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I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “I think I’ve had my fill for tonight, but thanks for the tacos.”
“My pleasure,” Dash says, settling back with a satisfied grin. “But next time, you’re coming out with us.”
“We’ll see,” I lie, finishing my taco. No one will ever catch me anywhere close to a bar. Not again.
Quinn navigates the streets with ease, and I direct him toward my neighborhood. As we get closer, the scenery changes, and the polished buildings give way to run-down structures and flickering streetlights. I feel a pang of embarrassment but push it aside. This is my reality.
Quinn slows the car as we enter my block. The contrast is stark, and I can feel the tension rise in the car. Dash’s playful demeanor fades, replaced by a sharp, protective edge.
“This is where you live?” Quinn asks, his voice low and controlled.
“Pfft,” I say with a dismissive shrug. “It’s not exactly the Ritz, but it’ll do for now. At least it’s home.”
Quinn’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, and Dash leans forward, scanning the surroundings with a critical gaze.
“This place is a dump,” Dash mutters, the words a growl. “You shouldn’t be living here.”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly, not wanting to get into it. Also, the scent hides me. An omega has to do what an omega has to do. “I manage.”
Quinn pulls up to my building and parks the car. “We’re walking you to the door,” he declares, leaving no room for argument.
“You don’t have to?—”
“We insist,” Dash interrupts.
Before I can protest further, both brothers are out of the car. Quinn opens my door, offering his hand to help me out. I take it, feeling the warmth of his grip.
“Thanks,” I mumble, stepping onto the cracked pavement. I hold my nose because he’s close and I don’t want to smell him.
What would I do if he smelled good? Swoon? Oh hell no.
An omega doesn’t simply swoon, we swan dive toward the armpits.
Dash takes up position on my other side, his presence a solid wall of protection. They flank me as we walk toward my run-down apartment building, their eyes constantly scanning for any potential threats. Surprisingly, Dash doesn’t stumble once.
“Don’t worry about me,” I say with a hint of sarcasm. “I’ve been doing just fine on my own for ages.”
“No one doubts that,” Quinn says, his voice soothing, “but it doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”
We finally arrive at my front door, and I fumble with my keys, my hands trembling. Dash notices and places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got you,” he says in a calm tone.
I unlock the door and turn to face them. “Thanks for the ride and the tacos. You didn’t have to do this.”
Quinn’s eyes soften, and he reaches out, gently squeezing my arm. “If I didn’t, then Cayenne would literally murder me, and not in my sleep either.”
Dash winces. “Yeah, we don’t fuck with Cayenne.” Dash puts on the charm. “Besides, I know where you live now.” He winks.
I smile, feeling warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with the lingering effects of the tacos. “Use that information wisely.”
Quinn steps back, his gaze lingering on me for a moment. “Stay safe, Aria. We’ll be seeing you soon.”
Is that a promise?
“Good night,” I say, reluctant to see them go.
They retreat toward the car, fading into the darkness. I observe them for a moment, overwhelmed with gratitude and an unknown emotion. As I shut the door, their presence still lingers, and I realize I don’t want to face my home alone.
That is how I know the Clarke brothers are bad for my health.
