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I’d just finished hanging the final new painting for the upcoming gallery show when my phone started vibrating in my back pocket.
Our artists each got to exhibit three pieces at a time, and this last grouping was particularly good. Still-life oils, done in bright colors. Reds and yellows flared in the midmorning sunshine that streamed through the tall window of the storefront.
The gallery was on the bottom floor of an older brick office building. We were on a busy shopping street near downtown, and I wanted these paintings right up front where people could see them. Even though we had to take care not to let the natural light damage the art, it was a great location. I loved how the white walls and blond hardwood floors of the space lit up at this time of day.
Caller ID showed Kat, and I stifled a sigh. My sister Katherine usually didn’t call me at work unless it had to do with our parents. I was in a good mood. I didn’t feel like ruining it by taking that kind of call.
The bell over the door chimed behind me as I walked toward the back. I heard Allison, our always stylish gallery assistant, greeting a customer. It was better if I wasn’t on the floor anyway, since I was dressed for manual labor in a simple blouse and jeans.
When I arrived at my combination office and storage room, I swiped the screen to answer the call.
“What’s up, Kat? I’m at work.” I closed the door and settled into my ancient, creaky chair, behind the desk that held my computer and an overflowing inbox of paperwork.
“Sorry to bug you.” My sister’s voice was subdued. She’d seemed sad lately but didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t push. “We’re having that party this Saturday, the one you didn’t want to come to. I know you’re going to be pissed, but Mom and the Dads found out you weren’t coming. It just slipped out. I didn’t mean to tell them. I think they’re going to call you, and I wanted to give you a heads-up. I’m sorry.”
Shit. “It’s okay. You shouldn’t have to keep secrets for me. That’s not your job.”
Kat was always the peacemaker of the family, trying to smooth things over between me and our parents, but she shouldn’t have had to. They should have accepted my situation a long time ago. Instead, they were still trying to “do something” about it. At least Kat was understanding; she totally got it. I didn’t know what I would have done without her to lean on.
“You don’t need to come. Don’t let them bully you into it.”
“I know. It gets old, though. If Mom would just ease up, it wouldn’t be a problem.”
I cringed, thinking about the last gathering we’d all been at. She’d actually introduced me to a graying alpha as “my unbonded omega daughter, Sylvie.” The look he’d given me, like I must have something terribly wrong with me, had made me want to crawl into a hole and never come out.
“Maybe if you talk to her and I talk to her, set some ground rules…”
“I’ll talk to her. You know I really do want to come. I’m not avoiding you.” It was mostly true. I avoided seeing her with her pack, but I didn’t avoid Kat. She probably noticed. “You know what? Yeah. I’m going to come. I’ll talk to Mom.”
“Really?” There was such brightness to her voice that it made me feel guilty. She probably thought I didn’t like her pack.
“Yes, really.” I heard a noise like a muffled yell outside my door, and I frowned. “Hey, something’s going on in the gallery. I gotta go.”
“Okay, talk soon.”
I hung up and pocketed my phone while I walked quickly out of the office to the source of the commotion. Allison intercepted me before I got very far, gesturing over her shoulder toward the front of the gallery.
“It’s some alpha, saying he’s scenting an omega. Looks kind of feral.” We both walked toward the yelling.
“Crap. Is Reggie here?” Reggie helped with displays and worked the register. He was a big guy, so he could probably handle a physical situation if he had to. “Has anyone called the cops?”
“Reggie’s trying to calm him down. I thought maybe we could get him into your office, call one of his packmates to come get him or something. Assuming he has a pack.”
Most alphas did. I nodded at her. It was never preferable to have a police car parked outside your business.
We rounded one of the gallery walls, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
He was…stunning. Like some otherworldly faerie or fallen angel, tall and broad with pale skin, longish white hair, even white eyelashes and eyebrows. His eyes were mostly hidden behind extremely thick glasses, a sign of his low vision, but I already knew they had a pinkish tint.
I knew who he was. Jonah Lance, a busy artist I’d been trying to persuade to teach in our program. He was up front about his albinism, didn’t shy away from interviews. But when we corresponded, he explained that sometimes it overshadowed his art. He was stepping back from publicity in order to focus on his current projects and let the art speak for itself. I hadn’t expected him to come here.
Now that I saw him in person, his appearance was striking, but not because of his coloring. It was the perfection of his face, somehow both strong and delicate, with a firm jaw and high cheekbones. He was talking, but all I seemed to be able to do was watch his lips. Full and sexy as hell. My eyes drifted down over his snug, long-sleeved shirt and denim jeans that hugged a particularly nice ass and just…Damn.
The words he was saying finally penetrated the haze.
“She’s here. Shit. Please get out of my way.” He looked desperate, frantic. His deep voice had an edge of panic that made my heart ache for him.
Allison leaned over to my ear and whispered, “There’s no one else here. It’s a good thing the omega he’s scenting must have already left. It looks like he’d rut them on the floor.”
