Page 28 of A Promise of Forever (The Vallaverse #3)

Sterling

The rest of the day passed in a blur of sweet touches and stolen kisses, punctuated by little sandwiches that staff dropped off without disturbing us.

Forrest couldn't stay cramped under the desk forever, but I found some confidence emerging as the hours passed.

I started sitting beside him at his desk, content to watch him work without feeling uncomfortable being out in the open.

Eventually, I began wandering the walls of his office, my fingers trailing along the spines of leather-bound books and picking up small trinkets that told stories about Forrest's life I didn't know yet.

A carved wooden wolf, a framed photograph of two women and a smaller boy who must have been Forrest as a child, a collection of what looked like antique coins displayed in a shadow box.

Every time I looked back over at my Valla, he'd be smiling. Not the dangerous expression he shows the world, but something content and genuinely happy that made me return the gesture. Each smile gave me even more confidence to keep exploring, to claim more space in his world as my own.

But now, standing just outside the empty fighting ring that I saw earlier from the box up on the balcony, all that confidence has evaporated.

The small bit of anxiety that's been growing in my chest all day for the evening's fights is now at full blown panic, my hands trembling and my breaths coming a little too fast.

The spotlight shines down on the middle of the stage, illuminating the space where people will soon be hurting each other for entertainment and profit. Standing inches away from the ropes around the edge, I stare up at the elevated platform, and I can't quite make myself understand why this exists.

I swallow nervously, even with Forrest right behind me. Terror is trying to claw its way into my thoughts, dragging up memories of Wilson's fists and the casual violence that marked every day of my old life.

"What are you thinking, Sterling?" Forrest murmurs against my ear, concern coating his words. "Talk to me, little dove. Do we need to go home?"

I shake my head, pressing myself back against Forrest's chest and seeking the security of his scent. He wraps his arms around me immediately, his coconut and rum smell surrounding me.

Forrest didn't make it all that obvious, but I figured out over the course of the day how important tonight's fights are.

New fighters to evaluate, business deals to finalize, territory to establish now that he's taken over Dorian's operation.

I've caught pieces of conversation and tried to make sense of it but most of it makes my head swim.

So, instead of forcing myself to figure it out, I'm trying to be brave, trying to understand this part of his world, but I just can't wrap my head around why people would want to hurt each other like this.

I step closer to the ring and reach out to touch one of the ropes, the rough material foreign under my fingertips. My nostrils flare as I catch the layered scents around this place. Sweat and blood and adrenaline, old and new, creating an atmosphere that makes my Omega instincts scream danger.

A sound from somewhere in the building makes me twist around suddenly, my heart beating faster as panic floods my system. But then Forrest is right there, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me softly, grounding me with his touch.

I sag against him, embarrassed by my overreaction but grateful for his immediate response. "Let me take you home," he murmurs against my lips.

"No!" The word comes out sharper than I intended. "I'm just processing. I want to understand this."

My eyes dart toward the entrance where I heard the noise, then back to Forrest's face. He tilts his head to the side, studying my expression, and I can see the exact moment realization dawns in his dark eyes.

"Sterling," he says, his voice taking on a much softer tone.

"The only people in this area right now are my security team.

I hired them specifically to ensure that no one steps into this space until you get all the answers you need.

When you're satisfied, we'll go up to the box.

And no one will be allowed in there except for my brother's pack, Lorcan, and Thea. "

The explanation helps, but one detail sticks out. "Not even the waiters?"

Forrest frowns, concern flickering across his features. "Are you hungry? I'll make sure there's food brought up for you, sweetheart."

"No, I just..." I struggle to articulate why that detail matters.

Forrest's expression softens with understanding. "Only the people I inherently trust are allowed up there on nights like these. No staff except Thea and Lorcan, who you've already briefly met. No one who hasn't earned my complete confidence over years of loyalty."

I nod, the reassurance settling some of my anxiety. I turn back to look at the ring again, trying to see it through Forrest's eyes rather than my own traumatized perspective.

"Would you like to speak with one of the fighters?" Forrest offers. "They're warming up in the back. I could introduce you to someone who could explain what they get out of competing."

My nose scrunches up instinctively, and I shake my head. It's not that I'd necessarily be scared of them, but being around another Alpha right now when I'm already overwhelmed feels like too much. The thought of strange scents and dominant energy pressing on my Omega instincts makes my skin crawl.

I shake my head again, more firmly this time, and Forrest accepts the refusal without question.

"Did you ever fight?" I ask instead, curious about his personal experience with this world.

"Yes, I used to." Forrest's voice carries a hint of nostalgia. "When I was younger, before the business required all my attention."

"What did it feel like?"

Forrest hums thoughtfully, considering how to explain. "Freedom. It was one of the few ways I was given to release my emotions, emotions that would get me killed or locked up anywhere else in society."

"Because you wanted to hurt people?"

"No." The lack of hesitation in his answer just makes this all that more confusing.

"Because I didn't know how to control my urges when I was young.

I didn't understand what my anger meant or why I couldn't just react to things when everyone else in public spaces could express themselves freely.

Valla are expected to maintain perfect control at all times, or we're labeled as dangerous and unstable.

This ring gave me the opportunity to figure out how to channel those instincts without destroying my life. "

I process that, trying to reconcile the controlled man in front of me with someone who needed an outlet for uncontrolled violence. "By hurting people? I don't know why that helps."

Forrest lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders falling in what seems like resignation.

"Inside these four corners, the only pain I felt was what I allowed myself to feel.

I got to fight my demons in a controlled space where everyone involved chose to be there.

Where the violence had rules and limits and consent. "

I frown, thinking about all the Alphas in my life who used violence without any of those boundaries. "I wish more Alphas chose this route instead of..." I trail off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

A rumbling purr filters into the air as Forrest sits on the edge of the stage, then pulls me close so I'm standing between his legs. His hands settle on my waist, his thumbs slipping just beneath my shirt to run across my skin.

"Sterling, this doesn't fix people. If an Alpha or Beta or Valla chooses to use their emotional outrage on someone without consent, that can't be fixed by just stepping into a ring.

They would demolish their opponent because they're not looking for fair competition.

They would circumvent the rules because they don't respect boundaries.

They'd be out for blood rather than release. "

He pauses, making sure I'm following his logic.

"A space like this only works for people who want to find better ways to channel their nature.

For people who need an outlet but respect consent and rules.

It would never work for someone like Wilson because he's not looking for an outlet. He's looking for victims."

I stare at Forrest, the distinction crystallizing in my mind with painful clarity.

Wilson and all my ex-Alphas willingly chose to be aggressive.

They made sure I hurt and they enjoyed causing that pain.

It wasn't about needing release or struggling with uncontrolled emotions.

It was about power and cruelty for its own sake.

Whereas Forrest is saying that this fight ring, this controlled violence, is for people who just need something more than what polite society allows. People who want to do better but need help learning how.

"I'm not sure if I completely get it," I admit honestly, "but I'm more comfortable now than I was. Can we go upstairs? There's too much open space down here."

The admission feels vulnerable. I should probably be braver, should push myself to stay in the uncomfortable space longer. But Forrest's warm laugh tells me I have nothing to be ashamed of.

"Come on, let's get set up in the box so the fighters can have their moment in the limelight."

I take his hand gratefully, letting him lead me toward a staircase I didn't notice before.

An imposing Alpha stands guard at the door, his muscular frame blocking the entrance until he sees Forrest approaching.

Then he immediately opens the door for us and bows his head in a gesture of respect that feels foreign to witness.

I'm not used to seeing people defer to anyone, especially not with the kind of genuine reverence this man shows Forrest. I scurry up the steps, suddenly eager to get back to the controlled environment of the viewing box.

Just as the door closes behind us, chaos spills into the space we just left.

By the time I reach the top step and enter the viewing box from this morning, I'm breathing harder than the climb should warrant.

Anxiety and relief war in my chest as I take in the familiar space.

People are setting up equipment, adjusting microphones and checking sound levels, everything so methodical and professional like it's just another weekday night at The Forge.

Forrest steps up behind me and wraps his arms around my chest, his purr rumbling to life. The sound and the pressure of his embrace help me relax incrementally, my racing heart slowly returning to normal.

"Let me show you how everything works so you can be comfortable, okay?" Forrest murmurs against my ear.

"What do you mean?" I'm not sure what there is to show beyond the couch and the small room I hid in before.

"I always thought the comforts of this space were excessive," Forrest admits, guiding me toward a control panel I didn't notice last time. "But I guess I just needed someone special to help me understand why my father built it this way."

He shows me buttons and switches, explaining their functions with patient detail.

"My father would bring his Omega here when business required his presence at the fights.

I can only imagine how disorienting it could be for an Omega in a space designed for violence.

So this space is outfitted with noise-canceling technology and light dimming options. "

Forrest gestures toward the small room where I hid. "That room back there? It used to be my father's nest away from home. Jesus Christ, I never understood why he insisted on all these accommodations until just now."

I just stand there, processing the implications of what he's telling me. Forrest's father built this entire private box with features specifically for an Omega's comfort. Something about Forrest being as clueless as I feel makes me smile.

He might be a big bad Valla but it's the small moments of revelation or confusion as he tries to understand me that makes it all better.

"I keep telling myself this world isn't made for an Omega," Forrest continues, his voice rough with emotion.

"That I don't want you to see this side of me or understand what I really do.

And I know it's only been a few days, Sterling, but.

.." He pauses, and I can feel his heart racing against my back.

"My father adapted his world for his Omega.

Made space for him in places where Omegas weren't supposed to exist. Fuck, I'm going to do the same for you. "

Tears spring to my eyes without warning, emotion overwhelming my carefully maintained composure. "Valla?" I twist around to look up at him.

Forrest grins, that beautiful expression that transforms his face from dangerous to devastating, and cups my face in his hands. "I'm going to fall in love with you, Sterling King. Fuck, I think I'm already falling."

Then his mouth is on mine, kissing me with a passion that steals my breath and makes my knees weak. I desperately kiss him back, pouring every confused emotion into the contact. Fear and hope and desperate need all tangled together until I can't separate them.

When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, Forrest rests his forehead against mine. "You don't have to love me back," he whispers. "Not yet, maybe not ever. But I need you to know that you're not just temporary or convenient. You're becoming everything to me."