Page 10 of Accidentally Forever

She doesn’t believe me. I can see it in the way she watches me, in the way her lips press together, the way her fingers drum absently against Kolsen’s forearm. Camila doesn’t take bullshit from anyone, least of all me. “Is there anything I can do?” Camila doesn’t say things just to say them—when she offers, she means it. If I asked, she would pull through without hesitation, without complaint.

Shaking my head, I manage a half-smile. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Kolsen finally looks up from his phone, his sharp, assessing gaze flickering between us before settling on me. “Why not just call that Alpha friend of yours?”

I’ve never really spent a lot of time with Camila’s mates but it’s clear she tells them everything. “Because a mated Alpha helping with an unmated Omega’s heat is tricky. I don’t want Sofie pushed into something she can’t get out of. I know that Alpha is a good one but if he lost his control for even a second, Sofie would end up mated without a conversation. It’s too dangerous.”

“And you think he would do that?” Kolsen pushes.

I realize I’m being unreasonable, that I should have at least called Lance to see if he would come regardless of the circumstances. Sofie had asked for him and I told her no. Fuck, I’m an idiot. “No, I just… I’ll figure it out,” I say, flustered. “I’ve gotta go. Early start in the morning.” It’s a bunch of bullshit, the goodbyes brief, and then the call ends.

The second the screen goes dark, the silence in the room feels heavier than before. I slip down under the covers, pulling Sofie against me as she hums into my chest. It takes me a moment to realize she’s purring for me, my beautiful Omega giving me the most precious sound in the world. God, I don’t deserve her.

Chapter six

VIOLET

The gallery is slow today which is great because I slept like shit. My chin rests in my palm, fingers drumming against the counter in a lazy rhythm, my gaze flicking toward Sofie, who’s been quietly reorganizing the small prints near the kiosk. Her movements are steadier today, less hesitant, less fragile. However, her cheeks are flushed pink, her biology threatening to undo us at any minute.

At least with the scent blocker and the heat pills, I’m hoping she can hold on longer. I wanted to leave her at home, told her to have her phone by her if I had to rush back but she wouldn’t have it. Sofie mentioned that staying that far away from me wasn’t going to happen and I caved. Because when it comes to my Omega, I’ll always cave. Even if it’s fucking dangerous having an Omega nearing heat in the middle of an art gallery.

Sofie lets out a little sigh, bringing me back to reality. Exhaustion claims her movements, her body working against her. And yet, she’s still trying to be strong, trying to help, trying to be useful. “Baby, come sit down before you fall over.”

“I’m not going to fall over,” she mutters as she stomps back over to the counter and plops into the seat. I chuckle at the cute pout on her lips, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Fine. I was and I hate it. I’m so tired, Vi. I just want to curl up in a ne—” Sofie catches herself, her lids falling closed as she lets out a little sigh. It’s one of the things she’s never really built. I have no idea why. An Omega like Sofie, I would have thought she would thrive in pillows and blankets and the comfort it brought.

But she hasn’t even tried rearranging the pillows on our bed once. So long as I’m near her, she just curls up in my arms like I can protect her from the entire goddamn world. Well, that and the one raggedy-ass cushion that has seen better days.

“Sofie, it’s okay. We can build one tonight, okay? I’ll make sure to pick up a few more pillows. Maybe some—”

Sofie shakes her head. “No, I’m not sure why I said that. I don’t need a nest. I have you.”

A frustrated sigh falls from my lips as I perch my ass on the edge of the corner and lean over to catch Sofie’s attention. “Baby, you will always have me. That will never change but you don’t have to pick and choose. You can have a nest too. Do you want one?”

Her nose scrunches up and then she shakes her head. “I keep telling myself I should want one but it doesn’t feel right. I just want you. Just you is fine.” She angles her chin up, patiently waiting for a kiss. God, she’s adorable. Gladly, I oblige her, swallowing the little noise she makes before I head into the main part of the gallery. There’s a few patrons wandering around but they’ve been here more times than I can count.

They don’t need my help to explain what’s here and if they choose something, Sofie can check them out. My only job is to be here should someone need information. Or if Xavier throws some asinine task at me again.

The bell above the door chimes but I don’t look up right away. It’s muscle memory at this point, the sound signaling another wide-eyed rich person with too much money to burn or some businessman looking for a statement piece to make himself seem cultured. There’s very few people that walk through that door that truly ever catch my attention and fewer that catch my interest.

Lance is one of those people. Hawk might also be, the way those dark eyes bore into me, dissecting me until I was laid bare for him. However, the presence that steps through the door today is on an entirely different level. It feels like I’ve somehow found a piece of home, the thick scent of sandalwood filling my nose until my entire body is alight with need. It’s nearly as strong as the moments Sofie goes into a heat spike, her scent making me crave things I won’t be able to satisfy.

I slowly turn around to find the source, my gaze landing on the man I’ve told myself I can’t have.Puma.He comes in here nearly as often as Lance does but his purpose seems different. Those silver strands wound through his dark hair, a full beard that makes me wonder what it would feel like grazing along my inner thighs. The dark blue sweater he’s wearing clings to every last muscle beneath it, tattoos peeking out of his collar and the cuffs, covering his hands. A heavy sigh falls from my lips as his pale green eyes move to connect with my brown ones.

A slow grin spreads across his lips as if he’s found the one thing he came for, his approach full of command that most Alphas wish they could harness. He’s a picture of tailored perfection, like he just walked out of a damn magazine and yet, it looks so goddamn effortless.

Sofie lets out a tiny giggle, breaking the tension I hadn’t even realized had wrapped itself around me. She fucking knows exactly how I’m feeling right now and the fact that she’s not affected by Puma just tells me how much shit I’m in. I can’t afford anything that would distract me from caring for Sofie.

I clear my throat and weather a small smile. “Afternoon. Welcome to Ash & Ivory.”

His lips twitch, the ghost of something amused there for just a second before he speaks. "Violet," he says, voice low and rich, sinking into my skin like the perfect drug. "We’ve met." His head tilts as he observes me, my body warming beneath his attention. This is dangerous.

“I know, Puma.” Something twists inside of me, the fantasy of calling this manAlphaswirling around in my head. The idea of moaning it as he…Fuck.“Yes, I remember. Did you come in for something in particular or did you want to just look around? There’s several new paintings.” I’m kind of hoping he doesn’t want to see the new ones. I still feel weird about putting them up yesterday.

Puma’s gaze lingers, drifting over me in a way that tells me he’s feeling the same pull I am. Neither of us addresses it, though as he finally shakes his head. “Just browsing but stay close. I might have some questions.” We both know that’s bullshit. Out of everyone who comes through here, Puma is one of the most educated patrons we have. He’s taughtmemore about the art in here than the little cards next to the frames ever will.

But I’m not going to pass up a chance to walk with him. I glance over at Sofie again to make sure she’s okay, her bright smile and that little wave of her hand giving me the courage to enjoy this for just a little longer.

Puma fits his hands behind him, pulling his sweater just a little tighter across his chest. I try hard not to stare but it’s like every instinct I have is dragging me toward him. And I’m not sure I want to fight it. It’s a good thing I havesomeself-control as he moves in calculated steps through the gallery. He doesn’t just glance at the artwork—he studies it, like he’s looking for something beneath the paint, something hidden between the brushstrokes that no one else has noticed. The way his gaze lingers, assessing, makes the gallery feel smaller, like the walls have pressed in just slightly to accommodate him.

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