Page 13 of A Promise of Forever (The Vallaverse #3)

"I... it smells like you," I admit quietly.

Forrest laughs, a rich, hearty sound that fills the small space under the desk. It's not mocking or cruel, just genuinely amused, and the sound makes something warm bloom in my chest.

"Here's my truth," he says, settling more comfortably on the floor.

"I know the basic things about Omegas, but I'm going to learn everything.

All of it. Whatever you need, whatever makes you feel safe and comfortable, I'm going to figure it out.

First thing's first. The room I gave you is too big, isn't it? "

I nod, grateful for a question I can answer easily.

"And it's too bright?"

Another nod. The enormous windows that probably cost more than most people's cars flooded the space with sunlight by the time I actually left the room. It made me nauseous.

"Not enough security?”

"Yes," I whisper, amazed that he understands instinctively what I couldn't articulate.

"Would you prefer a smaller space? Cozier? Maybe with just one window, and heavier curtains you can close if you want?"

Each question makes it easier to breathe, easier to think beyond the immediate panic of being discovered.

He's not making me explain my needs or justify my preferences.

He's just asking simple yes-or-no questions that let me communicate without having to find words for things I don't understand about myself.

"Cold or warm?" he asks next. "Do you like being able to control the temperature, or do you prefer it when someone else handles that?"

"Someone else," I answer immediately, then flush with embarrassment at how needy that sounds.

But Forrest just nods like it's perfectly reasonable. "Soft textures or firm ones? Lots of pillows and blankets, or just a few high-quality pieces?"

I frown at first, wondering if he went on a little research binge this morning when he left me, because while the questions feel clinical, they’re so much more personal than anything I’ve ever experienced. "Soft," I say, thinking about the silk blankets I dragged to the corner last night. "Lots."

"Music or quiet? Do you like background noise, or does it make you anxious?"

"Quiet. Noise makes me..." I trail off, not sure how to explain how sudden sounds send me into panic mode.

"Makes you think someone's coming who shouldn't be," Forrest finishes, and the understanding in his expression makes me want to crawl into the safety he’s providing. Fuck, he makes it look so easy. Fifteen minutes ago, I was terrified of him and now, I’m falling for this version of him all over again.

I slap away at the tears on my face and focus on breathing as he continues asking questions, each one more specific than the last.

It takes me a little while to realize he's building a profile of my needs and preferences with the same methodical approach he probably uses for his business.

It really does feel like he cares, though.

Like he genuinely wants to understand how to make me comfortable.

Finally, he tilts his head to the side, a smile sliding across his lips.

"You don't like having to make decisions, do you? "

I automatically dip my head in acknowledgment. It's something I've always been ashamed of. Other Omegas seem capable of expressing preferences, of knowing what they want and asking for it. But for me, making choices has always felt overwhelming and dangerous.

"Although I hated my other Alphas," I admit quietly, "the fact that I didn't have to make decisions was the easiest part."

It's a terrible confession, acknowledging that something was appealing about the control Wilson and the others exerted over my life.

"If you don’t want to make decisions, Sterling, you don’t have to.

And if that changes, if you want to make decisions then you absolutely can.

Here, you’re free to make the choices you weren’t able to elsewhere.

” He offers his hand, palm toward me like he did this morning and I eagerly shift into it, rubbing my nose along his skin.

His purr starts up again as I drink up his scent and then sit back a little, wondering what he’ll ask of me next.

“As much as I want to stay right here, there are a few things I need to complete and people I have to speak with before I can call it an evening.

Then we can have dinner together. How does that sound? "

My eyebrows nearly shoot off my head. "You'll let me stay?"

He chuckles, the Valla obviously trying hard to curtail the sound.

“Little dove, Jesus Christ, yes, this is your house too, now. There will be a few others in this office at some point as well, but they won’t come near the desk.

If you feel uncomfortable, though, you can tap my thigh or tell me your word. You remember it, right?”

He moves to stand up, still holding my gaze. He’s giving me power. A Valla is giving me, an Omega, power. “Yes, sir, I remember. It’s red.”

His eyes darken a little, but it isn’t with anger.

I stare for longer than is appropriate before I realize that it’s a mixture of intrigue and desire lurking in his expression.

Forrest wants me. That realization in and of itself puts everything in a new light.

I was okay if this just became a refuge, but knowing that the man who saved me might also be interested in me? That gives me hope.

That maybe I’m not completely damaged.

"Sir," I whisper, curling up more comfortably in the space that's starting to feel like a nest. Not that I’ve ever had one, but if I did, I’d want it to be right here. "I want to stay here."