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“I can’t eat another bite of anything,” I protested, faintly, not because I wasn’t full (I was) but because I liked this. Being told to eat delicious food, to taste all of it, to indulge, and having a gorgeous, amazingly scented alpha be utterly affected by my pleasure?
It was not even remotely bad.
“Yes, you can, omega,” he said. He picked up a fork, stabbed a boneless barbecue wing and beckoned.
I leaned forward, a little mesmerized, and he fed it to me.
“Good girl,” he said, sucking in a breath.
I was too full of food to feel turned on, but… well… I mean, I couldn’t help it. I squirmed in my chair, and I felt the rush of sensation that meant I was perfuming.
He stuck the fork I’d eaten from in his mouth, groaning. “Your scent, omega.”
I squirmed some more.
He caught sight of something over my shoulder. He reached across the table for my hand. “Okay, here, let me calm you down before Annie gets over here, sparrow.” A rush of steadying sensation came through his fingers into my body, overwhelming my feelings of fullness and my sexual arousal, making me calm and in charge of myself. The way these alphas could do that to me, it was disconcerting sometimes.
A minute later, a woman with salt-and-pepper hair cropped short around her smiling face stopped by the table. She folded her arms over her chest. “Well, I had given up on you, Davey-boy.”
Sinclair angled back in his chair, beaming up at her. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
She snorted. “You try to flirt with me and I’m going to riot. That’s just wrong.”
“Not flirting,” said Sinclair. “I just, uh, I wanted you to meet my omega.”
Annie turned to look at me. “Prettier than on TV.”
I was embarrassed. Should I say thank you? “It’s nice to meet you.” I offered her my hand.
She shook with me. “And they haven’t had time to turn you into a snob.” She turned back to Sinclair. “That’s one thing, Davey-boy, that we could always say about your mama. She was no snob.”
“No,” said Sinclair. “She really wasn’t.”
Annie put her hands on her hips. “How was the menu?”
“A perfect tasting menu,” said Sinclair.
“So, you approve.”
“We loved it,” I said. “Everything was delicious.”
Annie grinned. “Okay, well, she likes my cooking. I give you my blessing.”
“Good,” said Sinclair. “I value your opinion.”
Annie snorted. “Isn’t it all decided with scents and fate and science or something?”
“Nah,” said Sinclair. “It’s not decided. Sure, I am affected by that. But if you like her—”
“I’ve met her for two minutes,” said Annie. She reached over and ruffled his hair.
“Do you think…?” Sinclair shook his head. “Never mind.” He fished out his cigarettes.
“I do,” said Annie with a small smile. “I think your mother would have liked her a lot.”
Sinclair’s expression changed. He looked devastated for a moment, like he might start crying.
My heart went out to him.
