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Damnit, this woman made me feel old, and off balance. And perverted. All I wanted to do was throw her over my lap and spank her until she came. Inside my pants, my dick tried to nod its agreement with this plan. I shifted around on my seat. At this rate, I was never going to be able to stand up again.
“Grumpy, you have got to try this!” my tormenter panted, holding the croissant up to my mouth with her hand. “It’s Veronika’s audition to work with Chef Juliette after this trip, and they are the flakiest, butteriest, most delectable croissants I’ve ever—”
I grabbed her wrist and bit into the croissant, my teeth scraping her thumb as I tore off a chunk. Her eyes went as wide as the pancakes.
It may have been delicious, but all I could taste was her. All I could see was her. It took every bit of my failing self-control, but I let her wrist go and mumbled, “Good,” around the pastry.
She hummed something in response, looking as flustered as I felt inside, and moved away unsteadily. I drank the coffee a humming waiter delivered, and pondered the change in the entire atmosphere.
More of the guests began filtering into the room, drawn by the music, or the shouts from the children, perhaps. Crew brought in more chairs until half the adult wedding guests must have been there, seated practically on top of one another.
They should have been offended by the mess, the informality. Instead, I watched my omega weave some sort of spell of happiness over the crowd, making sure every new arrival was greeted and brought into the celebration. There were socialites and heads of industry who I’d never seen smiling, using toothpicks and cupcake sprinkles to build atrocious food sculptures on their plates, and then eating them.
The CEO of one of the largest petrochemical companies in the world was intently building pancake snowmen, his graying hair flecked with white sugar as he muttered something about needing more coconut flakes.
The co-owner of the Atlanta Alphas basketball team was giggling as she walked a sausage person around on top of an omelet painted like a golf course, complete with a little flag and golf ball made from an edible gold dragée.
The man next to her, who had just gone public with a new aerospace firm that I’d invested in heavily, was asking the four-year-old boy next to him, who’d made a smiling face with veggie paint directly on the tablecloth, “But is itart,mon petit? Above all, ze art is king!” The child giggled so hard, he fell out of his chair and onto the carpet.
I shook my head. Somehow, I’d fallen down a rabbit hole I’d never even seen. Following a curvy, smiling Alice who didn’t seem to notice the mayhem she caused everywhere she went.
“She’s magnificent, isn’t she?” I turned to see Dr. Rimbolt seated beside me. I hadn't even noticed him enter the room. “Like a Pied Piper of joy.”
I glanced down at his plate, which was a pile of sausages and pancakes surrounded by a lake of maple syrup. “That doesn’t seem healthy, doctor.”
“What’s the point of living if you don’t have fun on the journey, hm?” He ate for a few minutes as I watched Sunshine start a conga line with the children, while the adults laughed, clapped, and took pictures. After another moment, the doctor spoke again. “Young Soleil came to my office early this morning.”
Coffee spilled over the white linen in front of me. “Tell me why. Was she sick again? What did she need?”
“I’m afraid I can’t share that information.” I fisted my hand to keep from grabbing his lapels. “I can, however, make some general comments about omega biology and their needs.”
“I would… be very grateful if you would… educate me.”
His eyes twinkled, as they had the day before. “An omega experiencing a sudden, unexpected heat cycle will almost always take suppressants. If those were not available for any reason, well… the pain is significant, and normal painkillers only work for an hour or so, even at prescription doses. Many omegas turn to alpha friends to help them through a breakthrough heat.”
“Alpha friends?” My voice was almost a bark, and a few people nearby turned to me. I nodded and sipped my coffee, pondering how to get the information I needed. “But if an omega has a… fiancé, for example. Then it would be reprehensible to touch her.”
The doctor was grinning like a fool. “Not necessarily. An omega’s heat can be a dangerous thing. If she doesn’t have access to a nest, a place she feels safe, and to enough sexual aids to help ease her need for an alpha’s knot, a heat breakthrough—which usually lasts only for a few hours—can continue for days. It can weaken her, lead to febrile seizures, even brain damage if the fever cannot be contained.” He sighed. “Once an omega starts building a nest, the danger increases.”
The coffee cup had somehow broken in my hand, and the waiter bustled over to clean it up. When he retreated, I asked, “Is Soleil in danger?”
“I can’t tell you anything about her. She seems to trust you, though. Maybe you could ask her about a nest. Check and see if there are any sexual accessories on board to help someone experiencing this need. She is so conciliatory, so unassuming, yet effervescent. She’d never ask for what she needs, not if she thought it would upset those around her. She would never rock the boat, as they say.” The yacht pitched as he spoke, and everyone in the room shouted, then cheered, like they were on a roller coaster.
“Fuck that. I don’t care about the wedding; I will turn this boat around right now if she is—” The doctor’s hand landed on my arm.
“Calm down. A mini-heat can be resolved in a matter of hours, Giovanni. After it breaks, as long as she stays away from alphas who… appeal to her, there shouldn’t be a recurrence until her next cycle. But if an omega were experiencing a breakthrough, I would counsel her to find an alpha nearby who would help her. Male, female, it wouldn’t matter. Just someone she could trust.”
“Female alphas are rare as hen’s teeth,” I replied stiffly.
As if his words had conjured an alpha from thin air, I watched Anne-Marie Jacks, the curvy red-headed sister of my CFO, approach Soleil with a wicked smile on her face.
Which Soleil answered with a blush.
Myblush. The one she had when I embarrassed her.
And then Anne-Marie held up a hand, reaching toward her face. And Soleil’s eyes fluttered shut, leaning in.
“I don’t fucking think so, Sunshine,” I muttered, flinging myself out of the chair and marching over to my omega. I grabbed her arm, growled an “Excuse you,” to Anne-Marie, and dragged the troublesome minx away from the cacophonous room. Soleil called out for Sylvia to stay with someone named Clotilde, and then we were down the stairs, walking toward the servants’ cabins.
