Page 35 of Rescued By My Reluctant Alphas
I followed her to the break room, not because I didn’t trust her to actually eat, but because I couldn’t seem to stay away from her. Some instinct that went deeper than training, deeper than logic, insisted I needed to be where she was.
The break room was empty, which was a mercy. Sable didn’t need more people watching her, judging her, noticing that her suppressants were failing and her scent was calling to every alpha in range.
I found the thermos Beau had mentioned and poured soup into a mug. Chicken and vegetables, simple and nourishing. I handed it to her and watched her take the first sip.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Those two words landed harder than they should have. Gratitude from Sable felt earned, felt significant.
“You’re welcome.”
She ate in silence, and I gave her space but stayed close enough that my presence was a barrier between her and the door. If anyone came looking for her, they’d have to go through me first.
“This is weird,” she said after a minute.
“What is?”
“This. You. All three of you.” She set the mug down and looked at me directly. “Six weeks ago, I didn’t know any of you. Now you’re bringing me soup and coordinating via group text and I’m letting you. That’s weird.”
“Weird bad or weird different?”
She considered that. “Different. I think. Maybe.” She ran a hand through her short curls, frustrated. “I don’t know. I don’t usually let people do things for me. I handle my own problems, manage my own needs. But you three just keep showing up and somehow I keep letting you and I don’t know what that means.”
“It means you’re not as isolated as you’ve been trying to be,” I said. “It means maybe you’re ready to let someone care about you.”
“I’m not ready.”
“But you’re considering it.”
She didn’t deny it, which was significant. Sable wasn’t someone who left things ambiguous. If she didn’t want something, she said so clearly.
“My suppressants are failing,” she said abruptly. “I know you’ve noticed. All three of you. Every alpha in this building has probably noticed.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t concern you?”
“Should it?”
She gave me an exasperated look. “Dane. I’m an omega whose suppressants are failing in a building full of emergency responders during a high-stress situation. That’s textbook dangerous.”
“You’re safe here.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’m here.” I moved slightly closer, not crowding her but making my presence clear. “Because Beau and Silas are watching too, even from Creek Hollow. Because every person in this building respects you and knows that anyone who doesn’t would answer to us.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “That’s very alpha of you.”
“I’m very aware.”
“It should bother me. That possessive claim. That assumption that you have any right to protect me or make declarations about my safety.”
“But it doesn’t.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “No,” she finally admitted. “It doesn’t. And that’s what scares me.”
I understood that fear. Had felt it myself every time I thought about what it would mean to let myself want her. To acknowledge that the careful distance I’d been maintaining was a lie I told myself to stay safe.
