Page 29 of Forbidden Taste
Wilson steps inside, his wiry frame moving with that quiet grace he’s always had, his hands slipping into his pockets as he stops a few feet away. “You’ve been here for three years, Mr. Hart and not once have I watched you play like that.”
I lower the violin, resting it against my thigh, my fingers flexing around the bow. “Play like what?”
He tilts his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips, softening the lines etched into his weathered face. “Play with your heart,” he says. “Whatever happened yesterday, from when I last saw you, is exactly what you needed, Mr. Hart. You’ve found your spark. Don’t lose it.”
“Thanks,” I manage, my voice cracking, and I set the violin back in its case, my hands trembling as I wipe my face, the tears drying on my skin.
“Keep playing like that,” Wilson tells me, pausing with his hand on the knob, his eyes glinting with something like pride. “It’s what you’re meant for.”
twenty
LEO
I sit at the back of the art history lecture, my pencil tapping against the desk, the professor’s voice a dull hum I can’t latch onto. My mind’s a mess, snagged on this new designation that I didn’t even think was a possibility. I filed the medical paperwork this morning, the nurse staring at me for several long seconds, her eyes wide behind her glasses, before she scurried off down to the administration wing with my forms clutched in her hands.
I should’ve felt relief, but it just tightened the knot in my chest because there’s now yet another label I don’t know how to wear yet. Eugene’s been buzzing around all morning, his nasally voice grating as he rambles about some project, and I’ve barely heard him, my head buried in my phone, scrolling through patchy articles about Zetas—half science, half speculation, none of it clear enough to settle me.
Calling home was my next plan, asking my dads about Uncle Bear, but that doesn’t feel like a phone conversation. So, I shove it down, trying not to get lost in all of the chaos. My eyes dart to the clock, the red numbers ticking down to lunch—ten minutes, eight, six—counting the seconds until I can find Riley as I focus on his calm through the bond, the only thing that’s kept me steady since this morning.
What little I have garnered from all those articles told me that everything I’m feeling is normal after claiming a mate but I hate it, hate feeling this anxious, this untethered, like I’m fraying at the edges. Because once again, Riley isn’t the only one I’m thinking about. That needy part of me keeps flip flopping between fantasies of Riley or Hawk beneath me, sometimes putting Hawkoverme, a thought that I’ve come to dwell on way faster than I thought was possible.
I’m hard and achy, heat bristling beneath my skin, my only saving grace is the scent blocker Octavia prescribed. Unable to sit still any longer, I mutter an excuse to the professor—bathroom, probably, I don’t even know—and grab my bag, slipping out the door before anyone can question it, immediately looking for a place to disappear.
The whispers follow me, slightly different accusations than yesterday but they’re softer, less certain, more confusion. I don’t care, not really, just need to get away, need air, need Riley. I turn down another hall, the architecture wing fading behind me, and the sound shifts, upbeat music pulsing from the practice rooms ahead.
Several students are gliding across the floor, tights and tutus and elegant dresses full of rich colors stare at me through the large windows. It’s pure elegance in motion as they mold themselves to the beat but I keep moving, following the familiar musky vanillascent drawing me in. And that’s where I find Hawk, alone, moving through the space with that dancer’s grace—lean and fluid, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he stretches, his shirt clinging to his frame.
It makes sense now why I was slowly coming into my Omega instincts even before Riley. I’ve been down this hallway dozens of times, passing these rooms, catching that musky vanilla in the air—muted then, a whisper I liked but didn’t linger on. It didn’t do much, didn’t pull at me, not until now.
I press against the glass, my breath fogging it in shallow bursts, watching Hawk move across the practice room floor—just like I used to watch Riley, hours lost outside his door, caught in his music. Hawk’s different, though—weightless, graceful for an Alpha, all lean muscle and soft edges despite how hard he fucked Riley last night, his body cutting through the space with a precision that steals my air. The upbeat music pulses in fast and sharp bursts, nothing like Riley’s soaring strings but I can’t stop watching, my eyes tracing the line of his legs, the flex of his arms, the way his eyes seem to hold the very weight of the music.
I’m not sure what gives me the confidence but I don’t want to stay in the hallway so I push inside, careful to stay quiet, to allow Hawk to continue expressing himself in one of the most beautiful ways I’ve ever seen. It’s different from Riley’s—less tender, more action, invoking a heat I didn’t expect. Hawk’s eyes are closed, I realize now, his body moving to the melody purely out of memory and feeling, every step a dance he knows by heart.
I don’t notice I’m in the middle of the room until the song tapers to an end, a soft fade that leaves silence in its wake. Hawk pulls up short, stopping inches from me, his chest rising and falling, his last step landing like he planned it—like he knew I’d be here.
He opens his eyes, focusing on me a faint surprise flickering across his face. “Finding you here standing in front of me wasn’t something I imagined,” he purrs. “Are you feeling okay?” An Alpha asking if I’m alright, the gesture throws me for a loop, and I frown, no idea how to answer.
“Is Riley okay?” Hawk adds, tilting his head, searching my expression. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” I say, the truth spilling out before I can stop it. “I just… it wasn’t on purpose.” My instincts are confusing, screaming at me for things I thought I shouldn’t want and now know that it’s just natural. Part of me wants to shove him against the wall, sink into his ass, claim him with every thrust. The other part wants to present, to bare my neck, let him take me. A whine sits at the back of my throat, slick wetting my hole as I step back, my nose flaring, pulling in more of that musky vanilla scent which only proves to make the matter worse.
Hawk’s shoulders fall, a soft exhale escaping him as he steps closer. “Why do you seem so new at this?”
“Because I am,” I push out, panic clawing at my chest. I’m freaking out, unsure if I should bolt, my legs tensing to run, but then Hawk moves, closing the gap, his hand pressing to my chest. His purr starts up in response, my entire body relaxing, tension melting away as I let out a little sigh, my shoulders slumping.
“Riley mentioned having a conversation,” Hawk says, his hand still on me, his purr steadying my racing pulse, “but I think it might be something better to have sooner than later?” His dark eyes hold mine, waiting until I give him a shaky nod, the panic easing under his touch.
Hawk heads toward his backpack, pulling out his phone to text someone. Moments of silence stretch, his fingers tapping the screen,and then he looks up, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Riley says he’ll meet us at the café. That okay? I didn’t think you’d want to be in the cafeteria.”
“Yeah.” It never really occurred to me that Hawk would care, that he would see me as anything more than Riley’s. Sure, I understand the biology of it but I’m so used to Alphas trying to force me to submit or dismissing me altogether that everything is just more confusing.
Hawk comes back over to me, placing a soft hand on my arm. “You doing alright? I know everything is a bit chaotic at the moment but you okay?”
I search myself for a moment, a mixture of Riley’s calm and excitement rushing through the bond. Paired with Hawk’s presence here, I realize that I am okay. It could be worse but in this moment, I’m okay. “Yeah, I think I am.”
He squeezes my arm affectionately before returning to his pack, stuffing items into it. The silence of the room is almost haunting compared to his performance and I can’t help but ask the lingering question.
“You dance like that all the time?”
