Chapter 9
Lark
Pleasant, my omega offers.
He’s handsome, in a linebacker way. Broad shoulders. Strong jaw. Muscular covered in a little extra fluff that makes him look approachable rather than intimidating.
He’s probably a good cuddler.
Not part of the job description.
She ignores me.
“So your schedule is flexible,” Alice asks from her chair beside me. She and I have become friends of a sort since I started this process. I appreciate her attentiveness during these interviews. I’d be a mess without her.
“Yeah.” He leans back slightly in his chair. “I work remote and can usually move my schedule around. “
“So, if one of the alphas can’t be here, we could count on you to help out?”
“Sure. I mean, sometimes I have meetings I can’t get out of. But normally, I can be here in the day if the others need the night shift.”
He answers all of Alice’s questions without hesitation. Availability. Preference. Boundaries. He seems steady and reliable.
My omega stretches lazily. He’s fine.
That’s it. The total review. No racing pulse. No pull low in my belly. Fine. Which, honestly, yeah. That’s all I want.
“It was nice to meet you, Lark.” He takes my hand in a hearty shake.
“You, too.”
His scent lingers after the door clicks shut behind him.
Alice waits until he walks further down the hall before she speaks. “So,” she says, “do you like him?”
“He seems dependable.”
She punches something into her tablet. “His schedule is the most flexible of your finalists.”
I nod. “That’s important. I should have paid more attention to availability when I selected.”
She waves away my concern. “It’s always a problem.”
Five alphas minimum. That’s the goal. Five alphas with jobs, obligations, lives outside of service heats, and the flexibility to drop everything when my body decides it's time.
After two weeks of texting I've whittled thirty down to nine. Which sounds like progress until you remember I need five. I can't afford to be too picky. My body certainly won't be.
“So yes or no?” Alice asks.
I hesitate. “Yes.”
“Got it.” She taps on her tablet before looking at me. “CoffeeGuy789 is next.”
I swallow. This is the alpha that’s given me the most anxiety to meet. He seems good. Too good. It makes me tense.
We like him, my omega purrs.
We don’t know him, I think, but there’s no point correcting her when she’s like this.
“Great,” I tell Alice.
Alice smooths the front of her blazer as she stands. “I’ll go to the lobby and see if he’s here. Do you want a water or anything?”
I wave her off and she heads out the door.
CoffeeGuy’s our favorite.
My omega is annoyingly good at pointing out all the things I don't want to admit.
Stupid username. Stupider opinions about black coffee. Quick wit, though. No weird innuendos. No performative alpha energy. When he talks it feels like he's actually there.
Easy, my omega hums. Plus, you have so much in common.
I snort. “We have one thing in common,” I remind her.
Two, she sniffs. You forgot that you both like coffee.
I almost laugh at that. He doesn’t even consider my lattes coffee.
He’s easy to talk to.
I press my palms against the table. “He’s easy to text,” I quietly chide her.
Texting is edited. Anyone with a keyboard and thirty seconds to check AI can write a decent response.
This is business. Just business. Heat business.
He’ll walk in. He’ll be tall-ish, because they’re all tall-ish. He won’t rock my world, but he won’t disgust me. Safely beige. Like the five alphas before him. Pleasant smelling but forgettable.
I’ll say yes. He’ll say yes. We’ll coordinate schedules. And then we’ll never see one another again.
My omega shifts restlessly. He noticed your smiley face.
“Stop it,” I mutter.
You laughed so hard at the fish-down-the-pants story that you had to put your phone down.
“That’s because he’s funny.”
But you LIKE him.
“Enough,” I say with a little more force. “This isn’t real. We’re just looking for someone compatible. There’s a difference.”
She gives me a look that says she knows exactly what the difference is and finds it deeply unconvincing.
Then she pauses. Voices in the hall. Alice's soft soprano followed by a deeper baritone.
The door opens. Alice steps in first. He follows.
He’s wearing a dark blue V-neck tee shirt that perfectly emphasizes the width of his shoulders and the muscles on his arms. His body fills the doorway. Tall but not towering. Strong without being bulky.
Deep umber skin. Jet black hair cut short at the sides and longer on top. And amber eyes that look like there’s a fire glowing inside him.
His left arm is in a sling, but it does nothing to diminish his perfect beauty. Every inch of him looks intentional. Sculpted. The kind of beauty that makes you briefly furious at everyone who ever used the word handsome as if it was sufficient.
I take a deep breath to steady myself.
Oooh.
His scent. Ginger first, sharp then warm. Then clove. Molasses, but not much. Something darker underneath it all. Not gingerbread-sweet, but close enough to make my mouth water and my stomach drop.
Mate.
Recognition rips through me.
His amber eyes lock onto mine. He feels it.
My perfume rises. He goes completely still, the color draining from his face.
Alice opens her mouth, but I don’t hear her. I’m locked in. Watching him.
“Mate,” I whisper.
"No." The word rips from his throat. Gruff and strained. "I… I can't."
Something moves across his face. Fast. Gone before I can name it. He clutches his hand in the fabric of his shirt. Just above his heart. Then turns.
Blood rushes in my ears. My mate just walked out on me.
Alice looks at me. “What just—”
Noooooo! My omega thrashes in my chest, wild and inconsolable in a way she has never been before. Not during heats. Not during grief. Never like this.
Tears threaten in my eyes. A painful ache sits in my throat, one I can't swallow down. My heart hurts.
And then…
A cramp crashes into me so hard I double over before I can stop myself. My fingers dig into the arms of my chair as heat coils deep in my core.
“Lark?”
My omega keens. Gone. He’s gone. He’s leaving us!
Before I can offer her reassurance, another cramp seizes me, sharper this time. My scent spikes, warm caramel gone hot and desperate. So thick it drowns out the remnants of my mate's sharp ginger. That makes my omega cry harder. I don't blame her.
Alice is on her knees in front of me. “Lark, are you—”
“My mate.” The words rip out of my throat in a broken sob. “My alpha.”
He’s gone. And I’m completely alone. Devastatingly so.