Page 2 of Into the Fire: Before

Brea’s degree was what had brought us to Farendale. She was only a semester away from her master’s in psychology and social work, with a concentration in designation counseling. Hers was a specialized niche of study, so the last two years had seen several moves as she completed prereqs and then pursued her degree through Remington State U.

This semester was different, though. It wasn’t just textbooks and exams. This was a four-month working residency, a hybrid model of lectures and counseling in action.

And her orientation started in three hours.

She gave me a weak smile. “You know it’s not too late to pick one of those stable, settled alphas. With careers and charisma.”

I scoffed, wrapping her in my arms and giving her a gentle purr. “Maybe, but they probably wouldn’t find my filing system as charming as you do.”

Brea laughed, her arms raising to wrap back around me. “Fair enough.” She tilted her head, tipping mine with a touch of her index finger to my chin, and kissed me gently. The edge of nervousness dissipated as I glided my fingers through her thick red waves, deepening the kiss until she gave a low growl in the back of her throat.

“I have to go,” she whispered against my lips.

“You have three hours,” I replied.

“It’s over an hour away.”

“Which gives us atleastfifteen good minutes before you’ll only be ridiculously early instead of obscenely early.”

As I said the words, as I willed her to back me toward the bed just feet away, I knew it was a no-go. Brea was always early, even when she wasn’t going out of her mind with nerves.

What if I get lost?

What if the bus runs out of gas?

What if there are protests that shut down the highway?

What if a bridge collapses and we have to reroute?

All very real, unironic questions posed whenever I’d suggested before that she could relax her scheduling tendencies just a touch.

She swallowed, and her scent soured more. Couldn’t have that. Even if she did look too good to be real in her blue satin blouse, black skirt, and black heels, loose red waves smooth and flowing over her shoulders.

I gave her bottom lip one final drag between my teeth before backing away. “Ugh. Fine. You owe me.”

Brea grinned, leaning in to my neck and drawing in a deep breath like she was taking a hit of hookah. “Come collecting tonight, then, Teacup.”

“With interest,” I said with a smirk.

She pulled away, and I followed her toward the door. She grabbed her purse from the counter, as well as her black leather folio with her notebooks and necessary papers.

Just as she turned the knob to leave, I grabbed her free hand. I waited until she turned to look back at me. My smile was genuine, filled with every bit of belief I had in her, and that was no small bit either. “No one is better equipped to do this job than you,” I said. I brought her hand up, kissing the back, before letting it drop. “You got this.”

Her gaze was loving, her smile grateful. She gave only a single nod before turning and striding through the door with all the confidence an alpha like her deserved to feel.

Twohoursandtwoboxes later yielded no better results than my morning search. Then my own phone alarm chirped, and the mining expedition came to a pause as I dressed for work.

Just as I zipped up my favorite pair of jeans, a sturdy knock sounded at the door.

I stilled, staring at the offending slab of wood. We’d had to be somewhat careful over the years. The world was largely safe, but attracting unwanted attention wasn’t out of the norm for an omega, especially when paired with a female alpha.

We didn’t know anyone in Farendale, and our entry door was interior to the apartment building, so random solicitors seemed unlikely. But it was broad daylight, for fuck’s sake. And I knew the neighbors were home and would hear me if I screamed. Giving myself a good shake, I kicked my (okay, fine, ambiguously labeled) box out of the way and made for the door.

I didn’t know who I expected to be standing there, but it sure as hell wasn’t another alpha—a male alpha with dark hair falling nearly to his shoulders and just enough steel in those gray eyes to make a girl sigh.

Straightening up to my full height—a whopping five-foot-four—I put on my best pleasantries voice. “Can I help you?”

Thick dark brows gave a slight twitch as he took me in, eyes scoping up and down in a flash before he cleared his throat. “Brea Maddox?”

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