Page 154

“Are we going shopping?” My fingers shake, body buzzing. I want lingerie from Travina more than almost anything in the world.

“No.” Connor smirks as I deflate, pulling me into his chest and scent marking me all over again. “You’re going to have a private lesson.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Any nerves from the car are gone, disappearing in the white noise of my thoughts. My heart stops and I cease to exist.

Goodbye cruel world. This alpha sent me to heaven.

“No way.” Breathing is impossible as I struggle to contain the urge to jump around with glee and mild panic. “She doesn’t do lessons.”

Jacob tried as an anniversary present, my first and only, and lost his shit when he was told no.

Connorshrugs, as if it’s no big deal that we’re in the home workshop of mydream designer. “Travi and I go way back. When I told her about our omega’s love of lingerie design, she was happy to meet you.”

“He says it like I would ever deny him.” We turn around and there she is. My icon. My idol. Travina Bellencourt in the flesh.

Ohmigod, ohmigod, OHMIGOOOOOOOD. She’s so cute, I’m going to die.

Dark hair piled on top of her hair in a riot of coils leaves her neck and more than one bondmark visible. She’s got a loose shirt tied off at the waist to bare a little more of her dusky brown skin and a comfortable pair of leggings that end in adorable fuzzy otter slippers.

“I’m overdressed,” I whisper to Connor.

“You’re beautiful.”

“He’s right. My omega would love those boots.” Travina steps forward and shakes my hand—oh my god, I can never wash it again—before shoving Connor away. Anyone getting so close to my alpha would normally have my hackles up, but the way she looks at him is pure friendship, and honestly, I’m too busymooning overherto care. “The guys are upstairs. Go get a drink or something. We’ll call when we’re done.”

Connor ignores her, turning to cup my cheek. “You going to be okay? I promise you’re safe here.”

“Of course she’s safe,” my idol scoffs.

I glance at the angel next to me and pray I don’t pass out. “I’m having a lesson with Travina fucking Bellencourt. I could die right now and be totally happy.”

“Yeah, let’s not do that. We have plans for you.” Connor brushes our lips together before I’m stolen away, and he’s shooed out of the room.

“Christ, I thought he’d never leave.” Travina looks me over again. “You’re even cuter than he described.”

I’m not going to make it if she keeps complimenting me. “You’re beautiful,” I blurt, mortified at how unchill I am but my brain is offline, screechingpretty woman. Pretty, pretty beta woman. “Also, thanks for doing this. I know you don’t do lessons.”

With a warm smile, she walks toward the double doors, beckoning me closer. “Not normally, but this is a special circumstance. Honestly, your boyfriend is the only reason I graduated high school. Geometry nearly kicked my ass until he became my tutor. Who knew math would be such a big part of design?” She throws me a wink, leaning into me like we’re old friends. She smells so good. Nothing like my alphas, but cozy. Like my favorite blanket or something.

Holy shit, I’m smelling Travina Bellencourt.

I get full workshop tour, relaxing with each step. The main section is clean and almost sterile. Every station is perfectly set up and there’s not a thing out of place, but her personal area is chaos.

Fabric hangs on every possible surface, while needles stick out of a plethora of pincushions in adorable shapes. Sketcheslitter the walls, windows and floors of the room. The air smells heavily of a few other scents, ones that twine with hers perfectly.

It’s a fucking mess and I want to squeal becausesame, babe. Saaaaaame.

Jesus, Daph. Chill the fuck out.

“Where is your pack?” I ask, trying to keep my twitching fingers to myself. The urge to touch things is so strong, I feel my body shaking.

“With Connor, probably,” Travina waves loosely. “They all work in the upper levels, but I asked them to stay out while you’re here. Having an unbonded omega around can get hairy for everyone.”

The idea of her separating from her pack because of me, even for a little while, doesn’t feel right. “I’m sorry if I’m inconveniencing you.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Do you do that a lot?”