28. KATIE
Chapter twenty-eight
KATIE
M ax pulls away, not even trying to hide his erection.
I lick my lips, mouth watering. I look back up at his face to see a smirk pasted here.
“Like what you see, Tough Girl.”
“I’m not… We’re not…” I am flushed and the heat of him has scrambled my brain. Fuck this gym bro can kiss.
And his hands stayed above the waist. Above clothes. Totally PG. Except for the kissing. That was PG-13 at least. My panties are ruined from a few stolen kisses.
“Let’s go upstairs and make Loren jealous,” Max teases, threading his fingers with mine. The tension that had ridden him so hard the whole drive back has ebbed, leaving the same flirty Alpha I’d met– was it just yesterday? He pulls me up, lifts up the seat, and grabs the pastries.
When we emerge up the stairs, the kitchen is filled with the scent of butter and garlic.
“Honey, I’m home,” Max says, setting the pastry boxes on the counter, and nodding at Loren, who is setting out plates.
“You’re late. What did you bring for dessert?” Loren asks, then before Max can answer, he turns to me a warm smile spreading across his features. “Katie, did you have a nice outing? Was Max on his best behavior?”
I open my mouth to answer but Max cuts in.
“She’s fine– we had a run-in with a newly presented Alpha, but that was fine. We should get some scent canceling soap and spray for her to use in public until she’s bonded though.”
He’s not bringing up that Genevieve woman, so I decide to leave it too. She must have done some serious damage if even talking about her is off limits.
“I enjoyed the arts district,” I say, so that Max doesn’t get the last word. I know why he talked over me, but I still don’t like it. Better he learn I can speak for myself now.
“Ah, that’s one of my favorite spots too. We’ll have to all go as a Pack sometime soon,” Loren says.
Callum descends the stairs, his uniform jacket off and his pressed white shirt rolled up to the elbows.
“Where are we going?” He asks, snaking behind Loren to kiss him gently on the cheek. He claps Max on the shoulder.
Interesting.
“The arts district– we brought home cake and croissants.”
For a moment Callum’s rough features soften as he gazes at the white boxes. Well now I know the way to his heart. Not that I need it. But maybe I can bribe him– or distract him– with baked goods.
Loren pulls a tray of roasted potatoes –these are blue, but smell exactly like potatoes back home – from the oven. He plates up a filet of some kind of white fish smothered in a mouth-watering garlic cream sauce.
“This was one of Gerard’s meals –he leaves them so all we have to do is heat them up. Better than take out.” Loren winks at me.
“We really need to see if we can get him to add a fourth night. Not to knock your cooking Lor, but he is just exceptional,” Max says.
Callum pours four glasses of white wine. Although white isn’t my favorite, I don’t protest. He’s been prickly around me, and I don’t want to antagonize him. He has connections to the police force in Halvassa. If there are records of Travelers going missing, I’ll need him to help me access them. Hell, he might be happy to help, since he’s not overly thrilled with me being here.
I have a game plan now. Find all the Travelers who have gone missing, and then retrace their steps. If you can slide into Amaata, then logic says you must be able to slide out of it.
Loren sets down the four steaming plates, piled with fish, potatoes, and what looks to be a cross between a green bean and a small cucumber. It all looks and smells delicious, and I have to agree that this chef Gerard is definitely on the ‘keep’ list.
I sit across from Max, with Loren and Callum facing each other. The table clearly pulls out to accommodate more people, but the men have kept it at its smallest configuration.
I pick up my fork to dig in, when Loren raises his glass. “We didn’t get to have a proper toast yesterday. It was a bit haphazard, to be honest. So let us remedy it now: a toast to our Omega, Katie Wilder. A woman who crossed worlds to be here with us.”
“Here, Here!” Max shouts, and thumps the table with one palm.
Callum’s dusty gaze stays transfixed on my face and he raises the glass but doesn't say a word. It's eerie, and I want to ignore him; but Callum is not a man easily ignored. My body heats then cools, like it’s not sure whether to be angry, terrified, or turned on.
Goddamn biology.
I pull my gaze away, instead taking a sip of my chilled, slightly citrusy wine and focus on the mouth-watering meal before me. After swallowing a bite of buttery fish and potato, I speak into the soft hum of cutlery.
“Max told me that you two met in the military.”
It would be good to know what kind of training they have, and if it could help me find out more about the Travelers.
Callum freezes, eyes narrowing. Loren swallows thickly, but nods before answering.
“Yes, we were in an Army unit together. A long time ago now.” His smile is friendly, and I can’t help but compare how radically different he and Callum are. Loren is so open, so calm and confident–strong without being abrasive. Callum is nothing but prickles.
“You were in the military as well,” Loren says. “Are there many women in the military in your homeland? What did you do?”
I nod. “Yes, I was an officer. I was in charge of mission logistics –making sure we had enough of everything for different deployments. I wasn’t infantry, if that’s what you’ve been thinking.”
Callum cocks his head, studying me and I do my damndest to ignore him. If he won’t talk to me, then I won’t look at him.
“So, you wouldn’t have seen much combat?” Max asks, before shoving a forkful of fish into his mouth.
“Ah.” I set my fork down and toy with my wine glass. I only went on two combat deployments. But the second had involved bringing humanitarian aid to a village hit by bombs, where we were trying to establish a forward base of operations. I close my eyes, the memory of the blast too close to the surface. My knee twinges a sharp reminder of just how close I’d come to losing all of myself that day.
I swallow. “I did go on two combat deployments.” I don’t elaborate, and they don't poke.
Good . I don’t need their pity. I have been just fine so far and I am going to be just fine after I’m gone.
“That’s because you’re one tough Omega,” Max says, then winks at me. “I’m going to get you into my gym before too long. I want to see what you can do.”
“I told you that I can take care of myself,” I retort. “Maddie is a kickboxer, but I had extensive training in hand to hand. They were pretty big fans of teaching the women Krav Maga –a kind of mixed martial arts style. I may have broken a nose or two.”
Max wiggles his eyebrows at me again. “I love it when you talk dirty to me, Tough Girl.”
“It seems like you’ve been trained to not need an Alpha,” Callum says.
The smile that Max had evoked vanishes, and I frown at the Alpha on my right.
“We don’t have Alphas,” I say. “There are no designations – everyone is just a Beta. So, yes. I did train to not need an Alpha, because there are no Alphas. I trained to take care of myself, because who the hell was going to do it if not me?”
“Surely your parents, or family…” Loren begins but I cut him off. “We don’t have packs like you, and my dad died when I was a kid. My mom spent five years fighting cancer before she died last year. I had to manage all of her finances, and look out for my sisters. So, no, I didn’t need an Alpha then. I don’t need an Alpha now. And if it bothers you that I don’t need you like some whimpering pet, then you can go fuck yourself.”
I almost growl at them. God the tension and stress of the afternoon seems to bubble under the surface. But Callum’s expression isn’t angry; it’s a tight calculating look that reminds me of my dad when he was deciding whether or not Layla and I would be punished for fighting inside the house.
“Katie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know about your parents.” Loren covers one of my hands in his. The radiating warmth of his touch and a drug-like relaxation envelops me. I close my eyes and force my heart to calm, finding the steady rhythm of Loren beside me. Max hops up and crosses behind me, quickly rubbing the tight muscles of my shoulders.
I really need to shake them off, I don’t need this kind of coddling.
But, Jesus, it feels so good.
I sigh, letting Max knead the knot of muscle under my right shoulder blade.
When I open my eyes again, Callum is gone.