Off The Menu
Tony
It’s not a problem to take her out somewhere expensive. Matty turns in the expense reports, but I do wonder what she’ll think of this…
We spend time drying under the sun. Her hair gets curlier and curlier under the soft warmth of the Caribbean sun. The pool is saltwater, so we don’t need to shower off any chemicals if we don’t want to. My skin feels soft, and the smell is pleasant, so a shower can come later.
I’ll need to make her smell like me again after that.
I don’t move from my spot under the umbrella until she says she’s ready. We stop in the room to change, and she puts on panties and a white wrap around dress. I get into my gray chinos, white shirt, and one of my silk button ups. We are pretty quiet.
She’s probably upset about the failed swim lesson. And what she asked me…
I couldn’t give it to her.
Not when I want it so much.
Not when I’ve been indulging that side of me already.
When we enter the hallway, I take her hand in mine. She tries to rip it away.
“What are you doing!”
“Holding your hand. If you think I’m going to let you in public without actual contact, then you think I’m stupid.”
“I’m not holding your hand.”
“Then I will hold your arm.” I grab her elbow.
“It’ll look like I’m being escorted to the police station.”
I just stare at her.
“Ugh, fine. Hold my freaking hand if you want to that bad. You cuddled me last night, too, so this will just round it out.”
“Cuddling is part of the care plan, Rosette.”
We did not cuddle.
We did share a bed. I had to make sure she stayed in it all night.
I held her wrists so I’d be alerted if she tried to get up before I was done sleeping.
And also because she thrashed around like a menace all night, and unless I was holding her, I couldn’t get any sleep.
When I woke up, we were in the same position, so there was definitely no cuddling.
I interlace our fingers and head off. It’s really fucking bright today, and the omega doesn’t have any sunglasses. She must have lost her last ones. I stop at a corner store and buy her a pair. They look like little moons on her face.
She acts like she tricked me into getting them for her, and prances next to me like a happy doe.
Walking together down the streets holding hands feels so much like we are a couple. On vacation. On our honeymoon. After a long day in the pool, heading to lunch.
If she weren’t the notorious omega thief who tried to kill me earlier, and I weren’t the PI hired to take her across the world by force…Maybe. Probably not. She enrolled at the Institute. I would have never done the same. I can’t offer an omega much.
Besides that ill-fated idea to align myself with the Boudreaux Pack, I cannot be packed up. Bloodhounds are monogamous, and that is not enough for an omega.
I only have one good thing going for me—I can fuck like no one’s business. I’ve helped omegas through their heats before, but there’s a limit to what I bring to a relationship. I don’t dance. For one. I travel a lot for work.
I can swim, but a lot of people can swim. Except Kelya, I guess.
I worry we will have to settle on this overpriced Italian restaurant nearby, but Kelya finds a Puerto Rican one. We walk in and are seated eagerly. Kelya smiles at the hostess, and they exchange compliments, already friends.
I hold out her chair for her, and she sits prettily.
She orders several things from each section of the menu. Escargo, paella croquettes, elote corn sorullitos, rabbit meatballs, adobo pork belly arroz, Chilean sea bass with foie gras, ribeye with bone marrow butter…
“Are you ordering for the table?”
“In my world, if some rich benefactor is paying, you make sure you seize the opportunity.”
As easy as water, I set my menu down and simply let her enjoy herself. She’s not wrong, I suppose.
The server suggests the fried plantains and cocktails. Kelya agrees and orders us two different cocktails and a mocktail. After the server collects our menus and leaves, Kelya shimmies in her seat, very proud.
I make a noise between a laugh and a sigh, and she glares at me.
Sorry, you are so cute, Sweet Rosette, when you are getting spoiled.
I still need that punch in the head, I guess.
The server comes back with our drinks. I let her try all three before settling on her favorites. A cherry mocktail and a prickly pear margarita. She hands me her least favorite, a smoky whiskey drink.
“Did you have fun at the pool earlier?” I ask.
“I did. It was a great idea that I had.”
“You are full of good ideas.”
“True. This is why you should listen to me when I tell you to just tell the Livingstons I died or you lost me, and then leave me alone.”
“They’ll just send someone else.”
“Maybe he’ll be able to dance.”
I slouch back in my chair and put my feet out wide, making sure to cage her in slightly.
“You had so much fun dancing with me that you kissed me.”
“I remember punching you a little more than that kiss.”
She winks then takes a sip of her mocktail with sorbet and cherry juice.
“It was a good punch. Who taught you to punch like that?”
“All instinct.”
“Should have guessed.”
Our food starts arriving. I dig in, afraid this may be the last time I get hot food on a real plate for a while. She does the same thing, and for a moment, we are on the same wavelength.
She picks up her other drink and closes her eyes as she takes a sip. The way it settles her…
“Let me try that drink, the prickly pear one.”
“No.”
“No? Rosette, let me have a taste.”
“Absolutely not. These drinks are mine. That one is yours.” She points to the whiskey cocktail and makes a yucky face.
“It smells good. I want a taste.”
She levels me a look and takes a large sip, nearly draining it.
I pop up, swiping at the glass, but she manages to move it away, so I grab hold of the back of her neck and bend her down. My tongue drags across her lips.
It’s so damned sweet. Melon. Sunshine.
“Mmm,” I say as I lick her lips again, and then mine, letting her go.
Her cheeks are pink, and she doesn’t meet my eyes.
“You’re such an ass,” she grumbles, then sets the cocktail down. Seeing how discomforted she is, I realize maybe I took that too far.
“Are you ok? I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m fine. Order me dessert and I’ll forgive you.”
I wave over the server and order dessert and coffees.
I’ve eaten all I can, so I take my cigarettes out of my back pocket, pull one out, then lean over the table.
It takes her only a moment to realize she has my lighter.
She’d stolen it again before she left the room.
She flings it out of her purse and lights my smoke.
“Thank you.”
“You knew I took it.” She seems impressed.
“You know, a lot of the alphas I interviewed knew what you took from them.”
She squirms in her seat, and I take a long drag.
“They probably would have welcomed the behavior if they got to see you more. They think if an omega takes something from them, it’s because they’re special. You like them. You like their scent.”
“The problem is that none of the things I took from them made me want my old nest less.”
I raise my eyebrows and take another drag, blowing the smoke off to the side. So, as I suspected, she’s been trying to find her own cure.
“You’ve tried to nest?”
“So many times. I've rented nests from clinics and hotels, but I couldn’t even get myself to go inside. Then I started stealing things, and it did help a little. A tiny moment of relief, but it doesn’t ever last.”
The server brings her a chocolate mousse and a cafecito, tells me there’s no smoking inside, then leaves us. I stump out my cigarette on a plate.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you about this. The nesting thing. I’ve not told anyone. It’s embarrassing. The Livingston nest was so special to me, and yet it was in the same house as people who treated me like shit. How fucked up is that? What does that say about me?”
I let the question lie. She’s not seriously asking me to tell her what I think. Personally, I think being alive is a fucking nightmare most of the time. The world is unfair and cruel.
“I hate being a victim. It doesn’t even feel real. So, what, they said some shitty things to me? They made me feel bad? They hurt me, and now I have to be a victim. It’s so stupid.”
A tear falls from her eye so quickly it shocks her. And me.
She shakes her head and sets the half eaten dessert down. I pick it up and eat a bite.
“It’s not stupid.”
“Shut up,” she says with no heat.
“Emmanuelle used me, and I felt so stupid. It took me a while to accept that. But it’s true.”
“Where is she?” she asks with a scowl.
“Barberie. With Henri Boudreaux and the other alphas. The ones she wanted, and not me. When I fully realized how fucked I was, I couldn’t face anyone.
I couldn’t face the other alphas, my dad…
especially Matty, who suspected I was being manipulated the whole time.
Anyway, I’m trying to say I understand that feeling. Being a fool.”
“Fool. That’s a good word for it. I’m a fool.”
“I’m a fool,” I repeat.
She takes back the little ramekin and scoops out the last of the mousse.
There’s no one else in this dining room, but I can still tell who’s close by.
Being a bloodhound is more than just knowing someone’s unique scent profile; I can smell their desires and fears.
I can smell how they feel about the people around them.
Like how two of the servers are definitely in a fight.
Their scents are harsh and get worse when they pass each other.
From this omega, it’s blank. It’s beyond fucking annoying.
I suspect by this time tomorrow her scent should be returning…
“My family raised me to be a good omega,” she says after the longest time.
I give her all my attention. Fool to fool.
“I was well trained to be domestic, and sometimes I can’t tell if I only did it because they made it important, or if I liked it.
I loved grocery shopping with my sister.
Getting to do it with the Livingstons started out exciting and fun. I don’t know, it wasn’t all bad.”
She goes to drink the last of her cocktail, but it’s drained.
“My parents didn’t let me nest. They said that it was for omegas that had perfumed.
They had all these made up stories about omegas who waited and how special it made their alphas feel.
For whatever reason, that would make me a blessed and lucky omega.
Nothing would ever go wrong for me. It doesn’t make sense now.
But I wanted to be a good omega, so I waited until I perfumed to give into that nature.
” She stares forward. “It seemed very important to pick a pack of alphas—not because I wanted them, but because I was desperate to nest. There. I said it. I picked them because they told me they had a big house. I’d get my own room, and they showed me pictures of a nest. Fuck. ”
I set my hand on her thigh under the table.
“You bonded with your nest,” I state simply.
“Omegas don’t bond with their nest. But it really was great…Do you want to hear about it?”
“Yes. Please.”
“It was otherworldly. It felt like stepping into a pocket between life and death. It was cool in there, and since I run hot, it was one of the few places I felt I could rest.”
I’ve never seen her like this. Her voice is pitched low. Her skin glows, and her smile takes up her whole face. It really was her special place.
“Anyway, it was nice, and it was all mine, and I could be all omega in that nest.”
I wonder what that means, but when her cheeks redden, I realize she means she could masturbate to her heart’s content in the nest.
“I know it’s not the same thing, but I love my house.” I tap her knee under the table.
She is still lost in the memory of her nest, but she’s listening.
“It’s got a wrap-around porch, a workshop, a big driveway. I renovated the kitchen and two of the walls are these crystal-clear windows looking over the bayou. Five bedrooms, six bathrooms. There’s a nest on the top level.”
“On a cop’s salary?”
“I was in cyber crimes. I wasn’t a cop. It paid really well.”
“Really?”
“That’s what my degree is in. I love tech and data.”
She laughs like I told a joke.
“What?”
“That just explains so much about you.”
I groan, and she giggles at me. Then things shift.
“You have a sheen of sweat on your hairline,” I point out. “Your neck is red. Your eyes are drooping.”
“The nesties.”
I wonder, selfishly, if they came back because my scent washed off of her.
“Ah yes, your adorable name for an insanely serious condition. Come on, nesty-omega, let’s get you back.”
I pay the check, which is astronomical, then lead the omega back through the streets to the hotel and up to the room. She leans all her weight on me. I can see why people want to be partnered up. It’s actually pretty nice to spend your day with someone. Even if they are a handful.
Even if the day started staring at the wrong end of a barrel.
When I shut and lock the door to my room, I don’t turn on the lights. There’s a lone lamp and a curtain halfway open. Kelya stumbles towards a chair and morphs into it in a weird position.
“Kelya,” I call as I undo my belt and slide it out of the loops. I set it on the table, then sit in the chair she’d tied me up in a few days ago. “Come over here and suck my dick.”
“Fuck off.”
“Kelya, now. I’m not fucking around. The care plan says that you need to eat alpha cum. Get over here and open your mouth.”
I’m not normally this big of a dick, but her ashen face has me worried. Plus she told me she needs to be compelled. And maybe I’m not done punishing her from earlier.
“What?” She unfurls herself and tries to stand, but her legs are too wobbly.
“You know how to do it, right?”
She scoffs, and her eyes go to my crotch.
In a strange turn of events, she looks kind of interested.
I thought she’d tell me to fuck off again.
I unzip my pants and pull them down a little.
I’m already way too hard, but I don’t pull it out yet.
Her eyes haven’t moved though, and her chest is rising and falling heavily. Oh my god, she wants this.
I reach in and pull my dick out. The longer I look at her expression, hungry and curious, the harder I get.
“I didn’t get to see it before…” she whispers.
I give myself a stroke and then expose myself to her entirely. Watching her watch me is one of the most erotic experiences. Time slows. I fail to even count the breaths. She inches closer and closer until she’s between my knees.
“Do you really want me to suck your cock?”
“It was my idea, Rosette.”
She kneels down in front of me. Back straight. Hands in her lap. Chest out. Holy mother of god.
“Then make me.”