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Dylan jerks back away from us. “Sure. Later.”
Onyx looks between us, a small frown between her brows. She tugs at the sleeve of the jumper until her hand is swallowed. Dylan stalks past her, slamming the door shut and making her jump.
I stare at the door with regret.
“You did the right thing,” Onyx says in a low voice.
“DId I? I’m not so sure.” I rock back on the chair, swinging it so I’m facing her, and then I refocus on the reason she’s here. “You’re very observant.”
“Only with people. I think it’s a survival thing. I read moods and pick up habits and tells quickly.”
I watch her. “And you’re certain there’s something wrong with me tonight?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re in here because…”
She flounders for a minute, her cheeks turning pink. She plucks at her sleeve again. “You helped me, and you care about Dylan. I misjudged you at first.” Her blush deepens, and I smile, watching her.
She looks up and smiles back at me, and everything inside me goes still. There’s nothing special about her right now, but it’s like I’m seeing her for the first time. Wisps of hair float around her face. Her eyelashes sweep down and up, long and as dark as a raven’s wing. The light coconut of her scent teases me.
The alpha inside me rises and inhales the scent.
Deep inside my head, I hear my voice growl two words.
She’s mine.
I stand up, following my instincts. I grab her wrist and pull her towards me. She stumbles into my chest, peering up and then back down at my shirt.
“Always shirts,” she says, and I’m momentarily confused.
“What else would I wear?” I ask in amusement as I brush back those wisps of hair.
Her eyes close, and she leans into my caress. “Something less stiff. Like a tee-shirt or a jumper.”
“Ah, but if I did that, the sheer magnetism of my aura would have you on your knees.”
She laughs lightly and then wraps her arms around my chest. “You’re a much better alpha than I thought you were, Falcon Treyfield. I’m really glad I had time to get to know you.”
She lets her arms drop, but I wrap mine around her, holding her, trapping her because I'm not ready to give her up yet.
“There's nothing wrong that I can’t take care of,” I mumble. “But thank you for checking.”
“Okay. So, you're telling me to butt out, right?” She relaxes and curls her arms back around me.
“No, I’m telling you I’ll take care of what is bothering me and that you don’t need to worry. It’s a small matter.” I lean forward, pressing my face against her hair and inhaling that coconut scent that is driving me nuts. “Was your mother like you?”
She nods against my chest. “Silver and I look like her. But she was a beta like me. She was so kind, though, and happy. She was always singing, off-key and a beat too slow to the song, and she’d always make up the words, but she was happy, you know. Even though Dad wasn’t. She made these little puffs out of pastry and hotdogs. They were so good.”
“My mother is a cold and hard woman. But she will fight to the death for you once she decides you’re worth it,” I say to her and wonder why I'm telling her this.
“Where is she now?”
“On a beach somewhere getting some sun with my father’s assistant.”
“Your father’s not with her?”
“My father died. He was one of the world’s biggest assholes. My mother was in love with his assistant. The day he died, they took off on a holiday that hasn’t ended. We all knew about it, even my father. He refused to divorce her out of spite because he hated her, but she came from money and standing. But she got the last laugh.”
