Page 101 of Abel's Omega
“I don’t want to command you.”
“I know.” I smiled at him. “And that’s why you can.” I reached up to touch his lips. “I want to please you. I want to help you. I want to see you have success, because it makes you happy, which makes me happy.”
“Is this really you, what you’re saying?”
I shook my head and moved away. “You can’t separate the omega from the man, because they’re both who I am. Parts of me are very omega, parts of me aren’t. But I’m still me.”
“Yes you are,” he said, and his voice had taken on that deep timbre that reminded me fiercely of late nights and early mornings in our bedroom in Mercy Hills. When I met his gaze again, his eyes had filled with a heat that melted me into puddle.
“Do we have to go out for supper?”
He laughed, and the fire banked itself, though I could still see it smoldering away in the background. “We might as well. Do you think the pups will go to sleep right now?”
“Dammit.” I frowned down at the suitcases.
“Look in mine. There’s a present there for you. I’ll get the pups’ pajamas set out. Mac’s going to get pizza for everyone while we get ready.” He bent to kiss my cheek. “I love all the parts of you. I just worry that sometimes you say yes because that’s what you think omegas are supposed to do.”
“Trust me,” I said dryly. “If I really don’t want to, I’ll let you know. I think I was standing in the wrong line when they were handing out the obedience.”
He laughed and gave me a quick hug on his way out the door. “Good. I like having a mate who keeps me in line.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
Abel handed me into a chair at a small table, tucked away in a quiet corner of the hotel’s restaurant. It was beautiful and elegant and I was wearing the shirt he’d had made for me, a bright emerald green with a pattern of leaves embroidered around the wrists and the neckline. At the base of my throat glistened his other present, a heavy gold collar with a square-cut emerald dangling from it. Abel himself looked incredible in a dark gray suit and crisp white shirt, his beard neatly trimmed—I’d made him sit still for that—and brand new tabs on his collar shining almost like jewelry instead of oppression.
The gentleman who seemed to be assigning tables had started in surprise when we’d come through the door, but he recovered well and he escorted us to this wonderfully private table without a second glance. More reassuringly, he ignore the dirty looks we got from a couple of tables when they noticed the tabs on our collars.
The host handed us menus and asked if we wanted to see the wine list.
I’d never drunk wine, so I looked to Abel to decide.
“Something not too dry,” he said once he’d intercepted my glance. “White, maybe?”
I shrugged.Don’t ask me.
The human left and then we were alone with our menus. They were just like they were described in A Billionaire’s Promise, thick, soft covers, with heavy cream paper and black fancy text. I chewed my cheek and read the description of each dish.
“Don’t look at the prices,” Abel told me sternly. “You’ve earned this. If it wasn’t for curfew, I’d take you dancing too.”
Oh, I’d love to try dancing at a human club, just once, to say I had. They sounded amazing in all the books. “That’s okay.” I looked up from the menu and glanced around contentedly. “This is a dream come true.”
He smiled. “They have steak. The filet has bacon wrapped around it. I’m told it’s good.”
“Hmmmm.” That was tempting. There seemed to be a lot of garlic in many of the other dishes, in sauces, or used as seasoning. If we had a hotel bedroom to ourselves, I didn’t want to be all garlicky. “You’re right. I think I’ll try that.” Baby kicked, so I guess he or she wanted it too.
I laid my menu aside, and Abel set his on top of it. “I’ll do the same. Been a while since I’ve had real steak.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”
“If these projects make money, we should all be able to eat steak more often.”
“That’s a goal I’m sure the pack could agree on.”
He laughed and reached across the table for me, taking my hand.
A different young man approached the table, carrying a glass of white wine in each hand. He set one in front of each of us, then stood back and smiled. “Good evening. I’m Dale and I’ll be your server tonight. Have you made a decision?”
“We’ll both have the filet,” Abel told him, handing back the menus. “Thank you.”
