Page 6
I look up, startled, and nod quickly. “Yeah.” Shit. There’s a sour tinge to my scent. He probably thinks I’m unhappy waiting. “One of those sad animal cruelty posts came up on my feed,” I lie. “That’s all.”
“I’ll be done soon.”
“There’s no rush, honestly. I really don’t want to inconvenience you.”
I sit for who knows how much longer—to my time-blind ass it could be five minutes or an hour—and then get up and cross the room to the bookshelf. “Is it okay if I look at these?”
“Go ahead.”
I kneel and pull out a book titled Ka Whawhai Tonu Matou: Struggle Without End, and realise it’s a history book from a Māori perspective. The page edges are yellowed with age, and multiple tabs stick out near the base. I flick through the pages and get the daunting feeling that there’s a huge amount of history to this country that tourists like me are never shown and therefore never see. There’s a few sections of photos interspersed between the pages. A protest. People I assume are politicians. Sculptures. I turn the page again and find a photo of a strikingly beautiful woman, her hips and lower belly tattooed in patterns that are recognisably Māori, and read the words underneath ‘There has been a strong renaissance in the taking of moko.’
“That book was from my Māori Studies papers, fuckin’… nineteen years ago now.”
I startle at Matiu’s voice.
“I’m distracting you,” I say apologetically.
He props his chin on his closed fist and stares at me. I stare back. I could get lost in his face forever, my fingers itching to trace the sharp edge of his cheekbones, the unique curve of his upper lip, the edge of his strong jaw. Perhaps I should be self-conscious about the way his eyes drift down my neck to my breasts, but when he makes eye contact again all I feel is a profound sense of intimacy between us.
And then I start to perfume.
The corner of his mouth turns up in a wry smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “You’re distracting me, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s not a bad thing at all.” He looks back at his laptop screen for a moment, and then closes it with a definitive snap, leaning back in his chair. “I’m done.”
“Are you sure? I can wait.”
“I’m sure. Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Three
Matiu
They talk about head versus heart, but when it comes to an alpha reacting to his scent-matched omega, it’s more like head versus dick.
My car is filled with Lizzie’s omega pheromones, so potent that I could close my eyes and be picking blackberries off the vine or biting down on the juiciest strawberry plucked straight from the plant.
She’ll be the best thing I ever eat.
Calm down. Just thinking about getting the chance to have a taste is messing with my head, specifically because my blood has rushed south to other regions. It doesn’t help that she has the greatest pair of tits I’ve ever seen in my life, and that she’s stunningly beautiful. It’s a good thing that I have to keep my eyes on the road so I don’t stare at her all day like a creep. She’s going to undo fifteen years of careful avoidance with nothing more than her sweet smile and her big blue eyes.
“So what are your plans for this trip?” I ask, forcing myself not to think about the fact that I’ve been here before with another scent-matched omega. She’d seemed like a safe bet, and yet that hadn’t worked out. This one isn’t even planning on staying in the country permanently and she’s scent matched to Scott. It’s my worst nightmare, a fucking cosmic joke, and yet I have an overwhelming urge to make this work.
I keep reminding myself that my past isn’t her fault. If the drama with Elaine had never happened then I’d be over the moon right now. Most people never get even one chance in their lifetime, let alone two.
“Honestly, I was still deciding on my itinerary, and then…” she gestures in my direction, as if to say And then I found out about you. “But, I have a list of places I want to visit. The trouble is they’re all really spread out, so it’s not really viable unless I spend every day driving, which I don’t want to do. Preferably, I don’t even drive at all,” she adds with a slightly nervous laugh, “given everything is on the opposite side of the road.”
A sudden wave of protectiveness hits me, and I grip the steering wheel tighter. I don’t want her driving on our winding country roads—or anywhere in Auckland—without a decent amount of practice. It’s too dangerous. “You haven’t figured out transport yet?”
She blushes, and I realise that I probably sounded a little too judgemental. “I wanted to keep my options open. Land in the country first, gather my bearings, and then make decisions as I go. And if that ends up with me flying between destinations, so be it. In my experience it’s one thing to read on the internet that this place is safe for solo omega travel, and another thing to experience it.”
“True.” Not many omegas travel alone, and other than the fact that she’s my scent match, it’s one of the things that surprised me the most about her so far. “You’re safe here. Or safe enough; you’ve still gotta have your wits about you, but that’s the same as anywhere. By and large Aotearoa is a safe place.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
The car grows silent, and it’s not awkward as such, but it’s not a fantastic feeling either. I clear my throat. “So let’s hear about these places you want to go.”
“Okay. I have an actual list for once,” she adds in a mutter that I don’t think she intended for me to hear, and I glance over to where she’s scrolling through a bullet-pointed document on her phone.
She rattles off names of places, occasionally struggling with the pronunciation of Māori words, though it’s easy enough to figure out what she means.
