Page 28 of Alpha's Embrace
“Your Grace.” I bowed to him. “I came to visit. I hope that is allowed?”
He did not answer yes right away, which caused a slice of pain through my chest. But I forced myself to stand and breathe, stand and breathe.
“Misha. Of course.” He paused, looking momentarily uncomfortable.
I read everything into that pause: want, guilt, pain, compassion, shame, fascination. I wasn’t psychic. I was simply used to all the reactions both Alphas and Omegas had toward me.
But this Alpha, King Geo, caused all the same responses in me. That was the unusual part. With Geo I experienced everything at once. The shame and guilt came only because I could see in his eyes a respectful nervousness now, and I didn’t like it. I wanted him to be all right with me. I wanted him to like me as he had seemed to during our first meeting, and never have to be on guard.
It couldn’t happen. What I wanted and what was reality were two different things. I didn’t kid myself. I wasn’t a prince and he wasn’t a king. I wanted him and he wanted me. But I was taboo for him.
I knew these facts. I never wanted to hurt another, or be a burden. I worried often about the position I put others in because I wasn’t normal. Yet still, here I was.
Geo stood in his doorway a moment too long before saying, “Would you like to come in?”
“Yes.”
I forced myself not to hurry forward. My robe brushed along the hard, beige carpet of the outside office as I strode toward him.
He turned aside and ushered me in. Out the corner of my eye I saw him gesture to my guards to wait outside.
I glanced around the fine room. The wall that faced his big window reflected light with its white coat of paint. The other walls comforted the air in a soft yellowy-beige. His desk was huge and made of the prettiest, honey-colored wood. On it he had two computer screens, a keyboard, and various items like pens and notepaper, a purple ball the size of my fist that looked like real amethyst, and a white coffee cup with a picture of a snoozing cartoon bear on it.
His desk chair was dark blue and had a large, cushioned back. In front of his desk sat two plush chairs, also blue.
“You have a beautiful space,” I exclaimed.
“Thank you.” Stiff. Formal.
He started to shut the door, but before I heard the clasp catch, he stopped it and left it open about half an inch. He pretended nonchalance, but I could see his every move was checked and careful.
I didn’t like it one bit. I wanted to return to that feeling I’d had in the tub when his hands had caressed me without a plan, when he had taken care of me through instinct and not logic, not because he was forced.
“Are you enjoying your newfound freedoms?” he asked.
So formal, again. Like a king.
“Yes.” I ran my hand along the back of one of the plush chairs. “I missed you.”
He frowned and approached his desk, moving around it to his chair. “You did?”
“I thought you might visit me again. I had hoped.” My body fought me. My Burn wanted me to touch him. It took all my strength to hold back.
“I have been very busy lately.” Voice dry, hoarse.
“I understand. You have important work.” I offered my best smile.
He gestured to one of his chairs. “Would you like to sit? Would you like coffee?”
Before I had a chance to answer, he went to a small table against one wall where I saw a coffee pot. He poured some of the dark, steaming liquid into a white cup and turned halfway in profile.
“Do you take cream and sugar?”
“I probably do, though I’ve never had coffee before.”
Now looking at me straight on, his left eyebrow rose. “No?”
“They don’t give us coffee, or any other stimulants for our meals. Water, juice. Nothing hot, though I’ve always wanted to try.”
