Chapter 9 - Bridget #2
“I’m sorry. I took my frustration out on you, and that wasn’t helpful.”
Suddenly I felt like a joke in my dress and heels. I pictured all those Alphas watching me dance with Gabriel and sniggering behind their hands at the little Omega playing scientist. It didn’t matter what I accomplished. I’d always just be an Omega to them.
It was exhausting trying so hard and still being dismissed.
Lisbeth had only given me a chance because she was under pressure from the university.
It was “good for optics” to have the only Omega grad student working in the lab of the only female Alpha principal investigator. The whole thing was hopeless.
I was going to cry. I was going to cry in front of the last person I wanted to feel sorry for me, at a gala, in a cocktail dress that felt like a costume, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
A sob escaped, and I pressed my hands over my face to contain it.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “It’s the stupid champagne.”
Nathan’s scent was so strong it was like a physical force. He stepped closer and herded me gently into the balcony’s alcove with a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Bridget,” he said gravely. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
I heaved a breath. The tears were still coming thick and fast, dropping onto the blue and gold patterned carpet like bullets. “No, I’m glad you reminded me it’s hopeless to try to be anything other than the token Omega.”
The words hurt coming out. I had spent so long convincing myself that since I didn’t perfume like a normal Omega, I was immune from the assumptions that were made about my designation.
On the more benign end of the spectrum was the belief that we should be coddled like children, and shouldn’t have any thoughts deeper than attracting our pack.
On the more sinister end was that since we were good for nothing but fulfilling Alphas’ needs, we were little more than property.
I was so stupid for thinking the rules didn’t apply to me.
Nathan made a pained sound. “That’s not true.”
I looked up and wiped under my eyes. I’m sure my mascara was running. “It is, though. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying about this to you.”
“Please stop apologizing for your emotions.” Nathan’s voice was gentler than usual. He cleared his throat as a flush crept up his neck. “Can I… Would you like a hug?”
“A hug? From you?”
“No, from the curtains,” Nathan said dryly, then shook his head. “Forget I said anything.”
“No, it’s okay. I was just surprised. You don’t normally ask someone to give them a hug, you just… do it.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t want to grab you without your consent.”
The conversation was so absurd that I almost laughed. “Would that be professional, though? Hugging your coworker, even with consent?”
Nathan shrugged. He looked almost painfully uncomfortable. So I took pity on him and stepped forward to give him a perfunctory hug. The kind of hug you’d give any coworker having a rough day.
At least that was my intention.
But when my arms closed around Nathan’s waist, my body forgot all about being professional.
He just smelled so good. Even as my brain was screaming at me to stop, I pressed my face to that triangle of skin exposed by his shirt and inhaled deeply.
It was like an out-of-body experience; my conscious self looking on in horror while some other force controlled my body like a puppet.
Was it really me pressing myself against Nathan Manalo, brushing my nose along the warm skin of his throat? Surely not.
There was a split second where Nathan stood unmoving, long enough that I was sure he’d push me away and yell at me some more about being unprofessional.
But then his arms closed around my back, one up high, between my shoulder blades, and one across my lower back like an iron band.
He buried his face in my hair, inhaling just as deeply as I had, as if there were any scent for him to catch.
I turned my head, my cheek pressed against his chest. I could feel an unyielding plane of muscle, and his pounding heart beneath it.
I wasn’t crying anymore. My sadness had evaporated and been replaced by a kind of fevered longing. And as if things weren’t already bad enough, I whimpered.
Nathan’s answering growl resounded in the pit of my stomach, sending another pang of desire through me. He clutched me even closer, his grip almost punishing, until he suddenly cut off the sound rumbling in his throat and released me.
He used both hands on my shoulders to physically push me away, gently but inexorably.
We looked at each other. He was breathing heavily, and I could see a smear of my mascara against the white of his shirt, but his expression was just as tightly controlled as ever.
“I’m sor—”
“Do not apologize,” Nathan snapped. “Please.”
I swallowed the rest of my apology. The sound of the party below seemed louder in the silence.
“I think maybe we shouldn’t hug again,” I said, trying to sound unbothered.
“I think you’re right.” He was looking over my head. “Will you be alright getting home?”
“Yes.” I’d call a secure cab on one of the apps designed for Omegas to use. It was expensive, but I’d make it work.
“Good.” He nodded, still not meeting my eyes. “Then, good night.”
He walked away without looking back.
I stood in the darkened alcove to catch my breath. My heart was still racing, and the heat between my legs was more insistent than ever. At the thought of Nathan growling, the sound vibrating deeply through my body, I whimpered again.
Enough, I thought sternly. Thank god I didn’t have real perfume, or I’d be going off like a firework.