Page 13 of Alpha's Embrace
My cock gave a single throb as a tremor of warmth slipped through my abdomen.
A bonded Alpha might have responded the same, but his link to his Omega would have made him want to go home and have a nice time. I didn’t have the luxury.
I would need to keep myself under firm control at all times around Misha. The tingles in my blood proved to me, even during my Burns, that my old partial bond with Mase was long gone, though I too often fantasized that some day he would return. I knew it was impossible, but my dreams remained.
In this case, my body responded to Misha. It was interesting to me that with Cedric, and the few others here who had made it to puberty, I had felt nothing. I had morals, of course, about underage leanings, and never experienced those leanings myself.
Sylphs in puberty gave off strong pheromones. Their age didn’t matter. Those chemicals laced the air around them. The pheromones had Omega attributes but Alpha power, for the chemicals were pushed through their cells and skin by the constant Burn. It never ended for them. None of them could ever have been raised in normal families and households.
Still, I had felt nothing with them. But Misha was different.
As I tamped back my physical response to the beautiful man before me, I said, “Can you think of where you might like to start? For example, we can increase your exercise time.”
“Yes. That would be very nice,” he said. “I only have one hour a day right now. I do love the fresh air and sunlight.”
His voice resonated through me, and caused another throb throughout my whole body. The accumulation of minutes in his presence caused a weird, sort of almost breakdown within me. As if my body were soaking up and storing his seductive air seeping through my careful barriers. I knew I needed to leave soon.
“Good. We’ll start with twice a day, once a morning and once an afternoon.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. May I also make a request?”
“Of course. And you can call me by my first name. Geo.”
“Geo.”
When he said my name, I wasn’t prepared for the pleasant shiver that ran all over my skin. My nipples hardened under my shirt.
His lips opened for a breath. “May I see you again?” he asked.
He blinked. His eyelashes caught the hard light coming through his small, barred window. He was like a puppy with a longing gaze. For a dog, that look meant “pick me up” and “hold me.” But for a man like Misha? I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t dare touch him even if I wanted only to comfort him.
I shouldn’t have said yes to his request. I shouldn’t have agreed to more meetings. He needed to be seen and cared for by bonded Alphas. He deserved more of a life, but he could not be out in public ever. It pained me to think that his rehab would be limited, for he was smart and sane and didn’t deserve his plight.
So I said it. The one word I, as chief of staff, should have had more control over.
“Yes. I will visit again.”
“Thank you.” He looked so mild, his words completely polite and unassuming. Yet they held a power in them, just those two words, as if I had granted him the world and all the love it could hold.
It was very difficult for me to get up, to say goodbye, to walk out of that room and leave him standing there in that garish light, the door closing and locking behind me with a loud clunk. It was as if I were leaving something precious and innocent behind, something that needed me. Needed air and light and life and love.
All that I could not give him. Not in the ways he should have them.
Nurse Prado was waiting for me as I came into the hall, but as I glanced about I saw Tory had left.
“Tory said he had work to do,” said Prado, noticing my gaze.
I sighed. Tory had come with me to many of my briefings of the patients, but he often complained. Several times I’d left him behind in the office to work. But I had wanted his views and feedback and had not thought it too much to ask him to accompany me as my assistant.
Misha had been the last on my list of patients to see for the day and I headed back to my office to file my reports and issue directives regarding Misha’s case.
On my way past the nurse’s station, Prado said, “Sir. I should also tell you that you should not have offered to shake his hand. It was a good thing he was cuffed. You weren’t wearing any gloves!”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.”
“It’s protocol because of the pheromones secreted on their skin.”
“I’ll try to remember,” I said as I walked toward the elevators. I didn’t intend to touch Misha, but Prado didn’t know that. The pheromones in the air were the true danger, and why only bonded staff was hired.
