Chapter 7 – Lacey
Chapter Seven
Lacey
My day is off from the time I wake up to find Callum missing. Granted, I shouldn’t be surprised. I vaguely remember him telling me he had to work, but it was still jarring.
I spend the day running errands and barely make it into the clinic five minutes before my shift. This leads to a very frantic version of myself as I change into my work clothes and toss my hair up into a bun.
I was planning on braiding it to hopefully help avoid needing to wash it in between each appointment, but I don’t have time to pull that off.
I grab my bottle of Coke and head off to get my shift started.
“You’ve got a brand-new client,” Tommy says as I make it into the hallway with the treatment rooms. “He’s well put together. Not out of it or anything. He must be in the very early stages of the decay. He asked not to be restrained, but I told him the call was yours to make.”
I sigh, exhaling heavily.
New clients are always stressful. Though, I’m more annoyed that Tommy tried to restrain Grim after he’s been here nearly ten times, and now he’s justifying why he doesn’t think this new guy is a threat.
Everything in me says it’s a bias based on Grim’s size and the way he looks, especially considering he mentioned how this client seems well put together.
“Okay, thanks,” I say, smiling tightly.
My anxiety has been through the roof all day, and I don’t know why.
I really should have taken five or ten minutes to meditate or even do some cleansing breaths, but I did myself no favors by getting here literally minutes before my first appointment.
Silvie always talks about the importance of centering ourselves before and after appointments.
She even showed me some energy work that I could do to clear any negative attachments.
At the time, I thought it was kind but unnecessary.
Now I’m completely rethinking my stance on all the things I thought I knew.
Tommy nods, and I stride off toward the door to the room I always use. Technically, they aren’t assigned, but we all have our favorite room that we tend to claim so often the others just pick their own favorite. At least so far, I’ve never come in and had someone else already using my room.
I stop just outside the door and crack my soda, taking a swig as I step inside. It’s second nature to slap the button to indicate the session has started, and I bring that hand up to screw the cap back on the bottle of Coke as I choke…
Holy shit.
“Wilder?” I sputter, trying not to die.
“Little sister, looking good as always.” My stepbrother’s dark blue eyes sparkle as his lips turn up at the edges.
“What are you doing here?” I squeak, closing the door behind me. “Oh, God. Is there an emergency with my mom? Are your dads okay? Why didn’t anyone call me?”
“Everyone is fine,” he says in his low, gravelly tone. He shrugs a strong shoulder. “Except me, apparently, but that’s why I’m here. I’ve heard you can fix me right up.”
“What?” My head tilts.
Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Even if he is, there’s no reason he should see me.
Wilder’s long fingers move through the buttons on his suit coat, and the sides pop open.
He reaches into the interior pocket and pulls out several sheets of tri-folded paper.
“I’m teetering on the edge of going feral.
My lab work wasn’t great, and according to my doctor, I need to soak up as many omega pheromones as possible. ”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, striding over and dropping my soda on the small end table.
“The good thing is, it’s treatable. Do you have any characteristics in mind that you’d like in an omega?
I know most of my coworkers, at least the ones who work the same shifts I do.
I can take you up front to sniff the scent cards so you can choose who you’d like to be paired with. ”
I’m a little—okay, a lot—confused why he didn’t do that to begin with, but maybe he was nervous and wanted a familiar face to walk him through the process?
It’s hard to imagine Wilder Pierce being nervous about anything. The man is confidence personified. He’s decisive and doesn’t mince words.
He also kinda hurt my feelings when I was seventeen, but he doesn’t realize that. It was one silly encounter at my mom’s party, but it stuck with me for months. He avoided me all week, even during the wedding, and disappeared immediately after the reception.
I thought he was as attracted to my scent as I was to his. I figured my age scared him off, but I was sure he would pop back around once I turned eighteen.
Only, he didn’t.
And I told myself maybe he wanted to give me a few months of being an adult before he made a move.
Except, that didn’t happen either.
I’ve seen him multiple times over the last three years, and he acts like our first encounter never happened. So I’ve done my best to ignore it too, but my system compares every alpha I meet to him—at least to his electric scent.
Over the years, I’ve met other scent matches like Grim and Callum. My nose is fond of them, and I genuinely like them as human beings. It helped me realize that there was no reason to feel like Wilder was the one who got away. It’s silly when I think about how long I spent pining after his scent.
There’s just something about the way he smells that drives me crazy on a cellular level. It’s like the ultimate level of compatibility or something.
Hell.
I don’t know.
Even I can admit it doesn’t make any sense.
Wilder is so handsome that it’s best not to stare directly at him, lest my brain might melt. Which is only made weirder by the fact he’s my stepbrother.
His dark blue eyes glimmer in the low light as he shoves the papers back into the pocket of his coat and pulls it off, tossing it over the arm of the couch. The white button-down he’s clad in stretches over his muscular shoulders as he moves.
Once he’s fully upright, he plants his hands on his hips.
Wilder’s short dark hair is a little longer on top but shaved close on the sides.
The dark stubble that lines his strong jaw might qualify as a short beard, but it doesn’t hide his mirth as he grins shamelessly.
“Lacey, darling. I thought it was clear. I don’t want help picking another omega.
The only omega I’m interested in sharing pheromones with is currently staring at me with her mouth hanging open. ”
“No way.” I shake my head almost violently. “That’s a bad idea.”
The man already demolished my heart once, and that little exchange only lasted thirty seconds. I can’t imagine how bad off it would leave my instincts if I were to spend an hour cuddled up to him, only to have to watch him walk out afterward like it was no big deal.
Okay, maybe it’s unfair to suggest that Wilder broke my heart.
He really didn’t do anything to lead my system on, but omegas get attached to alphas easily.
He’s also the most potent scent match I’ve ever smelled, and my instincts wanted me to instantly claim him for my pack.
Watching him walk away that night three years ago ate away at me for a long time, even if I can understand that we were incompatible because of my age.
“Why is it a bad idea?” he asks, approaching me slowly.
The way he prowls closer almost has me taking a step back, but I don’t like the idea of retreating from him.
“Because our parents got married? We’re not related.
Not at all.” He comes to a stop in front of me and raises a hand, bringing it to cradle my cheek. “You really won’t treat me?”
Oh, man.
He plays dirty.
My proverbial hackles rise at the thought of running into one of the other omegas in the hallway and having to smell Wilder’s scent mixed with theirs. Even the imagery sends a shiver of repulsion down my spine.
“Do I need to beg?” he asks. “Because I will. I’ve met many omegas over the years. Not one has appealed to my senses like you do, which leads me to believe the best chance of success will come from soaking up your pheromones.”
Ahh, that makes more sense.
My mom and I don’t talk about his family business much, but she’s alluded to the fact Wilder works with criminals. Not that he’s part of a mob family or anything. At least, I don’t think so. Though she has implied that he works closely with them after taking over for his fathers.
That means he can’t risk his mind.
I’m torn.
I really don’t like the idea of him using me just because we’re compatible, and at the same time, I hate the idea of him cuddling with any of my coworkers.
“Fine,” I agree, shaking my head. “But not a word of this to anyone, especially our parents.”
Wilder chuckles darkly. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He pulls his hand from my jaw, grabs the knot on his tie, and loosens it before moving to work the top button on his collared shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it easier to transfer pheromones skin-to-skin?”
I blink and blink some more. “Do you think I get naked with every alpha who comes in to soak up pheromones?”
“Honestly?” He shrugs. “I do my best not to think about anything you do with other men.”
Wow.
He is the king of confusing signals.
Still, this is my job.
It’s my responsibility to get a handle on things.
“Okay, let’s do this. Your appointment time is running.” I grab his hand and guide him around the coffee table, but I stop in my tracks when I can’t decide if I should head to the couch or the bed. “Couch or the treatment table?”
“You mean the bed?” Wilder asks, sounding amused.
When I was hired, my manager told me they wanted us to call it a treatment table when speaking to clients. It’s supposed to make what we do sound more official or something. I don’t know. It looks very bed-like to me too.
“Just pick one,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
“I can’t choose because I don’t know what my options are. What exactly will we be doing on either medium?”
I snort. “You should have been a politician. Whatever. I’ll pick for you. Sit on the treatment table. You can lean up against the pillows. Just make sure you give me enough room to kneel over you. Basically, don’t stick too close to the edge.”