Page 102 of Altius
Pulling out my phone, I opened the photo album dedicated to Liv and Cece. Handing it over, Alijah raved about their cuteness, asking questions about their parents, preferences, favorite activities, and so on.
Turning to Joaquin, I asked, “Do your sisters have kids?”
“Not yet. One’s been dating a pack for a few months, but it’s not serious. The other two are focused on their careers. Butthey’ll get around to it eventually.” He looked at me for a long moment. “You like kids?”
I nodded. “Yeah. That’s why I wanted to do my residency at the children’s hospital.” Deciding it was better to be honest, I added, “But I don’t want any of my own.”
“We’ve talked about fostering—but way down the line.”
“That’s a lovely idea. You guys would be fun dads.”
Excellent uncles, too, not that my nieces needed any more.
Alijah held out my phone, and as I turned to accept it, I caught a hint of relief in his expression.
I wasn’t sure what unspoken test I’d just passed, but I didn’t want him to envision me in their plans for the future.
Alijah didn’t understand. I was too much of a risk, even without the threat of potential waning syndrome hanging over my already damaged head.
But as usual, this was neither the time nor the place for a heart-to-heart with Alijah.
Ignoring the tinge of regret scraping against my tired eyes, I pretended to read the program until the curtain went up.
***
“Morgan,” Joaquin rasped in my ear as if we were still in my nest, lost in each other. “She’s on.”
I bolted upright in my seat.
Oh no. I’d fallen asleep again. Only this time, I’d used Joaquin’s shoulder as a pillow.
Fantastic. No mixed signals there.
Trying to hide my embarrassment, I stared at the stage, watching as Piper was lifted into the air, wearing an elaborate pink costume with a bejeweled tutu.
This was her second year performing as the Sugar Plum Fairy. With her elegant lines and regal grace, she was perfectly suited to the part.
Joaquin slid his arm across the back of my chair to rub Alijah’s neck.
He leaned in and whispered, “He was telling the truth. About mistaking Piper for you. We were sitting here, just like this, when he got all flustered. It had nothing to do with her dancing. He was thinking about the lines of your face and your amazing legs. Plus, that ass—”
“Whatareyou doing?” I demanded in a biting whisper.
“Making you understand.” His hot breath brushed against the shell of my ear. “I’m a picky bastard. I knew Alijah was a diamond in the rough as soon as I saw him, and only I could make him shine—and haven’t I done a marvelous job?”
The arm draped across my shoulders grew heavier, almost possessive. “You think I’d trust my treasure with just anyone?”
“You don’t… You know, what, no. We’re not doing this,” I said, returning my attention to Piper as she completed a graceful turn.
“Oh,” he mouthed against my hair, nose skimming my temple, “but we are. I don’t care if you want to work with Owen or not. This is separate. Our own thing. And we’re going to keep doing it, over lunches, in the elevator, on the gray chaise, wherever’s necessary, until you’re willing to admit that you want us for more than sex. The same way we want you.”
“Good luck with that,” I said, internally cringing at how lame I sounded.
“Likewise, doc.” Joaquin poured a knowing laugh into my ear and then withdrew, running his calloused fingers along the back of my neck as he returned both hands to his lap, tapping his thigh in time with the music.
I focused on breathing in and out, in and out, my unseeing eyes fixed on the stage, clapping when the rest of the audience clapped, absorbing the familiar music without hearing the melody, until my heart stopped racing.
Alphas told lies, making false promises about shared experiences—that never lived up to the hype—while obscuring their real goal of getting what they wanted from me.
