Page 36 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Twenty-Two

Owen

M y necktie and cufflinks were missing.

I frowned at the empty spot on the shelf beside Morgan’s printer. Her home office was a compact but efficient space, the perfect base of operations for the past six days.

Except for the constant thefts.

I shot a withering glare at the rotund cat on the sofa. Tenny had dedicated most of the past week to swiping my pens and other small office supplies. My accessories had no doubt joined them.

Their disappearance didn’t bother me. It gave me a legitimate excuse to retreat across the hall. If only for an hour. To shower and change.

And savor the taste lingering on my tongue in private.

I needed to regroup. To process. Because there was a fatal flaw in my logic.

I had once again underestimated Morgan Van Daal.

The compulsion of her heated gaze. Her persuasive touches. The alluring softness of her breast filling my palm. All temptations hellbent on destroying my resolve.

But I’d held firm and focused on facilitating to the best of my ability, doing what was required according to her wishes. Ensuring the others were in sufficient physical condition to meet her demands. Methodically checking every neat little box in the planning binder.

Until I was the last man standing…and I couldn’t hide from my baser instincts any longer.

The decadent omega curves, her silken skin—radiant after days of Alijah’s meticulous care—the flex of her toned stomach, the exquisite planes of her finely honed musculature.

To say nothing of the devastation she wrought on my other senses.

How lush she smelled. A potent orchid, leaves dotted with tropical dew, begging to be plucked. The undercurrent of ripe star anise, ready to burst. Rich vanilla, a hint of citrus…

It had been hard enough to resist her scent from a respectful distance. But up close?

There was nothing respectful about the way I’d devoured her.

How I relished the responsive roll of her full hips as her greedy fingers tangled in my hair. The way her whimpers morphed into satiated coos.

Omegas were biologically designed to bring alphas to their knees. Morgan was no different.

And to my shock, neither was I. My alpha was hard-wired to stay there, kneeling between her glorious thighs, plundering her with my fingers and spelling out chemical formulas against her clit with my tongue, locked in a circuit of mutual pleasure.

I was never a desirous man. Until today.

A personal breakthrough with lifelong consequences, because I would never crave another.

Which was problematic, to say the least. I may have physically pleased Morgan to the point of breaking her heat, but I was left unsatisfied.

On every level.

And now I couldn’t even put myself back together. I sneered at my bare cuffs. My throat felt too bare, too exposed, without a tie.

Disgruntled. That was the word for it. I was disgruntled.

And hungry.

A bleary-eyed Alijah walked into the office, still wearing Morgan’s fluffy robe.

“We’re doing Chinese.” He handed me a takeout menu, then shuffled over to the sofa, where he curled up beside Tenny. They yawned in near unison. “And don’t worry about the appetizers. Think Cal’s ordering ten of everything.”

“He would,” I said, scanning the entrees. “I’ll have the chicken chow mein, please.”

“Finally, a normal order.” Alijah remained in place, head resting against the back of the sofa, regarding me with a probing near-black gaze.

“Out with it.”

“Nothing. Just wondering how you’re holding up.”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, yeah, I’m exhausted, and I’m pretty sure Joaquin plans to sleep for like twenty hours after he shovels two orders of fried rice into his mouth, but…

I don’t have any complaints. Or regrets.

” His head tilted to one side, looking perfectly innocent as he lobbed a loaded question. “How about you?”

I leaned back in the chair, steepling my fingers to my lips, and studied my youngest packmate. He was less perceptive than Joaquin, but his emotional intelligence was the highest among us, perhaps save for Cal.

Had I made another mistake?

“It’s just… You look—and smell—frustrated. Like maybe you were hoping her heat would last another couple of hours. For reasons .”

“My primary role was to facilitate. Not participate.”

“And yet…”

“I only did what was necessary,” I said, firm tone leaving no room for him to retort, extending the menu with a flick. “That’s all.”

“If you say so.” He yawned and got to his feet, heading back into the foyer of Morgan’s suite.

“Call you when dinner gets here. Oh, and before I forget.” Alijah leaned back through the doorway.

“If a shirt or something goes missing, don’t look for it.

Cal says it’s a delayed nesting instinct. Just let her have it.”

I glanced at the lounging Tenny. It seemed my accusations of theft weren’t entirely unfounded. He was an accomplice who allowed his owner to make off with my tie and cufflinks in exchange for a mere belly rub.

“And don’t pull a Wyatt,” Alijah said with an uncharitable laugh. “He took his shorts back and had to spend ages making it up to her.” He scratched his chin. “…on second thought, maybe he was onto something.”

“Dinner, Alijah.”

“Oh—right! Dinner.” He gave a start and hurried toward the living room, with Tenny ambling along in his wake.

Leaving me even hungrier than before.

***

Dinner was a subdued affair, eaten straight from the carton, sitting in silence around Morgan’s dining room table, the atmosphere thick with exhaustion. No one had any strength to spare.

Except me.

I was eager to return to my home office. Where her tantalizing scent couldn’t reach me. Or render my dinner bland in comparison to her enticing flavor.

Stop, I chastised myself, eating my chow mein in methodical bites. Now wasn’t the time for carnal thoughts. I had emails to send. Proposals to print.

But when should I present them to her?

Morgan yawned between bites of kung pao chicken. She’d done an admirable job polishing off most of it, along with her fried rice and egg roll, but she was listing to one side, hair still damp from the bath, eyelids fluttering as she resisted the urge to sleep.

Had someone put clean sheets on her bed?

There was no such item on my checklist. I’d focused on preparing for the heat itself, omitting the recovery phase—a regrettable oversight on my part.

Did my role as a facilitator give me the right to step in and ensure she continued to receive optimal aftercare?

Despite her half-raised fork, Morgan nodded off, mouth lax, head drooping, body tipping forward in her chair.

Wyatt gingerly caught her by the wrist, preventing her from falling over.

Joaquin was by her side in a flash, rubbing her back as she returned to her senses. “Come on, doc. Let’s get you to bed.”

“It’s all fresh and cozy,” Alijah added, hurrying over to help. He must have changed the sheets while I was showering.

Excellent. Now, I could focus on tomorrow. Let everyone get a solid night’s sleep before unveiling my grand plans.

Getting to my feet, I carried my leftover food into the kitchen and put it in the fridge. I never planned to finish it. But it was a regular action. To be expected. That wouldn’t draw Cal or Joaquin’s attention.

Returning to my office, I printed the requisite paperwork.

I sat at my desk, reading and rereading the fine print, hunting for any problematic detail that had escaped my prior scrutiny.

How would Morgan react?

Muted surprise, perhaps, eyes narrowing the merest millimeter, her lips knotting together into a tempting pout.

Or would her defenses still be lowered due to the after-effects of her heat, letting her genuine reaction slip through?

Tapping my fingertips against my chin, I swiveled my chair to face the direction of her suite at the opposite end of the building…where another man had long since tucked her in. Was perhaps pressed against her at this very moment, trailing goodnight kisses along the length of her neck.

Kiss.

Another missed checklist item. I hadn’t taken the time to kiss her before…

Shaking myself out of my lustful stupor, I turned back to my computer. But work held no interest for me. A rare occurrence that I found deeply unsettling.

It took me far too long to realize the writhing nausea creeping up my gullet was my alpha protesting.

It was throwing an immature tantrum, the likes of which it hadn’t indulged in since I was a teenager, wondering why it fell on me to keep my brother fed for the rest of the week until our mother got paid.

Why wasn’t I the alpha in her bed? Why had it taken me so long to recognize the truth of Joaquin’s words—that she was perfect for us?

But things were different now. I wasn’t a high school student keeping the bills paid with prize money from academic competitions.

I was the head of my own long-awaited pack.

My incomplete pack.

Yes, the situation was entirely different. I had the power to change things. An infinite number of things.

Including my mind…and our timeline for courting Morgan.

***

Alijah hummed as he bustled about the kitchen the following morning, freshly showered and shaved, wearing proper clothes for the first time in days. A good night’s sleep had done wonders for our beta.

He placed a fruit salad and a basket of toast on the dining room table, then doubled back when the timer went off, where Joaquin was already pulling a sausage egg casserole out of the oven.

Joaquin still looked a little rough around the edges. But his haggardness was nothing compared to Cal’s. He was on his third cup of coffee, and the bags behind his glasses were so dark you’d be forgiven for assuming Wyatt had given him a pair of black eyes.

He’d only gotten a few hours of decent sleep before his phone exploded with the latest Carling family drama.