Page 6

Chapter six

VIOLET

The gallery is slow today which is great because I slept like shit. My chin rests in my palm, fingers drumming against the counter in a lazy rhythm, my gaze flicking toward Sofie, who’s been quietly reorganizing the small prints near the kiosk. Her movements are steadier today, less hesitant, less fragile. However, her cheeks are flushed pink, her biology threatening to undo us at any minute.

At least with the scent blocker and the heat pills, I’m hoping she can hold on longer. I wanted to leave her at home, told her to have her phone by her if I had to rush back but she wouldn’t have it. Sofie mentioned that staying that far away from me wasn’t going to happen and I caved. Because when it comes to my Omega, I’ll always cave. Even if it’s fucking dangerous having an Omega nearing heat in the middle of an art gallery.

Sofie lets out a little sigh, bringing me back to reality. Exhaustion claims her movements, her body working against her. And yet, she’s still trying to be strong, trying to help, trying to be useful. “Baby, come sit down before you fall over.”

“I’m not going to fall over,” she mutters as she stomps back over to the counter and plops into the seat. I chuckle at the cute pout on her lips, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Fine. I was and I hate it. I’m so tired, Vi. I just want to curl up in a ne—” Sofie catches herself, her lids falling closed as she lets out a little sigh. It’s one of the things she’s never really built. I have no idea why. An Omega like Sofie, I would have thought she would thrive in pillows and blankets and the comfort it brought.

But she hasn’t even tried rearranging the pillows on our bed once. So long as I’m near her, she just curls up in my arms like I can protect her from the entire goddamn world. Well, that and the one raggedy-ass cushion that has seen better days.

“Sofie, it’s okay. We can build one tonight, okay? I’ll make sure to pick up a few more pillows. Maybe some—”

Sofie shakes her head. “No, I’m not sure why I said that. I don’t need a nest. I have you.”

A frustrated sigh falls from my lips as I perch my ass on the edge of the corner and lean over to catch Sofie’s attention. “Baby, you will always have me. That will never change but you don’t have to pick and choose. You can have a nest too. Do you want one?”

Her nose scrunches up and then she shakes her head. “I keep telling myself I should want one but it doesn’t feel right. I just want you. Just you is fine.” She angles her chin up, patiently waiting for a kiss. God, she’s adorable. Gladly, I oblige her, swallowing the little noise she makes before I head into the main part of the gallery. There’s a few patrons wandering around but they’ve been here more times than I can count.

They don’t need my help to explain what’s here and if they choose something, Sofie can check them out. My only job is to be here should someone need information. Or if Xavier throws some asinine task at me again.

The bell above the door chimes but I don’t look up right away. It’s muscle memory at this point, the sound signaling another wide-eyed rich person with too much money to burn or some businessman looking for a statement piece to make himself seem cultured. There’s very few people that walk through that door that truly ever catch my attention and fewer that catch my interest.

Lance is one of those people. Hawk might also be, the way those dark eyes bore into me, dissecting me until I was laid bare for him. However, the presence that steps through the door today is on an entirely different level. It feels like I’ve somehow found a piece of home, the thick scent of sandalwood filling my nose until my entire body is alight with need. It’s nearly as strong as the moments Sofie goes into a heat spike, her scent making me crave things I won’t be able to satisfy.

I slowly turn around to find the source, my gaze landing on the man I’ve told myself I can’t have. Puma. He comes in here nearly as often as Lance does but his purpose seems different. Those silver strands wound through his dark hair, a full beard that makes me wonder what it would feel like grazing along my inner thighs. The dark blue sweater he’s wearing clings to every last muscle beneath it, tattoos peeking out of his collar and the cuffs, covering his hands. A heavy sigh falls from my lips as his pale green eyes move to connect with my brown ones.

A slow grin spreads across his lips as if he’s found the one thing he came for, his approach full of command that most Alphas wish they could harness. He’s a picture of tailored perfection, like he just walked out of a damn magazine and yet, it looks so goddamn effortless.

Sofie lets out a tiny giggle, breaking the tension I hadn’t even realized had wrapped itself around me. She fucking knows exactly how I’m feeling right now and the fact that she’s not affected by Puma just tells me how much shit I’m in. I can’t afford anything that would distract me from caring for Sofie.

I clear my throat and weather a small smile. “Afternoon. Welcome to Ash & Ivory.”

His lips twitch, the ghost of something amused there for just a second before he speaks. "Violet," he says, voice low and rich, sinking into my skin like the perfect drug. "We’ve met." His head tilts as he observes me, my body warming beneath his attention. This is dangerous.

“I know, Puma.” Something twists inside of me, the fantasy of calling this man Alpha swirling around in my head. The idea of moaning it as he… Fuck. “Yes, I remember. Did you come in for something in particular or did you want to just look around? There’s several new paintings.” I’m kind of hoping he doesn’t want to see the new ones. I still feel weird about putting them up yesterday.

Puma’s gaze lingers, drifting over me in a way that tells me he’s feeling the same pull I am. Neither of us addresses it, though as he finally shakes his head. “Just browsing but stay close. I might have some questions.” We both know that’s bullshit. Out of everyone who comes through here, Puma is one of the most educated patrons we have. He’s taught me more about the art in here than the little cards next to the frames ever will.

But I’m not going to pass up a chance to walk with him. I glance over at Sofie again to make sure she’s okay, her bright smile and that little wave of her hand giving me the courage to enjoy this for just a little longer.

Puma fits his hands behind him, pulling his sweater just a little tighter across his chest. I try hard not to stare but it’s like every instinct I have is dragging me toward him. And I’m not sure I want to fight it. It’s a good thing I have some self-control as he moves in calculated steps through the gallery. He doesn’t just glance at the artwork—he studies it, like he’s looking for something beneath the paint, something hidden between the brushstrokes that no one else has noticed. The way his gaze lingers, assessing, makes the gallery feel smaller, like the walls have pressed in just slightly to accommodate him.

It's mesmerizing to watch him, the desire to have him watch me like that a gnawing feeling in the back of my mind. I keep my pace beside him, answering his occasional questions, the deep baritone of his voice thrumming through me. I’m going to make a fool of myself soon, heat building in my belly as I try to keep my voice steady.

Because then, Puma stops. Right in front of the same painting the twins had been so damn interested in yesterday. A stillness settles over him, a shift so small most people wouldn’t even notice it, but I do. The way his frown deepens just slightly, the way his jaw tightens in a way that’s nearly imperceptible, like something isn’t sitting right with him.

Did he see it? Did he notice the same thing I did?

My pulse picks up, but I force myself to stay still, to keep my expression neutral. I don’t know enough to point out what’s wrong with the piece and saying the wrong thing—saying anything —could put me in a position I don’t want to be in. So, I do what I’ve gotten good at. I keep my mouth shut.

Puma steps closer, hands still clasped behind his back, his head tilting just slightly as his eyes trace over the canvas. The careful scrutiny of a man who knows art, who has spent years curating his own collection, who can likely tell at a glance when something isn’t right. Then, casually, almost like an afterthought, he murmurs, “I’m pretty sure I have one of these pieces in my collection.”

My breath catches.

“Finding another,” he continues, his tone almost a test to my control, “is such a rare opportunity.”

A cold prickle works its way down my spine. That isn’t just an observation. That’s a statement. One that means this painting shouldn’t be here. Do I tell him? Do I mention the way the paint smudged beneath my fingers, the way it had still been wet when I touched it?

For the sake of keeping my job and providing for Sofie, I can’t say anything. The answer settles quickly in my gut, pressing down on any instinct that tells me otherwise. I have a job to do. This is just another sale. Just another day. Even if everything about this—lying to Puma—is telling me to give him the truth.

Puma hums, as if to himself, then finally glances at me, something I can’t decipher still lingering in his gaze. “Any offers on it?”

Relief flares at the shift in conversation. I nod, seizing the opportunity, already moving toward the kiosk. “I can check the log.” My fingers move quickly over the keyboard, scrolling through the file until I find the painting’s listing. I skim over the details, letting out a breath as I focus on something normal. “Three bids since yesterday afternoon,” I say, pointing to the screen. It seems Lance wasn’t the only one interested in it.

A second passes before I realize he’s stepped in behind me. The shift in air is immediate, the warmth of him pressing up against my back pulling a gasp from my lips. He’s not exactly touching me, but it doesn’t matter—his presence is enough, making the small space in this corner of the gallery feel even smaller. His scent lingers between us until I have to take shallow breaths not to overwhelm myself.

My grip tightens on the edge of the kiosk, knuckles going white. He’s still not even touching me and I already feel marked. Consumed. Overwhelmed.

Puma leans in just slightly, voice lowering, words brushing too close to the shell of my ear. “And you?”

The question short-circuits my thoughts for half a second. “What about me?” I twist around, biting back a moan when I find him inches from my face. His lips are a breath away from mine, the temptation lingering between us. I clear my throat and step out from between him and the kiosk. “What about me?” I repeat.

His gaze flicks toward me, once again observing me like I’m the most important thing in this room. “What do you think about this painting?”

I feel his words more than I hear them, something about the way they press into the space between us, a weight against my skin. A slow swallow pushes past my throat. My mind races for the right answer, something neutral, something that won’t give anything away. “I think…” My voice stays steady, but I hesitate, choosing my next words carefully. “I think someone’s going to be very lucky to add it to their collection.”

Silence stretches for a beat too long. Then, finally, that slow smirk tugs at his lips, a glint of amusement flickering in his expression, like he knows exactly what I’m doing. He turns his attention back to the painting for a moment longer before he nods. “I’ll have to think about it but I’ll be coming to the showing later this evening.”

I can’t think up a response as he leaves me with yet another one of those smirks before heading for the entrance. He moves with that same infuriating, effortless confidence that makes my stomach coil too tight, my pulse stumble in ways it shouldn’t. The bell chimes as the door swings shut behind him and I force my hands to unclench, dragging them over my face, willing my heart to settle back into something steady.

“Violet.”

Sofie’s voice pulls me back, breaking through whatever haze had wrapped itself around me. She’s standing behind the desk, waving me over with a smile that tells me she saw all of that. Rubbing the back of my neck, I shake off the lingering warmth still clinging to my skin and make my way toward her, wary of whatever expression she’s got waiting for me.

She’s grinning. And that? That’s suspicious as hell. “What?” My voice comes out flat, already on guard. “Is something wrong, baby?”

Her grin only widens, hazel eyes bright with amusement. “You’re blushing.”

A scoff escapes before I can stop it, arms crossing over my chest in pure, knee-jerk denial. “Am not.”

Sofie giggles. “Vi, it’s okay if you want to start something with that Alpha.”

Every muscle in my body locks up. Giving into my desires means leaving Sofie alone and that’s not an option. Not when she’s so close to her heat. “Sof…”

“I’m serious,” she says, her voice gentler now, the teasing replaced by something softer, something I don’t want to hear. “You don’t have to—”

“I can’t.” The words come too fast, too sharp, cutting off whatever she was about to say before it can dig its way into my fragile heart. “You are my priority. End of discussion.”

The frown that pulls at her lips is immediate, the look she gives me so full of exasperation that it makes my stomach twist. “Vi,” she says, voice edged with frustration. “You’re allowed to be happy too.” For a second, I almost argue, almost tell her that isn’t how this works, that nothing about this situation allows for things like that, but before I can, she shakes her head and pushes something across the desk. “That’s not what I wanted to say, though. This is.”

Glancing down, I expect—I don’t even know what I expect—but it sure as hell isn’t a magazine. Thick, glossy, one of those expensive collector’s editions we get in sometimes, filled with luxury features, high-end interviews, business profiles. Sofie’s finger presses against the middle of the page and my stomach drops. Four beautiful, powerful men, posed in a photo so precise, so polished, that it practically radiates wealth, control, status. And right there—smirking, arrogant, wearing a suit like he was fucking born in it—Puma.

My breath catches in my chest as I continue to inspect the image. Flipping the page, my eyes scan the text, barely absorbing the words, moving too fast to process until—The Ashford Pack. “Wait, baby, The Ashford Pack?”

The name pulses through my head, through my chest, like an alarm I should’ve heard ringing a long time ago. Flipping back to the picture, my stomach twists even tighter as my gaze catches on the twins standing beside Puma. Fuck.

My fingers grip the edge of the magazine, knuckles whitening as I force myself to look at the last man in the photo. The younger-looking Alpha with easy charm. Everyone in this business knows his name. The designer. The socialite. The one who turns million-dollar houses into art. A man I spent a passionate-fueled weekend with years ago. A man who filled too many fantasies for me to count.

This has to be a fucking joke. The Ashford Pack that trades art all the time, the pack that owns half the collections we’ve displayed over the years… the very same Alphas I’ve had thoughts about or had in my bed over the years without even fucking knowing who they were.

Sofie’s watching, waiting for me to say something, to react, but all I can do is stare down at the page, my pulse a hammering, uneven mess. “How did we not know who they were?” The question slips out, a little bit of anger simmering beneath the surface. I’ve been trying to remain unattached, untangled from packs in general because it’s what we wanted.

Sofie gently reaches for my hand and then flips it over, tracing the lines there. “Vi, we never looked at pictures. But… it’s weird that they’re everywhere, right? Like first Lance…”

“Gray,” I mutter, not wanting to lie to my Omega. “Baby, Gray was first. Remember the guy I told you about years ago?”

Her eyes light up, a wild smile spreading across her face. “Wait? The guy you disappeared with for a weekend? Camila and I were terrified! You didn’t even answer your phone. I almost called the goddamn police.” Her brows furrow as she glances back down at the page again. “That Gray? God, Vi, this is really complicated.”

Don’t I know. Because the things Gray did to me that weekend still make me blush. He worshipped my body like nobody ever has. I thought for a brief moment that there could be something there but that conversation never happened. And then the weekend ended. Neither of us shared numbers or anything that would have helped us find the other. I was content to let it be a dream.

But now? Things are all fucked up.

Because it’s not just about Lance and Gray. It’s the fact that Sofie reacted to Hawk and I’m having thoughts about Puma. There’s no fucking way we can insert our way into their lives. Then it dawns on me that she didn’t react at all to Puma. “Baby, what about Puma?”

She shakes her head, a soft giggle falling from her lips. “He’s all yours, Vi. What? We’re talking about fantasies, right? If that’s the case, I want to be stuffed between the twins.” She points at the image. “Lance’s hands are magical and two pairs of them? Yes please.”

“Is that what you want, baby?” I denied her Lance yesterday. I won’t do that again. Whatever the fallout is afterward, I’ll deal with. It doesn’t matter that Puma would never go for a Beta like me or that Lance can’t be her Alpha for real. I’ll do anything Sofie needs.

She shakes her head as she steals back the magazine. “Vi, I only want you. It was a joke. I don’t need… I’m sorry. It was a bad joke.”

“No, it wasn’t. We both know that when your heat starts, you’ll need an Alpha. I won’t deny you that or anything else you need. Baby, look at me. What do you need?”

She hesitates before looking up at me, tears glazing those beautiful eyes of hers. “I just want us both to be happy. No, you don’t understand. Vi, the way you lit up when Puma came here. The way you used to talk about Gray. I miss that. I don’t get to see you smile a lot but moments like those are so precious.”

“You’re my priority. Your happiness means everything to me.”

“Good, because I’m happy when you’re happy. And I love that you’re taking care of me and that you love me with your entire soul. I feel safe in your arms but what happens when you’re protecting me? Who protects you? Because it can’t be me anymore. I’m an Omega now.”

I swallow, nervous, guilt settling in the pit of my belly. “What are you saying?” My voice wavers, thick with regret. Is she about to tell me that I’m not enough for her?

“Vi, no. I know what you’re thinking. You are everything that I need. But… I don’t think I’m enough for you.” Sofie leans forward, cupping my face in her hands, a gesture she rarely gives. “I love you so damn much because I know that when I fall you’ll be right there. But I need to know that when you fall, someone will be there to catch you.”

“You need an Alpha,” I whisper, a tear slipping down my cheek.

“No, Vi. You do. Biologically, yes, I need one. But god, you need the same comfort that I need from you. I don’t know why I never saw it. Maybe I’ve been too selfish to figure out what you need but Vi, please just be a little selfish, okay?”

“The Ashford pack isn’t an option, Sofie.” Her shoulders fall and I silently curse myself again. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant. I’ll call Lance if that’s what you need. I just…I’m not sure…”

Sofie releases me and walks around the counter before pressing herself into my chest. “Stop thinking about me for one second. What do you want?”

She wants me to be selfish but I can’t do that. Not at the expense of her well-being. So, I’ll force a tougher smile onto my face and make sure she knows that I’m happy right where I am. Because I am. Even if some part of me longs for just a little bit more—and feeling the way I felt today with Puma in my space, makes me want it more. But that’s not an option.

“I want you,” I finally say, pressing my face into the curve of her neck. “Nothing but you, baby.” The way she tenses in my arms tells me she sees past the bullshit.