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Fucking hell. That might be the worst part, after her fear. She thought today would be the day she met her soulmates, and I ruined it for her.
I’m not the pack alpha she wants or needs. She saw me at my worst. And now she probably can’t trust me.
I failed her.
I failed my pack.
I still am. Because this omega is no closer to coming home with us now than she was when I arrived. And what’s worse? She actually needs to. This place is a death trap.
The faint scent of mildew lingers, which means the air quality in here is poor. There are cracks in the plaster—vertical ones. Unacceptable. And I’m about 99 percent sure that if I opened a wall, I’d find lead pipes.
It isn’t safe here.
It’s built so poorly, I’m shocked it hasn’t just fallen over.
The thought has me half-crazed while I stare her down. I’m so incensed, I can’t even remember what we’re arguing about from one second to the next.
Oh, right. She wants to sleep in a house full of other alphas. Four of them.
Dear God.
Is this what a heart attack feels like? Should I be calling an ambulance before I fucking die from whatever this ache in my chest is?
Control, I remind myself. Maintain control.
It’s hard. Especially given the state of this tiny room.
She has the ceiling cracks, too. And a sloping pocket where her roof is distended, either from past or present water damage. I can’t smell the mildew as strongly in here, but that’s likely just because she’s currently all I can sense.
Delicious honeyed cake batter soaks into my lungs with every breath. My cock jerks, brushing the fist in my left pocket. I exhale slowly, willing myself not to chase the throb pounding down my length and into my knot.
I know the basics of scent-sensitivity, but I never expected this instantaneous need. I feel like my heart might stop if I try to turn and walk away right now.
Remi trembles, sensing the aggressive pheromones I’m pumping into the small space. When a shiver skips down her spine, she straightens, thrusting her chest out and lifting her chin to expose her throat.
God, that graceful arc will look beautiful with my bite.
The thought startles me. I hate not being in control and, right now, I can’t even see my own reins anymore. How am I supposed to pull back from this tug in my middle? It’s yanking me toward her, tauter and tauter with every scrape of sweet-soaked breath.
She grasps her robe tighter. “P-please don’t look at me like that.”
Like what?
When I cock my head at her and raise my eyebrows, she blows out a hard breath. She has the softest voice, even when it takes on sharp edges. “What you’re saying—all of these demands—aren’t rational. You have no control over me, and you want to force me out of my own apartment? I know this isn’t much, but I’ve done the best I can with what I have!”
I can see that’s true. The fake flowers in empty jars. Her light pink paint. Old, well-worn books arranged in artful stacks, and pretty, hand-decorated picture frames.
She has nothing, but she’s still a lady. Standing before me, this omega is the epitome of grace.
What if she couldn’t go to school or get a higher-paying job because she didn’t have any guardians or any resources? What if she needed us? Me. And I wasn’t there?
Well, I’m here now.
I may not have much to offer in the relationship department, but Pierson Properties and our personal investments are thriving. As far as money goes, I can give her everything. All the things I never had. All the stuff I couldn’t give the guys when we were young.
We have more than enough, now. And I can spoil this omega to the point of excess if she’ll let me.
I can already tell she enjoys fine clothing as much as I do. The dress she had on today wasn’t designer, but it was a nice fabric, and she clearly took good care of it. In fact, all her things appear perfectly clean and well-preserved.
