Page 6 of Omega Chattel
The car was jet black, looked new, and some make and model I knew little about but could see right away was expensive. When the Alpha opened the passenger door and ushered me in, the new leather and fresh scent of window wash hit me hard. I breathed in. After the smell on the streets, acrid and dusty and rotting, my lungs heaved in gulps of oxygen untainted by Old Town fumes and toxins.
The Alpha pulled his car out of the garage with a little squeal, though he wasn’t going fast. The floor was shiny and smooth, and the car was probably brand new. The entry was gated, but the arm lifted for him as if it recognized him, no problem.
For five minutes we drove. He took a freeway that I thought looked like it might lead back to Zilly’s Omega Farm. A needle-like pain stabbed my chest as I pictured all this as a trap and him taking me back there and leaving me.
“Where are we going?”
He pulled off the freeway and I saw the bright sign of a diner. “Here.”
My breath came a little fast in relief. Not a trap.
I heard the locks click as the engine turned off, and tried my door. It opened easily.
As the Alpha came around the front of the car, I noted again how big he was, how his pale blue eyes glinted under the parking lights beneath a fall of dark hair that curved over his left eyebrow and mixed perfectly with the rest of his glossy hair. His body was lean-waisted, but I could see muscles pulling at his sleeves and at the thighs of his jeans.
Something stirred inside me. The way he smelled—everything—it was almost annoying. Because maybe I wanted him, but didn’t want to want him beyond what I could get right now. A meal. A bed. Maybe some cash.
He led the way to the diner’s entrance and I had to hurry to catch up.
“Hey, you never told me your name.”
“No,” he replied.
I let out a flustered groan.
He turned. “You going to behave?”
My stomach growled. I growled, “Whatever you want.”
The restaurant had farm décor all over the walls and counters, and I was so not impressed for my first time entering a diner. Little trellises covered with fake vines, tiny shovels with ribbons on the ends, wooden cutouts of pastel painted chickens and pigs. The booths were baby pink and blue. It was the last place I thought this Alpha would want to be.
But when we were seated, he said, “The burgers here are the best I’ve ever had.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“And my name is Tarin.”
“Oh, um.” I hated that I could think of no words to respond.Tarin. I liked how the name rippled in my mind.
The waiter handed us square plastic sheets the size of a large book that folded open with lists of food items, some accompanied by pictures. I studied my sheet wondering what it meant. I’d never been in a place like this before. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Starting at the top, I began to read every word so this Alpha wouldn’t think I was stupid as well as pathetic.
As the waiter brought water, Tarin said, “We’re ready to order.” He looked at me over his menu.
“Uh, uh--” I’d barely gotten through reading the third item offered, which was still under a heading calledAppetizers.
“You are helpless, aren’t you?” Tarin said, picking up my menu.
“I’ve never been outside like this.”
“I see that.” He handed my menu to the waiter and for a moment I thought I’d missed my chance and wouldn’t get any food.
Instead, he ordered for me. “He’ll have a bacon cheeseburger, chili fries, and large lemon-lime soda.”
My eyes widened.
“What?” he asked. “You don’t like that?”
My stomach growled. I shook my head. “No. It’s fine.” The funny thing was, it’s what I would have ordered for myself if I’d known how to do it.
