Page 63 of Altius
As I opened the passenger door for her, I bent down, sucking in a lungful of her heady orchid scent, laced with that fascinating rusty undertone. I liked my things to be less than pristine. Who knew it extended to my desired partner’s scent, too?
“But it could beourthing, doc. You. Me. Chaos and sweat.”
Morgan paused, feet firmly on the ground once more. “You’re being rather forward tonight.”
“Getting tired of waiting.” I decided not to push my luck and headed to the driver’s side, where I started the engine, keeping the chill at bay while we buckled in. “And I’m not about to let Owen ruin everything before I get a chance to shoot my shot, you know?”
“No,” she said flatly, “I don’t. And he didn’t ruin everything. It was a misunderstanding on my part.”
I laughed, shifting the truck into reverse. “Oh, doc. Don’t make excuses for him. Owen’s got assholes for ears most of thetime. Trust me, I know. We’ve lived together since our first year of college.”
After easing onto the street, I drove toward the restaurant Alijah had picked for dinner, a swanky gastropub near the children’s hospital, just a little off his usual route home.
“All he had to do was use that big brain of his. Ask you a clarifying question—just one—and he would have understood why you approached him.”
“I should have followed protocol and waited for the response to come through my designation counselor.”
“Morgan.” My hand settled on her thigh. She tensed at the contact, breath hitching, tongue brushing over her lower lip as she stared at the spider lily tattoo covering her leg. “You know what our answer is. Or you wouldn’t have asked.”
Her eyes skewed in my direction. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. You know that Owen pissed everyone off today, right?” My thumb trailed along the smooth fibers of her dress pants. “Cal wants everything about your heat to be perfect, and Wyatt will probably tear the arms off anyone who gets between the two of you, including his brother. As for my darling babe…”
Squeezing her leg, I couldn’t help but tease. “He wants to touch you. And feed you.”
“I don’t need—”
“Yes, you do. If your behavior after your seizure is any indication, you’re going to be a bear to deal with during your heat. We’ll probably have to sedate you to get a smoothie down the hatch.”
Morgan glared at me over the rims of her glasses. “It’s different during heats.”
“Nah, you just think it is because of haze goggles.”
“Whatever you say.” Shifting closer to the door, taking the tempting fullness of her thighs with her, Morgan was content to ignore me.
But I wasn’t about to let her.
“You know the deal with Clarice Redmond, right?”
She nodded. “Most of it, but not everything.”
Good, that would make this easier. I had no desire to recount all the batshit notions of Owen and Wyatt’s mother, who seemed determined to turn every negative stereotype about female alphas into reality.
“How much do you know?” I asked.
Morgan shifted in her seat. “Wyatt told me that she always has a new boyfriend, and they never last long. She just wants them for sex and money. Oh, and I know that she kept Owen and Wyatt a secret from their fathers.”
“Yup. She had a years-long affair with a mated alpha. That was Owen’s dad. And Wyatt’s was an omega ‘friend’ she helped through his heat. Didn’t tell either of them when she got pregnant. But when things got tight financially, she sued them both for child support and turned their lives into legal hell. Both ultimately surrendered their parental rights, because she made it impossible to co-parent with their packs. Who knows what happened to the money.”
“I didn’t know about that.” Morgan’s expression turned sour. “Wyatt always talked about how demanding she was, always moving the goalposts for acceptable behavior. That he was too clumsy, too short, not alpha enough.”
“Nothing was ever good enough for Clarice,” I said with a grim chuckle. “Not their tidy rooms, Owen’s perfect grade point average, or full marks on his standardized college admittance tests. None of their respective awards, or anything they’ve accomplished professionally.” I paused, not sure if it was my place to divulge this next bit of disgraceful parenting. “Did you know she told Wyatt that his Olympic medals were disappointing?”
Morgan looked at me in shock. “What? He won a team bronze and an individual silver on the horizontal bar! How could she say something like that?”
“Because she’s a bitch.”
“But Wyatt was amazing at his peak, a true world-class athlete.”
