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Breathing heavily, I step back from him. “It’s a guard, you idiot. So it won’t happen again!”
Silence falls over the room as we breathe heavily. Roman looks ready to throw me down and test how tamper-proof my nape guard is, and part of me wants to push him to do it. His angry eyes drop to my mouth, and heat flushes my neck, crawling toward my cheeks. Over those three days together, my body learned to respond to this man, to reach for him to fulfill my needs.
Determination darkens his eyes, and he takes a step forward to close the distance between us.
“Stop,” my mother Commands.
The weight of the word rolls right over Roman. She’s not as strong an Alpha as he is; I know it in the way he finishes the movement, leaving only a hand’s breadth between us before he turns to face her. “My apologies for yelling, Ms. Heardst.”
He turns back to me, and for a moment, I think he’ll reach for me to finish what he started.
But his hands clench at his sides. “I’ll leave for today. This is a conversation meant to be private. I’ll contact you later, Warren.” Then, as if he can’t help himself, he turns back to my mother. “My claim on Warren is in effect for three more weeks. I trust you won’t breach the Alpha Code in this.”
Her mouth drops open in shock as Roman spins on his heel and strides from the room.
Left alone with the wolves, all attention turns on me, and my mother snaps her mouth closed with a click before she demands, “Why is my Alpha son wearing a nape guard? And what did Roman mean when he said he Marked you?”
9
Resigned, I turn to face my family. I knew I couldn’t hide it forever, but I also hadn’t planned for my new status to come out like this. “So, it turns out I’m an Omega.”
“Impossible.” Mother slashes her hand through the air as if that will wipe away my words. “We haven’t had anything but Alphas for five generations.”
“It’s true. I’ve been to a doctor to verify.”
“Some small-time hack, obviously.” She pulls her cell phone from her pocket. “I’ll have Dr. Holt come out. He can bring a sedative as well. I’m going to need it after the headache you’ve caused.”
Before I can protest, she paces out of the room, the phone already pressed to her ear. I could have shown her my Mark, or the pack of suppressants I carry around because I’m not yet confident enough to know when my next Heat will come on. But I don’t bother. She won’t believe I’m an Omega until her own people confirm it.
Sighing, I settle back onto the sofa, and Roman’s scent surrounds me, prickling at my senses. He wasn’t here for long, but traces of bergamot and spice linger in the air. It makes me want to run after him, to drag him off to bed where we can just let our bodies do the talking.
From the way he acted, he still wants me, something I hadn’t expected without my Heat being involved. Hell, he even wants to marry me? I scrub my hands over my face. How did this happen? The whole world’s been turned upside down.
When I straighten, I find Katheryn staring at me from across the coffee table, her hazel eyes shrewd. “If Roman Marked you, that means you’ve already bedded him. How did you wrangle that encounter? That must have taken some planning on your part, to put yourself in his path right when your Heat came on. How long has that been going on, anyway? Were you already fucking him before Mother set up the contract with Mr. Freely, or did you seek Roman out in the hope of escaping that marriage?”
Anger burns through me. “I didn’t set out to seduce Roman. And I didn’t have to put myself in his path. I know where he is every single day.”
Her eyes widen in shock. “You’ve been stalking him as well? Are you really so desperate?”
“What? No!” I lower my voice as Stirling walks in, carrying a tray with four tall glasses of lemonade.
We stay silent as he cleans up the tea service and disappears as quietly as he came.
My upbringing kicks in, and I rise to pass Katheryn a glass before taking one for myself and settling back on the couch. I take a sip, letting the tart drink cool my anger before I face my sister once more. “No, I’m not stalking him. Roman comes into the tea shop on his way to work every day.”
Her brows pinch together. “But doesn’t he work at Markham Marketing?”
“As far as I know.” I take another sip of lemonade. “He hasn’t mentioned changing jobs.”
“They built a new office in uptown two years ago. Your tea shop is nowhere near Roman’s workplace.” She shakes her head. “He must be a tea snob to keep going out of his way.”
Unsettled, I focus on the condensation on the outside of my glass. Roman really isn’t a tea snob. He puts so much honey in his earl grey that he can’t even taste the quality of the leaves. He could have the same experience by buying the pre-bagged stuff available at the supermarket for a fraction of the price. Why would he go out of his way to continue to frequent my store?
I have a feeling it has something to do with things he said while I was lost to the fever of my first Heat. Was it possible he didn’t just ask to Mark me back then, but had asked for something even deeper? But why? He’s never been kind to me.
Except that he has. Not just during my Heat, either.
If I let my thoughts settle on Roman—something I strive not to allow—I realize Roman hasn’t been the show-off from high school that I remember him being. I had chalked that up to no longer being in class or sports together. But as I rack my memory for our interactions over the last five years, the only time he’s chafed my nerves is when he criticized my store, and it’s possible I was just over-sensitive about sound advice offered by someone raised to live and breathe marketing. Yeah, he could have been less blunt in his delivery, but the tips helped improve my business.
