Page 9 of The Mating Game
“An omega?”
Her cheeks go bright pink. “Yes. That. You have another thing coming if you’re going to insinuate I can’t do my job because of some hormonal bullshit.”
Huh.
I have to admit her answer takes me by surprise; I’ve never met an omega who seemed almost offended by their own designation, but then again, I’ve only met one other (two if you count my cousin Noah’s mate), andshecertainly wasn’t embarrassed by what she was. On the contrary, she reveled in it. Which is exactly why the idea of being forced to live under the same roof as another omega for so long makes my insides twist.
I suppose I could grab some suppressants from the pharmacy in town if she insists on being stubborn—maybe she has some sort of condition that makes her incapable of taking them?—but then again, this ismyplace. Why should I?
Because she smells fucking mouthwatering.
There’s something in an omega’s scent that calls to someone like me; it’s a tiny zing of unbridled want that creeps up my spine with even the smallest of inhales, one that I know all too well. It’s bone-deep in our DNA to feel these things in each other’s presence, and even if I’m currently the only one apparently feeling them, that doesn’t mean it’s not still a terrible idea to have her here.
I take a step back from her, sort of at a loss. She still looks offended.Worked up, even. And while I have no desire for her to be here, doing what she’s planning on doing, I wasn’t intending to be outrightrude—regardless of how uneasy she makes me.
“Oh…kay,” I say slowly. “Well…all right then. Just thought I’d mention it, considering.”
“Considering,” she scoffs.
I wonder if Mackenzie was this hostile to Noah when they met.
Miss Fixit is still glaring at me as I slowly turn back toward the stairs, and I hold my breath while I take them two at a time, needing to put distance between me and the tiny, sweet-smelling contractor who might actually want to murder me.
I don’t slow down until my bedroom door is closed and locked behind me. I’d had a lot of expectations about meeting the contractor after Jeannie finally wore me down to hire one, but nearly being barreled over by her big brown eyes wasn’t even remotely within the realm of possibilities I’d dreamed up. I’d prepared myself to be cold to her, even downright unwelcoming if I had to be—anything to put up some sort of final protest against this entire debacle that Jeannie insists is necessary. And I tried. I really did.
But Little Miss Fixit wasn’t having any of it.
There’s a ghost of a smile on my mouth as I remember the way she tore into me; she’s such a tiny thing, and yet, when she let me know what’s what, she reared up like a brown bear protecting her cubs on the mountainside. And I shouldn’t find that cute. I also shouldn’t have found myself at a loss for words even for a moment while studying her soft waves the color of tree bark and her full mouth the same blushed shade of the hellebores that grow up the mountain.
And herscent.
I can still practically taste the richness of it—like baked applesand cinnamon with a touch of something headier, something that could make me dizzy if I let myself have too much of it.
Tess.I test her name in my head, liking the sound of it. Soft, like her. Except she isn’t. Not really. I can tell that Tess is nowhere near as soft as she looks. I can discern that after only a few minutes with her. Which means it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder than I anticipated to treat her like I originally planned. To make sure she’s all too aware of how I’m against the changes she’ll bring. I close my eyes, letting my head thunk against my bedroom door as I try to push out of my mind the way she pursed her mouth. No, I can keep my distance, I think. I can make sure she knows exactly how I feel about her being here, sweet scent or no. Because I can’t let someone like her rush into my life and turn it upside down. Not again.
The last time nearly broke me.
3
Tess
“Have you beensleeping?” Ada asks. “You’re too young for eye bags.”
I pause from unpacking to glance over at the mirror above the dresser and press my fingertips to the obvious dark circles that have started to form under my eyes. I frown at the overall shittiness of my appearance—my bangs look stringy, and my complexion seems somehowpalerthan usual. It’s like I didn’t sleep at all last night. Which, fair.
“I look that bad, huh?”
“You look stunning.” My lips purse at her tone as she adds, “For an extra onThe Walking Dead.”
“Hysterical,” I mutter.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Just a rough night,” I say, shoving another pair of jeans into a dresser drawer. “Didn’t get much sleep.”
Hardly any, thanks to my infuriating new employer. Even now I feel myself tensing at the memory of the bizarre exchange I had with Hunter last night—from the coarse initial greeting to theinfuriating remarks over my new designation I’d barely had more than a few hours to come to terms with.
If you’re going to be staying here, it would probably be a good idea to take precautions. I wouldn’t want you to have an incident.
