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Violet shoots me a glance, her hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. Neither of us are known for our filter, especially not today. After waking up late and opening the bakery just an hour ago, our patience is running on fumes.
“Where’s Elenora?” The man’s frown deepens as he inquires about our boss, an alpha lady who’s even more badass than us. He crosses his arms, glaring. I’m used to this. It’s not the first time someone’s surprised to find an omega and a gamma running the shop instead of being pampered princesses in a nest.
“Well…” I draw out the word, mirroring his standoffish vibe. Despite his golden retriever looks, he’s all grumpy bear energy, and I’m not here for it. “She’s probably recovering from tending to her omega and pack. One of them went into heat, so guesswhat? You’re stuck with us. What can we do for you?” My tone edges into snarky territory.
No matter how handsome he is, I peg him as one of those alphas who thinks omegas should be barefoot, pregnant, and constantly... well, you know. Typical alpha breeding kink.
He just stands there silently, so Sawyer breaks the tension. “I’ll take a large apple crisp and a double shot of espresso, please. Got a day full of mind-numbing meetings ahead.”
I hum and turn to prepare her order, glancing back at the alpha, who still looks shell-shocked at the door. He’s like a statue, just glaring. It’s unnerving me a bit, but whatever. They usually leave when they see an unbonded omega behind the counter. Even more, with the options of gammas transitioning, they are getting the same treatment. This one, though, seems frozen in place.
The tension thickens, and a palpable friction hangs in the air.
Sawyer, oblivious to the strain, rambles on. “These council meetings are like watching paint dry. Absolutely torturous.”
“I’d rather avoid both, thanks,” Violet comments, nibbling on the breakfast sandwich I made her. “Anything interesting on the agenda today?” she asks, skimming through a magazine.
Sawyer grunts. “They are making some headway with omega and gamma rights. The sanctuary’s enrollment spiked nearly fifty percent with the new dean. Things are changing, slowly but surely.”
We’re all aware of the ongoing debate about omegas. Traditionally, we’re expected to pack up our lives and head off to the academy at the first hint of our perfume. It seemed logical initially, given that our pheromones can drive an alpha wild. Either way, being shipped off to a new home, leaving everything behind, was never an appealing prospect for most omegas. Thankfully, it’s optional now, just like college for everyone else, and that’s how it should be.
“Which is where you ladies should be,” the alpha interjects, just as I finish putting the lid on Sawyer’s coffee. His comment ignites a spark of irritation within me.
Some alphas really should stick to being seen and not heard.
Ignoring him, Sawyer smiles at me. “Chocolate croissant to go, please. I sense a heat coming on.” She then turns to the man, who’s still glaring. “Sir,” she says in her most diplomatic tone, “have you been living under a rock for the past year?”
Finally, he shifts his attention to Sawyer, blinking as if he’s noticing her for the first time. “Yes,” he replies, sounding infuriatingly confident. “I have.”
“Well, sir,” I say, drawing out the word since I don’t know his name, and I’m not sure I want to.
He cuts me off in typical alpha fashion. “Maximillian Harrington,” he announces smugly, as if his name should mean something to me.
It doesn’t.
However, Sawyer’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “Harrington? Why does that sound familiar?”
Max simply tilts his head, smirking pompously as if expecting recognition. I shoot Sawyer a glance, warning her that we might be dealing with more than just a difficult customer.
“Max,” I quip, glancing toward Violet, who seems entirely disinterested in the unfolding drama, “you’ve been in a hole, have you?” I give him a once-over. “Looks like it.”
“Oh, now I remember,” Sawyer suddenly pipes up, standing and gathering her things in a rush. Dropping a twenty on the counter, she heads for the door. Pausing, she glances back. “Good luck with that.” Her eyes flicker to the alpha before she quickly exits into the crisp late morning.
Turning back to the alpha, I start, “So, Max?—”
“It’s Maximillian,” he interjects sharply.
“Sure thing, Maximillian,” I retort, the sarcasm in my voice unmistakable. “What dragged you out of your hidey-hole?”
He exhales a sigh of exasperation, crossing his arms and grinding his jaw. His nostrils flare, possibly trying to catch my scent, which he won’t easily detect amidst the bakery’s aromas. “I have a meeting with Elenora,” he finally says.
“That’s tough, but when an omega’s in heat, you know the drill.” I shrug nonchalantly. It’s common knowledge that during a heat, a pack is untouchable, sequestered away. Ironically, it’s one of the few laws I actually agree with.
A timer dings, and Violet mutters under her breath. She stands, her boots clanking against the floor, and turns off the timer. Casting a glance from me to our alpha guest, she saunters past him and ducks behind the counter to the back. I can’t help feeling a bit abandoned, left to deal with an alpha sporting a man bun who seems utterly out of his element.
Trying to be somewhat accommodating, I offer, “I’ll leave a message for Elenora to contact you, but her omega just went into heat last night, so it’ll be at least a week before she’s available.”
He finally softens, perhaps realizing his earlier demeanor was less than charming. Taking several long strides, he approaches the counter. He towers over me, every inch the bear—large and imposing.
