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“Good, you don’t need to be self-conscious. I get that it’s hard because of the fame, but we’re just regular guys.”
“Ha, you think I’m intimidated because you play music?Look at you.”
“Thanks.” I chuckle, nuzzling my cheek to the top of her head. “But you’re ignoring that this goes both ways. Look atyou. You rocked me to my foundations last night, shortcake.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been as real with anyone as I am about that. It was a literal battle all night long not to stomp down the hall and spear her on my cock—ideally while sinking my teeth in so that she’ll never be able to escape.
Alpha impulses are the real deal.
It’s no longer shocking to me that my parents bondedfor lifewithin three weeks of meeting. They’ve had a long and happy union. That leads me to believe Mother Nature knows what she’s doing.
I’ve been around unbonded omegas before and never once had the type of thoughts that are constantly running through my head since meeting Tinley. I’m not religious, but I do try to pay attention when the universe gives me a sign.
That’s why I intend to ask if she’s open to courting. It’s basically the equivalent of monogamous dating for betas. We buy her shit, she sees if she thinks she’ll be happy with us for life, and we do the same. It’s a pretty streamlined process for alphas and omegas.
Tinley sighs. “I feel like I have to be honest. I’m not technically an omega. I don’t know if the doctors consider me a beta, now that I’m twenty-one and haven’t presented, but I thought you should know.”
I frown, remembering what Fitz said. She’s never had a heat, but I guess I never thought through all the ramifications. To legally be an omega, the person has to have a heat cycle, no matter their anatomy. For male alphas, we have to pop a knot to present the same way female alphas develop a lock.
It’s kind of bizarre when you think about it, but my instincts don’t give a fuck that she’s never had a heat. I’m fairly sure what she experienced last night was a wave of heat.
“My impulses are convinced you will,” I say and immediately wish I’d kept my mouth shut. That sounded shitty, when all I was trying to do was reassure her. “Even if you don’t, that’s all right too.”
“Yeah,” she says weakly.
“Okay, so on to more uncomfortable subjects.” I stretch forward, grabbing the printouts I grabbed from the tour doctor. “Might as well get them all out of the way at once, yeah?”
“What is this?” She takes the papers, scanning through them.
“It’s mine, War’s, and Fitz’s pre-tour lab results. They test us before every trip. Likely to make sure we aren’t…” Why don’t I ever think before I speak? “Anyway, we’re clean. They gave me the okay to show you their records.”
“Okay.” She flips through the pages. “I haven’t had sex with anyone since my last relationship. I got tested after, but I don’t have the results with me or anything. Maybe I could check the app? Or I could probably contact the doctor and ask—”
My head shakes. “That’s not necessary. Not for me, anyway.”
Is it ridiculous that I’m strangely grateful she’s not a virgin? It definitely makes me feel a fuckton less guilty. That’s the complicated part when it comes to alphas and omegas. I physically couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her in pain when she was perfuming, but once the fog slipped away, I had all sorts of opinions on what I could have done differently.
She hands me the papers back, chewing at her lip like she’s thinking through something.
“Want to open your birthday gift?” I ask, clearing my throat and trying to figure out why I’m so awkward with her. I can flirt with almost anyone. It’s kind of my gift.
“You really didn’t have to get me anything.” She smiles, patting my chest.
I toss the papers on the coffee table before picking up the gift bag.
“Oh, shortcake. I absolutely did.” I put it between us, nodding.
She reaches into the bag, and her jaw falls as the expensive-as-fuck lens ricochets back into the bag, landing between us. “Holy shit, you got me the full-frame constant aperture telephoto master lens.”
That was a mouthful, but I’m pretty sure that is what I bought. I nod, hoping it’s still intact after that tumble. Oh well, if it’s not, I’ll buy a replacement.
“And the vertical grip in case you wanted it.” I bite my lip as my heart beats faster.
God, I hope she likes it.
Let’s just say that was a five-thousand-dollar trip to the camera store. It took four calls before I found a local spot that carries the model she has. The guy who sold me the accessories swore she’d love the grip since it has thumb controls. She has tiny hands, so it seemed like a good choice.
“Ramsey,” she whispers, slapping me on the shoulder.
