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“Remember your omega’s scent,” Celeste presses. “Try to bring in more softness.”
I close my eyes and inhale, imagining the caramel apple swirl that I’ve only tasted in my dreams.
Lilah straddling one of my legs, Orion balanced on the other, both of them safe and smiling in my arms.
Now, instead of cloth, I feel Lilah’s silky hair under my fingertips. I remember how strong she is. How noble and fucking delicate. How she’s so much more than I deserve, and I want to wrap her in diamonds and silk and tuck her away so she never feels pain again.
“Good girl,” I say huskily.
Celeste hums. “Now that’s how you set the mood. What else can you compliment?”
“So perfect.” I stroke the doll’s head, imagining Lilah’s precious smile—the smile I wipe from her face every time I open my alphahole mouth.
I wince, but stick with it, tagging in Orion instead.
That smirk he wears when he unbuckles my belt. His soft lips and his breathy sighs that feather my neck on the rare mornings I’m not out the door at four a.m. and we can wake up curled together. “So good for me. Wanna bite you. Make you mine again.”
“Why, Mister Wyvern. Look at all that sweetness you’ve hidden away.” Celeste fans herself, and her swoon snaps me back to my public audience where I’m dry-humping a dummy, and purring like a pregnant cat.
I cough. “Was that right?”
“Did it feel right?”
It felt fucking creepy.
But I get the gist of where I’ve been going wrong. Too much hammering. Whipping everyone with my bark instead of just being present and asking what they need.
Communication.
It’s a new concept.
Because when Scorpio shouted, I fell in line or else. He ran the house like a regiment, and that’s how I learned to run my teams.
He trained me to give orders, not take care of a family.
But I can learn.
Finally, Celeste lets us put away the creepy dolls so we can break for lunch. I inhale a cardboard sandwich and pace the lobby.
Hunter took my phone.
I’m so desperate for intel, I put out a raging dominance force field that keeps the other alphas twenty feet away.
It’s a relief to go back in session. I devour the afternoon workshop on heat cycles and soothing techniques.
I’m glad I’m learning, but the lecture tosses more guilt boulders onto my sagging shoulders.
I’ve been doing everything wrong.
Not enough touch, affection, reassurance.
Turns out, I have to say what I feel.
But I attack the books the same way I attacked learning combat. If I can learn, I can do better.
I’ll eat every slice of humble pie with a side of crow pudding.
At the end of the day, I haul ass to my truck, needing to see Lilah and Orion with a desperation that turns my veins to frayed electric wires.
