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"Pretty much since I was a kid," I reply after May takes the plates away. "It used to be worse. Some years, I sleep normally, but I’ve always been somewhat of an insomniac."
"I feel like you all know so much about me and my family. But I don’t know anything about you, where you come from. Were your parents betas, like Red’s and Cass’s?"
"Nah, I grew up in a pack."
Imogen might notice I’m being evasive, but she looks at me so earnestly, so trusting, I feel like a dick for not wanting to share the darker shit. Maybe I just want to spare her.
But she keeps on smiling and blinking sweetly, waiting for more, so I hedge, "Shit wasn’t great. It’s one of the reasons I wasn’t interested in an omega before you. My mom… she uh. She basically spent her days in the kitchen or on her back. Didn’t matter who was around, or if I was standing right there. One of my dads would say get down on your knees or lift your skirt, and she’d do it. They were abusive fucks. I hated it. Them. Pack life."
"That’s absolutely awful. For her and for you. I'm so terribly sorry, Iggy. No child should have to go through that. No wonder you were so reluctant. But you and the guys formed Dante pretty young, didn’t you?"
"Yeah, that’s true. I guess, when I met them, they were good people, and we had Alma and Phe, and shit just felt right. They were stronger than the people who raised me. Their families were good people. Forming Dante was as easy as breathing. But once we became an official pack, that’s when the expectations set in. We weren’t purposefully trying to buck against the system. I just didn’t want to be told what a pack should and shouldn’t do. I got enough of that shit growing up. My dads always telling me what makes a real alpha, a real man. Plus, I didn't want to be like them. Sometimes I get ragey, and when I get pissed, I have a hard time not overreacting with my fists. I never wanted to take the chance I could hurt someone." An omega, or you, I leave unsaid, but she nods in understanding.
She’s quiet, and looks sad, so I nudge her foot under the table.
"Are they still… around? Alive?"
A slight shake of my head, and Imogen gasps. She’s too fucking sweet. "My mom died a few years after I left. Supposedly some cardiac event, I don’t know. I suspect my fathers just used up all her life and she had nothing left to give. I'm pretty sure my dads are still kickin' it somewhere, but who the fuck knows. Or cares."
"I am very sorry, Iggy. That’s a lot."
"You’re sweet, you know that?"
Imogen smirks. "So, your insomnia…"
"I just never knew stability when I was a kid or when one of my dads was gonna wake me up and wail on me cause the trash wasn’t out or some shit. So now, I dunno, I have trouble falling into it, getting real rest. It doesn’t matter. I’m fine Im, I promise."
She looks unconvinced, but I’m saved when May comes over with one big ass slice of pie and two forks.
"Did you order this?" Imogen asks in amusement after May drops off the plate.
"Cherry pie, sweetheart, is my all-time favorite thing, and I eat so much of it here that I don’t even need to order it anymore, May just knows what I like." I cut a piece, filling the fork with a dainty, Imogen-sized bite, and hold it out.
She lights up and leans forward, red lips parting, mouth closing around the spoon. Her eyes close in pleasure, a few crumbs falling on her lips, and she moans, and the sound shoots straight to my cock.
I crook my finger, gesturing her closer, and she leans in. I lick the crumbs off, then kiss her, tasting that sweet cherry pie on my mate's lips.
"Nothing has ever tasted so fucking good. It’s you, Imogen. The taste of your lips, your skin, your slick, deep inside your pussy, your flavor changes, darker, brighter, more intense. I could taste you for days. That’s how I knew you were the one. I couldn’t get you out of my head before I scented you, but once I did… cherry fucking pie… it was all over. You’re it for me, Im."
She’s panting and gives me a slight, jerky nod before I pull away, taking another bite of pie. We finish it in silence, and before we head back to the warehouse to hang with the guys, Imogen wraps her arms around me, legs squeezing me tight from behind after we climb on my motorcycle.
"Have you ever had sex on your bike, Iggy?" She whispers into my ear.
I growl in response, revving the engine. Imogen giggles, and it's the sweetest sound over the roar of my bike.
I fly through the streets, then drive to the back of a quiet park, to a small copse of trees where no one ever goes. One of the benefits of never sleeping is that you know all the good spots because you have all night to find them while everyone else wastes away in slumber.
I tug down her pants and taste her cherry scent within seconds of parking, and then she's impaling herself and riding me on the bike, praising me, my piercings, and all of her gifts. We're home before sundown.
It was a perfect fucking date.
Chapter 28
Imogen
Staring at my closet, I wonder how many of my things I can sneak away with before my mother notices I’ve essentially moved out. I could lie and say I’m living with the Stevens Pack, but I don’t trust her not to call and confirm. My mother walks into my bedroom like it’s her personal space, and eventually, she will notice my things are missing.
When did things get so twisted in my family that I had to sneak out and lie about where I was and what was happening in my life?
