner Alpha needs to claim her, patience be damned.
My beast is barely on a leash anymore, and I struggle to reign him back in.
I know all of this is on Blair’s terms, but holy shit, do I crave her.
Her shift at Scents starts an hour after mine tonight, so I prep the garnishes, change the ice, and wipe down the counters thoroughly. I do an inventory check and refill what’s needed so the only thing Blair has to do is make drinks.
I like to make her job as easy as possible.
Then, I scroll through the photos on my phone and organize all the new cat pictures I plan to show her.
I’ll do anything to keep my inner Alpha from losing his damn mind and dragging her out of here like a caveman.
The hour feels like it drags on for days, until blessedly, a delicious scent wafts from behind the bar.
Blair enters, her cheeks rosy and her eyes glassy, and I’m almost knocked over by her aroma.
She’s ridiculously close to her Heat, if not already in it.
“Hello,” she chirps, and I stand frozen, taking in her outfit.
It’s a corset top, this time bright pink.
A tiny black skirt shows off her long, toned legs.
I’m going to lose my mind at the number of customers that will try to flirt with my scent match tonight.
I’m not going to last my fucking shift at this rate.
“What are you doing here?” I demand. “Shouldn’t you be at home?”
Her eyes widen for a moment, but then understanding dawns on her.
“We’re understaffed tonight,” she says, smirking. “I can’t go home.”
Maybe she’s worked this close to her Heat before, but now that I know she’s my scent match, this is torture.
She moves closer to me to inspect the containers of garnishes. “Oh, you already set up. Thanks, Trav.”
Rylee and Quincy are talking at the DJ booth in the corner, but I still keep my voice hushed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I hiss. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Her grin is evil. “Just showing up to work.”
“Adia or Macy would cover for you.”
“Why? What’s your problem?”
I narrow my eyes. “My problem is you’re playing with fire. First, you fuck my packmates when I’m not there, and then you show up like…like this.” I motion to her outfit and growl. “You’re a little tease.”
But the playful glint doesn’t leave her eyes. “I’m in my normal uniform, Trav. And we played video games, for your information.”
I don’t miss the hitch in her breath, though.
“You’re close to your Heat. You shouldn’t have come here,” I snarl. “Anyone can scent you.”
“I came because I knew you were here,” she whispers, and my cock turns hard as steel. “It’s hard to stay away from you," she admits. "It’s even worse when I’m like this. You weren’t there yesterday and—” her voice drops— “I wanted you inside me, too.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, half convinced I’m dreaming.
“Get the fuck home,” I snarl. “I’ll handle the bar for tonight.”
She raises her chin. “Nope. You act like I haven’t worked when I’m like this before.”
We’re five minutes from opening for the night, and now, Rylee and Quincy have turned to us, confused.
“If anyone tries to touch you, I’m ripping their hand off,” hiss. “And you’re paying for this later.”
Her grin tells me that’s exactly what she wanted.
She hip checks me. “Deal.”
“If it becomes too much, you leave.”
Her eyes soften. “I know,” she says. “I will. You know I can take care of myself though, right? I always have.”
“I trust you. It’s them I don’t trust. Every man that walks in here tonight will want to taste you.”
And I’m going to lose my job by killing them.
Blair is mine.
“And there’s only one person in this room that gets to taste me,” she says quietly, making my mouth water. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to recount this register. Someone didn’t close it properly last night.”
This teasing has to stop before I do something insane like put her over my knee in front of our coworkers.
“You’re a fucking brat,” I growl, staring daggers at her neck, hating that I can’t sink my teeth into her mating gland.
She shrugs. “Like I said. I have to count this register. If you don’t mind, Trav, you’re distracting me.”
I’m so hard from her attitude that I need to step away to adjust myself in the bathroom. I’m close to knotting through my fucking boxers at work.
My scent match is a cocktease.
She’s impossible and stubborn as hell.
She’s perfect.
With a snarl, I fish my phone out of my pocket and scroll to the photo album. “Here. Look at the damn cat pictures I took for you,” I snap, handing her the device. “I’ll be back.”
She bursts out laughing as I head to the bathroom, furious and turned on.
No one dies during our shift, but a few patrons get close.
Yet Blair, like always, knows how to handle things. She sidesteps a customer that looks like he might get handsy, and when another one stops to talk to her when she comes from behind the bar for her break, she keeps a bright smile on her face, but her eyes are slightly guarded.
I know that look all too well.
Her eyes, breathtaking with their swirls of hazel, are enough to make a grown Alpha fall to his knees.
A Beta man inquires about her rescue. When he opens his phone to show Blair pictures of his cats, I let out a snarl loud enough that both of them hear. The man quietly slinks away, his eyes fearful.
By the end of the night, her scent overpowers the bar.
It’s sweet, delicious, and I can barely concentrate on making drinks or cleaning up when all I want to do is drag her away from this place.
But when the lights turn on and it’s last call, Rylee goes up to the bar to chat with Blair like she doesn’t notice how much Blair is perfuming.
Rylee keeps side-eyeing me as I wipe the counters, though. “Keep clenching your jaw that hard and you’re going to crack a few teeth, Travis,” she chuckles.
“You can go home, Rylee,” Blair says gently. “Travis and I’ve got this.”
“Really? You want to prep lemons and wash mint leaves by yourself? I’ve got time tonight.”
“Go home, Rylee,” I say quietly, my voice low and deadly.
For once, Rylee listens. She has the decency to look uneasy, and she gives an awkward smile and waves goodbye to us before scurrying to the backroom.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Blair chastises, but her wicked grin gives her away.
She loves whatever game we’re playing together.
Except it feels like she’s winning, and I’m not.
And when my scent match is dangerously close to her Heat in front of me, she doesn’t get to have the upper hand.
Not after I’ve waited so long for her.
“I’ve been patient,” I say quietly, wiping the water stains off the last glass. I place it down and glare at her. “Really, really patient.”
Smoke and ash fill the air, mixing with her sweetness.
Our scents merge, and I know neither of us can wait much longer.
“About what?” she keeps her wide eyes on me as she slowly backs out of the bar and into the backroom, and I follow.
It’s just us back here, now.
The sound of the lock of the front entrance clicking into place tells me that Quincy’s left, too.
The entire building is empty except for Blair and me.
It’s our night to lock the back exit.
“About you,” I murmur, advancing on her.
“Travis—”
“You come here tonight, smelling like the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted, and expect me to just stand there while others paw over my Omega?”
Another step, and she’s backed against the wall, her breathing heavy. Excitement dances in her eyes, and her arousal mixes with the aroma of her fear.
“You come here, so fucking close to your Heat, when you should be in a nest,” I snarl.
There’s nowhere for her to go. Her lips parted, she looks quickly to the side and dashes into the freshly cleaned bathroom.
I follow her.
Catching up to her easily, I shut the door behind us and lock it.
My Alpha instincts have fully taken over, and I crowd her back against the sink, my chest heaving.
“You wave your scent in my face, knowing I can’t take care of you the way I want to,” I growl. “You know that, and you torture me, constantly. You’ve been doing it for more than a year now.”
She keeps her eyes on me, refusing to back down, her hands trembling.
“All I want to do is take care of you,” I breathe. “I ache for it. I burn for it. And it drives me crazy that you haven’t let me yet.”
A little huff of air escapes her, and instead of waiting for her protest, I lean in to silence her with a kiss.
She responds with an agonized moan against my lips and clutches my shoulders, pushing her body against me.
Sweetness explodes around us, making my head spin. I’m drunk on the sugary taste of her tongue in my mouth as I put my hands on her waist, pulling her flush against me.
She’s still clinging to me as I break the kiss, pressing my forehead against hers and panting.
“Your sweatshirt,” she whispers. “Give me your sweatshirt.”
I let go of her to shrug out of my black hoodie and help her put it on, the clothing swallowing her frame and hitting the top of her thighs. She hugs herself in it, and I realize she’s at the beginning signs of nesting.
“We need to get you out of here, now,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m not taking you on the bathroom floor our first time.”
Maybe one day. I plan to have her everywhere and on every surface.
But her first Heat with me will not be like this.