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“Yes, all of those,” she confirmed with an irritated frown. “It’s not funny. I thought I was perhaps asexual.”
“Why?”
I hadn’t meant to sound incredulous, but Olly’s claim had taken me by surprise.
Asexuality wasn’t common among our sex—but that did not mean it was impossible. The biological laws of attraction dictated that pheromones overruled logic. Oftentimes, that was a disastrous precedent, especially among fool-headed Alphas who could not differentiate an omega’s true desire from pheromone-laced desperation.
When many of our biological urges—from fight to flight to fucking—was dictated by scent, hormones, and pheromones, it seemed unbelievable that Olly hadn’t been able to feel one crucial element.
Perhapsthatwas why she was more level-headed than the rest of us.
As she mulled her response, she drummed her fingertips lightly on my silken pajama top.
“I liked Cryssa’s companionship,” she admitted. “Spending time together, working on projects, holding hands, touching cheeks…”
“But not riding the baloney pony?”
Her lips thinned into a flat line. “Do you always have to be so crude?”
“Crude?” I pretended to be aghast. “I thought I was beinghilarious.”
She shook her head, aghast. “You’re a weirdo, Zo.”
“No,” I insisted, poking her in the shoulder. “You are.”
I thought she would berate me for being childish, but instead, she rose in a swift move and straddled my right thigh. Purrscilla chirped in protest and padded over to the foot of the bed.
My breaths ceased altogether as Olly pressed her chest to mine, cupping my cheeks in her palms.
“You should stop talking,” she whispered, stroking her thumbs across my cheeks. “It makes you less attractive.”
My palms found the curve of her bottom, holding tight. She nuzzled my cheeks, my chin, the corners of my mouth. Sweet words of praise left her lips—how good I smelled, how warm I was, how beautiful I looked.
“Wait.” I pressed a finger to her lips, holding back her kiss. “Before I forget.”
“What?” Olly questioned impatiently, her breaths puffing against my finger.
“About Cryssa,” I said, willing the gruffness away from my voice. “You will not be marrying her.”
“Zo…”
“No,” I warned, covering her lips with the cup of my palm. “Take care of it, or I will cause the biggest scene at your wedding.”
She murmured something muffled behind my palm.
“I will do it all, Olly,” I cautioned. “Burst into the ceremony at the last moment to object to the wedding. Steal you away on horseback. Or coerce the poor priestess to marry us instead.Don’tforce my hand. You know I’ll do it.”
Olly’s throat worked as she gazed into my eyes.
“You terrify me, you fool-headed Alpha.”
Her whisper sounded like a confession.
“Terrify you… in a good way?” I wished to clarify.
“Onlyyouwould have a positive connotation for the wordterrify,” she chastised, feathering a kiss over my forehead.
Her squeal of surprise rang in my ears as I tipped her over onto the brocade quilt, covering her frame with my own. The smarting on my thigh reminded me of the several stitches running up my side, and I grabbed a pillow to soften the pressure on the tender area.
