Page 31 of Bonds and Beasts

Bello's hand squeezes lightly in my hair before he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. His tongue traces my bottom lip before he pulls back. "Good girl," he praises, and I'm flooded with heat, suddenly wishing there was somewhere to hide my face in this car while also wishing we had more time in it.

Unfortunately, it rolls to a stop at the very edge of town by the lake. I can see tents, equipment, lots of milling people, and the water beyond. It's time to rejoin the world.

***

There aren't too many folks here, so no one notices me as the guys give me a quick tour of the place, letting me know where they'll be and where I can get food, water, or anything else I need. We're passing the food tents when I hear a sharp intake of breath and tense. The alphas next to me tense too.

"Oh dear!" a voice exclaims. I turn to find a face I haven't seen since I started living in the west wing. Mrs. Portidge, teary-eyed with hands over her chest as though the wind was knocked clean out of her lungs.

My mind stutters as she walks slowly toward me.

"Oh, you look so different." Suddenly she throws her arms around me and pulls me against her. She smells of baked bread, like I remember. The burning behind my eyes is too much and I struggle to hold back tears. I gently guide her behind a stack of crates so we're less noticeable, and the pack follows.

"Mrs. Portidge, I—Mr. Clocks told me you had quit after… after what happened on my birthday."

The alphas exchange looks behind us but I ignore them.

She shakes her head. "Clocks told me, and everyone really, that you had to go to an estate across the country."

I stare at her. "He told me you didn't want to see me. That no one did."

"That couldn't be further from the truth, I assure you." She tells me about the meals she cooked believing they were for a live-in housekeeper she never saw. Because I was behind the scent neutralizing walls of the west wing, she never scented me. I give her brief details about Mr. Clocks and his arrest. "You poor girl." We catch up a little more until the guys have to start their shoots.

As I watch her walk away, I realize that I really want to be a part of the world again. And maybe the world wants me back too.

Dean

Isay my lines wrong and miss cues and turn the wrong way. The director's face is turning red and she has some papers in her hands that she keeps twisting like she's pretending they're my neck.

I don't give a single fuck. I glance off to the side where the workers are. Adison is sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair with a pad of paper on her knee and a pen in her hand. It looks like she's scribbling down notes, but the last time I'd looked in on her she was making a list.

"What's this?" I'd asked.

She hadn't tried to hide the list, but it was clear she hadn't expected anyone else to notice it either. "It's a list of things I'd like for when we go nest shopping," she says almost timidly. "Or, you know, I could go by myself if you didn't want to or—"

I silence her by leaning down and grazing my cheek along hers. "Bello, Easton, and I were talking about our courting date this weekend. We could go to the big nest store in Traverse City. Get dinner before? What's your favorite food?" We're so close our noses are nearly touching. Thankfully she's in a small area surrounded by tent walls so no one can see us. Not that I give a fuck about being seen with her, but I don't want the press hounding her.

"Sushi," she admits.

I flash a wicked grin. I love sushi, Bello loves sushi, Easton… "Perfect. We'll get dinner and we'll make sure you have a nest up and running."

That conversation was two hours ago, and now I'm dying to be close to Adison again. To give her my scent, to get her scent. But I have to get this damn scene right. With that reminder of our date firmly in my mind, I fly through the scene and hit every mark on the next go around so I can get my omega and get the fuck out of here.

The director nearly collapses with relief and wrap is called for the day. I bound out and around the corner, but as I'm coming up to where Adison is sitting, I see she's not alone anymore. A woman is talking to her. Adison is standing, holding her things. The woman, an omega I realize, has a cloying scent like cotton candy. I despise it filling my lungs when all I want is my omega's scent. Roses. The omega is holding a phone and a stylus. A reporter.

Fuck.

"So, you're The Beauty Pack's new assistant?" she asks.

I glance around. Where is security when you need them?

"I um—" Adison looks uncomfortable. Pretending by omission is one thing, but I've learned something important about my omega. She's going to avoid lying if she can. She's trying to find a solution to do so now.

"Hey!" I bark, and the reporter winces and turns. I choke my alpha down. I don't want to bully an omega, but seeing her cornering my mate puts my alpha on edge. My next words are stern but not a command. "This is a restricted area."

The reporter’s gaze widens, as though suddenly realizing where she is. "Oh, I must have gotten lost," she says, not even trying to sell it before flouncing back toward the barricades. Before she gets too far away she turns. "Funny, I didn't realize that employers scent-mark their assistants."

I growl and she hurries away. I scrub a hand over my face. "So much for keeping you out of the tabloids."