Chapter 15
Fifteen
RYLAN
“ F uckboy Extraordinaire?” she asks, her lips flicking up for a heartbeat, glancing over her shoulder.
I cock an eyebrow and purse my lips. She can’t honestly think he looks like anything other than an absolute asshole.
She giggles. “Yeah, all right. I can see it. I’ve just never stopped to really label him as a fuckboy. Though now that I think about it…”
She trails off as the barista calls us forward. I tuck my hands into my pockets, watching as she orders a cortado. Really? I expected her to be more of an iced coffee drinker. She starts digging through her purse, and I grunt, urging her aside before she can get any weird ideas in her head.
The barista smiles at me.
“Flat white, please.”
She nods, and I hand her cash to cover the tab and a small tip along with my name for the order.
“Pick a spot,” I instruct Violet.
She takes in the room, her eyes moving carefully over each zone. Without a word, she crosses to the far bank of windows and drops into one of the low-back lounge chairs wedged into the corner. I take her in rather than following right after her, leaning against the counter as I wait for our drinks to be ready. She’s in a set of ripped up jean shorts and a light blue shirt that complements her warm skin and dark hair. The light catches on that industrial piercing in her left ear, and as she turns back toward me, I can see a small gold hoop daith piercing in her right one, along with two more typical piercings mirrored in both.
“Rylan,” a different barista calls out, setting two nondescript white mugs on the countertop.
Grabbing both, I cross the room and settle into the chair beside Violet, placing both cups on the small table between us. She’s quick to take a large drink, not flinching at all at the heat of the coffee.
I adjust my legs, giving my half-hard dick a bit more room. That should not be so fucking arousing.
“So why does F.E. think he can use you to get a good word in with your dad? And why does he even care?” I ask again.
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Because dumb guys like that think that being friends with me will get them easier access to my father’s company. And there’s a long-held belief that if you can get into Fallon Capital, you’ve got it made. At least in the finance industry.”
I tense.
Wait.
Fallon Capital .
“Johnathan Fallon is your father?” I ask, suddenly cautious.
She scrunches her nose. It’s fucking adorable.
“The one and only,” she mutters.
This is going to be a fucking mess if we’re not careful. Johnathan Fallon is practically God on the West Coast, the CEO and owner of the largest financial conglomerate outside of the big tycoons out on Wall Street. The company funds the recording studio Mark owns, at least partially. Enough that he’s often the one called to run the sound on fundraising events hosted by the company in LA.
I clear my throat and take a sip of the coffee.
“Not as glamorous as the world thinks?”
She sighs and sets the mug down, relaxing into the seat. “It never is, really. People always see what they want.”
I take a longer pull of the drink, giving her time to decide if she wants to leave it at that.
After a moment, she continues.
“People see an Omega and think they’re pushovers. Or they envy the fact that most Omegas end up in packs where it looks like they’re doted on at every turn. And, sure, some packs are like that. But not all of them. Especially in the ultra-wealthy.”
There’s a long pause. I put the mug down and prop my chin on my hand. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she taps her fingers, her nails clinking against the ceramic of her mug.
“People see my last name and assume I can give them whatever they want,” she says. “Clout. Social media engagement. Some kind of in at my father’s company that doesn’t even exist. It’s fucking exhausting.”
She sighs. There’s no evidence of the girl that left Jasper in cold blood, of the girl that wrote that letter and let someone act as messenger instead of being brave enough to talk to him face-to-face. She seems… fragile, almost. And not in the way Omegas often are. She seems almost like she’s prepared for everything to fall apart, for everything to blow up in her face. Like everything happening around her is just a front that will be proven false at the first minor inconvenience. I recognize that look, the one that says you don’t trust the good that’s happening around you.
I lived it for almost a decade, after all. I’m well-acquainted with what that fear looks and feels like. And what causes it to exist in the first place.
“I’m sorry.”
I keep my voice gentle and soft, and she relaxes further into her chair.
“You don’t have to do that,” she mutters, her eyes dropping until they’re only half-open.
Shrugging, I take another sip of the coffee. “But you’re not upset that I did.”
The corner of her mouth tips up. “I guess I’m not. It’s… not very common for me.”
“Which part?” I ask.
Her look grows guarded. I think back over what I said and hold back a flinch. Shit, did she think I meant like… how often she hooks up with an Alpha? Because I definitely do not give a shit about her body count. I literally worked at the Haven for years to make ends meet.
“No insult meant,” I say when she doesn’t fill the silence between us. The café bustles with life around us, the speakers playing an indie piano track that sounds vaguely familiar. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the ones Mark plays when the silence in the studio is too loud for him to focus. “Just trying to figure out what you need.”
“What I need?” The question is skeptical.
“As an Omega. As a woman. As a partner.” I stand and adjust my chair, turning it so I can sit normally and still see her. The barista manning the counter frowns but doesn’t outright object to the move.
“Oh,” she whispers, tracing the rim of her mug, her eyebrows drawn low. “I thought…” She shakes her head. “All right.”
Curiosity and maybe something deeper has me wanting to pry her apart, make her tell me what she thought I meant when I asked what she needed. What other ways are there? I blow out a breath and take another drink of the coffee to keep from being a complete ass.
“Sorry that I’m really shit at this,” she says after another long minute of silence.
I glance up at her. She’s twisting her hair around her finger, her eyes on her own mug, her shoulders rolled in just a bit. None of the confident woman from the gala or all the photos littering her dorm room door. No, she looks like the unsure woman on the video chat yesterday.
“You’re doing fine,” I assure her, letting my voice go soft and calming again. Her eyelids flutter. “I suppose this is a good time to admit that I spent way too much time on your Instagram trying to figure out details about you because the little bit the Council gave was absolute shit.”
She laughs and scrunches her nose again. It’s definitely one of the cutest fucking things I’ve seen. It makes me want to kiss her. I spread my legs a bit wider and force myself to focus.
“I’ve spent the last day trying to figure out why you have one daith piercing but not both—so it’s probably not for migraines. And why you have a scar on your nose from where you probably let a piercing close.” I chug the last of the coffee and set the mug down beside my feet, keeping the table clear for her own use. “And don’t get me started on that damn dress that’s haunted my thoughts for the last two weeks.”
There’s a long stretch of silence, and she twirls the mug in her hands.
In for a penny, in for a pound. I continue, “I’ve also been trying to figure out why your first time using the Haven was in the fall despite you having lived here the last four years. Part of me wants to just straight up ask you if you had a boyfriend and broke it off, and that’s why you ended up needing to use the facility. Is that completely tactless? Absolutely. But, fuck, the thought has haunted me. And why you work as an Ra and also at the Rowdy Seahorse when your dad is literally richer than God.”
“You actually looked up where I work?” she asks softly.
It’s almost like she’s surprised by my interest in her. The implication that no one really has been interested in her outside of her name or designation twists my stomach.
“Well, yeah,” I say, keeping the frustration out of my voice. “I wanted to know what drew you there, if it’s somewhere you can still easily work if you want to now that we’ve been matched.”
Her eyes snap to mine. “You’re not going to make me quit?”
I frown and lean back in the chair to keep from reaching for her.
“Not if you really want to work there. I mean, the finances of the pack are stable, so you don’t really have to.” Not even factoring in Dominic. Jasper and I are more than capable of supporting her financially. “But, again, your dad is richer than God, so I doubt you’re working there for the money.”
She taps her fingers on the mug.
“You noticed my piercing scar?” Her voice is damn near shy now.
Hell yeah, I have. It’s fucking hot. “Every time you scrunch your nose, it makes it more obvious.”
“I don’t think anyone has noticed it before,” she admits after a moment. “I got it freshman year on a dare like a month after move-in. Faedra got her first orbital piercing done. She still has hers. She likes to put little charms dangling from it to match her mood.”
Her lips tip up, and her shoulders relax. Faedra must be Fae , her roommate.
“Mom called the moment the first picture hit social media. It was the first time she’d really yelled at me over something I’d posted.” She purses her lips and rolls her eyes. “Oh, she’d made comments before that. Rude little asides about this person’s dress or that person’s makeup not being just right. But it had never been directed toward me. I was a mess for the entire week and pulled the piercing the moment she hung up on me.”
I hold back the growl by the skin of my teeth.
“I guess I should have realized she’d be awful about something like that, but…” She shakes her head. “She’d helped me through the worst event of my life that spring, so I thought maybe the nastier side of her had softened a bit, especially since Scarlett was gearing up for her matching gala. I was fucking wrong .”
Worst event of her life?
“What happened?” I ask.
That guarded look is back in a heartbeat.
“My heart got broken, that’s all,” she whispers after a bit.
A breakup? Wait. The spring before she started school would have been her senior year. I count back the timeline Jasper gave me, a knot growing in my stomach and a lump forming in my throat. It had to be the same event. So why did she talk like he was the one that fucked her over? His heartbreaking story certainly wasn’t something that he created himself.
I swallow back the questions. Now is not the time to insert myself into that.
She shakes her head and blows out a breath.
“Anyway, I used the facility last fall because my heat didn’t fall during the school break. It’s really difficult to get the work excused without an Alpha verifying that it was actually your heat. Or the Haven.” She scrunches her nose again, and I lean forward. “And hiding out in my room while Faedra continued on like normal just… sounded awful.”
“You didn’t have any interest in using the Haven before then?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I didn’t even really want to match until after my heat in March.”
She purses her lips and takes a quick sip of her drink. An alarm goes off on her phone that she’s quick to silence.
“Everything all right?” I ask.
She nods. “I promised Faedra I’d be there when her call started tonight. I set a timer so I could make sure I’d be back in time.”
“You’re protective of her,” I murmur, grabbing her mug and helping her stand.
She nods as I put my chair back the way it had been. “Faedra’s amazing. Everyone needs someone in their corner that loves as fiercely and cares as deeply as she does. She’s… she’s my best friend.”
The admission falls out of her mouth, and then she glances at me, that same distrusting panic from before flitting across her face. I keep my touch on her light as I guide her out of the café and back onto the sidewalk.
“I’m excited to meet her properly,” I offer.
She’s quiet the rest of the walk, though she lets me intertwine our fingers again. Campus is just as busy as before. She hums and leads me a different way across, avoiding the large open pathway where F.E. ambushed her earlier. By the time we’re back in front of her door, I’m just about ready to ask her about the physical stuff. Not sex. I’m not an asshole. But kissing?
Fuck, I’ve wanted to kiss her for days.
I press her into the door and cup her face, watching her carefully. Her eyes dilate, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes flutter closed as I close the space, and it’s the little bit of encouragement I need. She tastes as sweet as I imagined, her lips soft against my own. The little whimper she makes in the back of her throat has me hard and aching in an instant, and I press into her, crowding her against the door. Her hands twist into my hair, pulling me down over her, her nails digging into my skin.
I’m a second from pulling her shirt over her head in this hallway when the doorknob twists. I pull her off the door a moment before it opens, revealing the redheaded woman from earlier. Her hair is out of the braids, soft waves falling around her instead.
Her cheeks blaze bright red as she freezes.
“Oh shit, Vi, I’m so sorry. I was just going to grab a smoothie before my call.”
I chuckle and pull away from Violet. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll chat with you later, Vi.”
Her cheeks darken as she nods. I kiss her one more time and then head down the hall, not even bothering to adjust my boner.