Page 27

“That’s a nice camera. Are you interested in videography?”

I jerked in the doorway to the library. Too focused on the sign to notice the alpha who crept up on me. I wobbled back a step, and a crease appeared between his eyes.

“I-I used to be.” My cheeks heated as I tucked my camera in my duffel bag and readjusted my beanie so it covered my hair.

The alpha should have been imposing. I craned my head to look at him. He was solid, and the bulk around his middle bulged over his tan slacks. He tucked his hands in his pockets and nodded inside, where a projector was set up and a small group of Designated lounged in casually strewn chairs. I hung around the back, not wanting anyone to take notice of me hefting about all my worldly belongings.

“You’re just in time. There are some free seats at the back. You should know Starhaven Historical Society is pretty strict about cut-off times for the future.”

I nodded, not wanting to admit that I had no idea how the society worked. Fenella had thrown me out of the apartment this morning and I had nowhere else to go. I was biding my time before I turned up on Thorn’s doorstep, hopefully he would text me back soon. Plus, I’d already written it in my bullet journal calendar. I never went back on something when I put it in ink.

The man’s scent washed over me, hazelnut and coffee. Exhilarating and warm. I was glad I used scent wipes, even as my body reacted. His beard twitched, and the glow spread. This alpha had all the tools to make me uneasy. Power, strength, and a scent that knocked my knees out. But his smile made him soft. Cozy. I’d never met an alpha who put me at ease like that.

Tears pricked the back of my eyes. I really needed a soft place to land. My stomach growled and I grimaced. Fenella hadn’t let me eat before she tossed me out.

“Well, the film is about to start, so…” He raised a thick eyebrow, and his fingers lifted to the light switch.

Oh. He was waiting for me.

I blew out a breath and inched past him. My skin tingled as his warm, inviting scent blanketed my entry. I scurried over to an empty chair, thankful the lights dimmed before he could comment on my unwanted blush.

I sank into the chair and shoved my bag at my feet. I rubbed my aching wrists as the back of my neck prickled, but I refused to stare at the intriguing alpha who turned off the lights. The documentary,The Last Designated Dynasty,started to play. A pang of nostalgia tightened my chest. I longed for something that didn’t exist. I curled my fingers around my notebook and spread it over the table in front of me.

“Here,” a low voice rumpled. A paper plate slid over, filled with cupcakes, cookies, and fruit. “Thought you might want some snacks.”

It was the alpha again, and my tongue swelled at the way he towered over me.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that,” I whispered. But my stomach gurgled with happiness.

His white teeth flashed, and he melted back into the shadows, taking his delicious scent with him.

For the next two hours, I lost myself in the documentary. I watched the legacy of the Hartlock family unfold and wondered where I fit in their hallowed pages. My parents encouraged me to use my name to advocate for those who weren’t as blessed as we were. They liked to be amongst the crowds and chaos. I could only manage it from behind a camera. My senses didn’t get overwhelmed that way. But my parents didn’t approve.

In their eyes, I wasn’t a true Hartlock unless I was ten toes deep in the thick of things.

The Hartlocks memorialized on the screen were worthy of our name. I’d come here for a sign, and I’d gotten one. I had everything I owned in bags at my feet and didn’t even know where I was going to sleep tonight. There were hotels verified for omega safety, but they required identification. I didn’t want to think about it, so I stuffed the last of the vanilla cupcake in my mouth, folding the icing into the napkin.

The credits rolled, and I watched, unseeing. I blinked as the lights came on. My phone vibrated and I snatched it up.

Thorn: This isn’t the place for you.

Me: I’m desperate. Please.

Thorn: Sorry, no space.

The sugar from the sweets turned to iron as I bit my tongue. My journal swam in front of me as I tried, and failed, to hem in my roaring despair. Paralyzed by indecision.

“What did you think?” A low voice startled me, and I let out a muffled squeak.

The alpha teddy bear towered over me, his full lips tipped up. Lines crinkled around his eyes. He leaned on the bookcase next to me with an ease and confidence I only pretended to have. He offered me another napkin when he realized I had a full mouth.

“Or did you just come for the free food?” His thick, brown beard twitched as I chewed faster.

I sucked in a deep breath, getting a lungful of coffee and hazelnut as I did. Warmth spread in my stomach, like syrup. He rested a stack of vintage film reel holders on the table, and I resisted the urge to thumb through them. His thick fingers coasted across the top with a gentle caress. Like they were his babies.

“I never turn down sweets,” I admitted, and we shared a grin.

His hand rubbed across his round middle, but then he caught sight of my journal splayed out in front of me. The felt-tipped pens, stack of stickers, and tabs.