One Month Later
Wren
I’m sitting at the same table, in the same chair I was when I met Siobhan here a few weeks ago for her pack’s secret proposal.
It’s the same table, the same chair I occupy every Sunday, as I have for nearly three months now.
I glance at the door, wondering if I might be able to someday have what she has.
The love and devotion her and Sage have both found with their packs.
It seems unlikely, but that hasn’t stopped my foolish heart from hoping.
Especially not with my history. All evidence points to the fact that I’m not the type of omega a pack wants.
I’m sipping a lukewarm green tea and my eyes are fixed on my book. Nonfiction, it’s an exploratory guide for teachers about encouraging curiosity and empathy in the classroom. My eyes might be looking at the page, but my brain isn’t taking in a single word.
No, my mind is entirely focused on one thing.
My firefighter.
No. Not my firefighter. He isn’t my anything.
It doesn’t matter that he’s been showing up here every week, sitting in the chair right behind me, and reading in silence for exactly twenty minutes before standing up and striding out the door.
It doesn’t matter that if that table is occupied, he sits at it anyways.
His sly smiles and knowing looks don’t matter one bit.
My heart still skips a beat when the coffee shop door swings open, letting in a chilly breeze along with the delicious petrichor scent of my firefighter.
Shoot. I have got to stop thinking of him that way!
I lock my eyes on my book, but all of my attention is on him as he casually strolls up to the counter, orders his usual half-caff coffee, then saunters ever so casually to the chair behind mine and plops down.
He sucks in a long, slow breath through his nose, then lets out a contented sigh.
A hint of alpha purr escapes along with it, and tingles race up and down my spine.
I shift in my chair, press my knees together, clear my throat.
When was the last time I turned a page?
I figure it’s probably time, so I flip one, and a low chuckle reaches my ears.
“You read fast, little bird,” Seth murmurs.
Fiddle sticks. I must have flipped one recently. I pinch my lips together and calculate what an appropriate amount of time would be to turn the page again in order to not raise any suspicion. Ninety seconds? Two minutes?
“I know you’re not reading. I know you’re only pretending to, just like you do every week.
Are you ready to give up the pretense and let me sit with you?
” Seth says, keeping his voice low so only I can hear.
He radiates heat, the scent of fresh rain on spring grass surrounds me, and I wonder how close he’s sitting.
I ignore him and flip another page. Take a slow sip of my tea.
Fist my hands, then force them to relax.
He knows I’m not ready. I’ve told him we can’t get attached.
That I don’t know how long I’ll live here.
My heart pangs and my inner omega feels like she’s shrinking inside me, a dull ache deep beneath my sternum.
Seth sighs, movement from my periphery indicating he’s glancing at his watch. I peek at mine as well. Fourteen minutes down, six to go.
I straighten my spine, shifting in my seat as my core clenches with a rush of desire. Seth lets out a quiet groan and starts to twist in his seat, then stops. I don’t move my head, but my eyes strain to the side, watching as close as I can without giving away that I’m doing so.
He kicks his leg out straight, and I get a quick look at his worn brown work boots.
Then he huffs and bends his leg again, so it disappears from my sight.
I wonder if he’s feeling as restless as I am.
If the same fiery desire, the need so deep it feels primal is running through his veins as it does mine.
I turn another page, only for it to be blank. I blink in surprise, and my brain catches up to the fact that I’ve been absently flipping through the book so quickly that I’m at the end. No more pages left.
I flush and bite down on a sigh. Before I can figure out what to do next, Seth stands.
He pushes his chair in, accidentally brushing his arm along my shoulder as he does so.
I suck in a quiet, surprised breath, getting a lungful of his scent, but there’s no time to do anything about it.
He’s already striding away, out the back door of the coffee shop into the alley.
I draw in a slow breath through my nose, let it out through my mouth.
Then I stand and push in my own chair, forcing my steps to be deliberate and unhurried.
I drop my napkin and paper cup into the compost and recycle bins on my way out the door, and tuck the unread book into my satchel slung across my shoulder.
I step outside and shiver in the cold November air, hating how desolate everything looks already, and hasten my steps. Winters in Michigan are rough.
I take a quick left around the building, then another immediate left. As soon as I turn the corner to the back of the coffee shop, a massive body presses into me. One hand clamps on my waist and the other buries in my hair, cradling the back of my head while shoving me backwards.
“Seth,” I gasp into his hot mouth. He pushes me into the hard brick wall, caging me against it and filling my nose with his devastating scent.
His lips are frantic on mine. Hot and hard, pressing mine open so he can lick inside, devouring me.
My omega throws herself at him, and I don’t hold back.
I meet him stroke for stroke, pressing into his body, needing to be as close as possible.
I suck his lower lip into my mouth and swipe my tongue along it, relishing the answering groan from low in his chest.
This is what keeps me going. This is what I live for every week. His hands on my body, his scent in my nose, his skin against mine, his taste on my tongue.
“Little bird,” he groans and nudges my nose to the side, then nibbles along my jaw to my ear. “I want to ravage you.”
Slick floods my panties and he tightens his hold.
He grabs my thighs and pulls me up off my feet.
I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms tight around his neck, and he braces his hips against mine, pinning me to the wall.
Then his mouth is back on mine, his tongue sweeping that perfect taste into my mouth.
I suck on it, capturing his tongue between my lips and imagining what it would be like if it was his cock.
His hand slips into my unzipped jacket, then up under my cozy sweater until his warm fingers meet my bare skin.
I arch into him, wanting more, and he presses his palm against the soft curve of my belly.
I release his tongue only for him to tip my head to the side and then plunge deeper into my mouth.
My fingers twist in his hair as I hold on for dear life, needing to breathe but not wanting to break our kiss.
“Fuck, Wren,” he growls. “I don’t know how much longer,” he says between panting kisses, “I can hold my alpha back. Want you. Need you.”
My omega preens, opening herself up to him and giving my slick-wicking panties a run for their money. I grind my needy core against him, and he pushes his hips into mine, giving me the friction and hardness I need, even if it’s not entirely what I crave.
His forehead drops to mine, and we trade air, our chests heaving.
“I can’t,” I whisper, regret tearing through me.
“I know,” he replies, his low voice full of yearning. There’s sorrow there too, though I know he’s trying to hide it.
“Not yet,” I say even softer.
He sucks in a surprised breath and pulls away to stare into my eyes. I bite my lip and peer up at him. His eyes jump between mine, then drop to my mouth. He releases his hold on my hair and uses his thumb to pull my lip from between my teeth.
“I’d wait forever for you, little bird.”
Then he drops one last chaste kiss on my lips and carefully lowers me back to the ground. He steps away, straightens my coat and runs his fingers through my hair. I stand still, frozen under his gentle touch. He takes another step back, looking me over once before nodding.
“Perfect,” he murmurs. “See you next week, Wren.”
I stare after him as he saunters away. Hands tucked in his pockets and shoulders hunched up against the early winter chill.
I long to run after him, to leap back into his arms and beg him to take me home with him.
To cuddle me and pet me and tuck me back into those burly arms so I can breathe petrichor forever.
I sigh and slump against the wall, allowing myself a moment of quiet misery.
At the very least, we need to wait for spring before starting anything.
Spring will bring warmer weather, the world waking up again, and most importantly, answers.
The school board will know if they’ll have a permanent position for me, and I’ll know if I can stay.
If I can finally set down roots here, let myself open up to the possibility of true friendship, and maybe more.
Seth’s words ring through my ears. He said the same thing last time. That his alpha is riding him hard. That he can’t keep seeing me only once a week.
The truth is, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out either.
The end.