Page 44 of A Promise of Forever
Forrest cups my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks, his purr rumbling through me. “You won’t lose it, little dove. You’re mine, remember?” Tears cloud my vision, Forrest’s gaze darting across my face. “Hey, what’s that? Sterling, what can I do?”
I know it’s selfish, that some part of me wants this because Wilson is still out there, a shadow looming over my newfound safety. But every other part of me wants it too, wants Forrest, wants this life. I place my hands on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart against my palm. “What if I want to be yours forever?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Forrest tenses, just for a moment, and dread coils in my gut. Did I say something wrong? Did he not mean it? But then he catches himself, Forrest’s eyes locking on mine. “Sterling, you’d want to be mine forever?” he asks, an edge of disbelief to his words. “Even with everything you’ve seen? Even…”
“I want to.” I run my fingers along the edge of his jaw, loving the way he shudders beneath my touch. His lids flutter closed fora second before opening again, the intensity of his gaze still fixed on me. “I want to feel you and love you and wake up beside you. I don’t want to be scared anymore.”
His face breaks into a smile. “I want all those same things for you, sweetheart. You tell me when, and I’m there.”
I almost say right now, the words on the tip of my tongue, but I stop myself. I’m not ready. Not yet. It wouldn’t mean what it needs to, not with Wilson still out there and demanding my return. Forrest seems to sense it, his smile softening as he kisses me again. “Whenever you’re ready, Sterling,” he murmurs. “Whenever.”
Forrest
After returning to the cottage, Sterling passed out almost immediately, his body exhausted from his impending heat. He's curled up against my thigh now, the Omega completely trusting me with his safety. I thought about returning to the main house to handle the mountain of work waiting for me, but I can't bring myself to leave him. The need to stay close overrides every practical consideration.
Everything my father did truly is making more sense. As he slowly moved away from the main activities of the business, hespent more time out here with my Omega father than in the main house. It was their sanctuary and now it’s going to be ours.
I run my hand through Sterling’s curls before refocusing my attention on my laptop. I've been trying for the past hour to find a legal way around Wilson's increasingly loud protests regarding his claim over Sterling. The cop has been making his case to anyone who will listen, showing up at establishments throughout the city and claiming that I stole an Omega from him in some kind of twisted power play. People are starting to talk, asking questions about where Sterling came from and whether I'm holding him against his will.
The problem is that from everything we've been able to find, Wilson has no legal claim over Sterling. They were never formally mated, never married, and Sterling doesn't carry Wilson's bite. By every legal standard that matters, Sterling is a free agent who can choose his own protection and pack.
But society doesn’t see Omegas that way and Wilson's power within the police department is giving him leverage that pure legality can't counter. He's using his badge and connections to paint himself as a concerned authority figure trying to rescue an Omega from a dangerous criminal. The narrative is persuasive to people who don't know the truth, who see a cop versus a Valla and automatically assume the cop must be the good guy.
And then there's the Thatcher problem complicating everything. Some faceless drug kingpin pushing substances around the city, always one step ahead of our attempts to identify him. The connection between Wilson and the drug trade feels significant, but we haven't been able to prove anything concrete yet.
A message pops up on the side of the screen, an email from someone onThe Forgestaff.
Mr. King,
I was told to reach out to you when I had more information about the Omega from that night. Her name is Rose and physically, she’s doing well. They kept her for a few days to monitor any lingering symptoms. She’s now returned to where she was staying and has accepted the help of Forge’s lawyers to sue Alistair.
Good.
I was worried there wouldn't be a more favorable outcome amidst all of the other bullshit.
But that knowledge doesn't make me feel much better. Something in my gut tells me that any moment now, Wilson is going to try something different. He's been too quiet over the past day, which means he's planning rather than just reacting.
My phone vibrates with an incoming call from Caelan, the timing a bit strange. I try to slip out from under Sterling carefully, not wanting to wake him, but he shifts closer in his sleep and makes a small sound of protest at my movement.
I lean down to kiss his forehead, breathing in his sweet scent and committing the moment to memory. “I'm not going far, little dove.”
Then I slip from the bed as gently as possible and walk outside into the late afternoon air.
The brisk temperature hits my bare chest immediately, but I welcome the discomfort as a distraction from my growing anxiety.
"Couldn't handle the business during lunch? What needs my attention so urgently?" I ask, pushing some amusement into my voice so my brother knows I'm not mad at him.
Unfortunately, Caelan's tone shifts the mood to something more serious. "As much as I want to joke around right now, I need you to brace yourself. Are you with Sterling?"
The question sends alarm bells ringing through my system. "I'm standing outside the cottage. Why?"
"Good." Caelan takes a breath like he's preparing to deliver terrible news. "Wilson has somehow convinced a judge to issue a summons requiring you to bring Sterling in to be checked. They want to verify that he's not being held against his will and that he doesn't currently carry anyone's bite. It's essentially a wellness check with legal teeth behind it."
A horrid growl tears from my throat before I can stop it. I punch the side of the cottage hard enough that pain explodes across my knuckles, but the physical sensation does nothing to ease the rage flooding my system.
"Great reaction," Caelan says dryly. "And it gets better. They want you there in an hour."
"What the fuck?" The words come out as a snarl. "An hour? That's not enough time to prepare anything, to get legal representation, to even explain to Sterling what's happening."
