Page 55 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Thirty-Five

Morgan

I exited my omega-only ride share wearing the jeans and black sweater I’d reserved for socializing—and look, here I was, going out on a not-date in San Diego on a Friday night. With Alijah, my not-boyfriend, who was very much still pissed at me.

What could possibly go wrong?

My phone vibrated. It was a phone emoji from Wyatt with a question mark. I dialed him right away.

“Baby,” he purred into my ear. “Your text this morning sure kicked the hornet’s nest. Joaquin got into it with me, then Owen got into it with him.

And don’t tell them I told you, but Owen said he’s going to try therapy.

You know the garbage our mom spews about emotions and touchy-feely stuff… It’s monumental. Beyond huge.”

“What?” I’d expected my message might cause some friction, but outright chaos? Not so much.

“Yeah. Quite the fireworks show. Oh, and guess whose squad’s killer start to their season is getting featured on the news? One clue—his pheromones are your favorite.”

I had to laugh. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“Nope. No starting flirty shit when I can’t get to you.”

“You won’t perish before Sunday night.”

“Maybe. But I’ve done my time.” Despite the certainty in his voice, it still hitched at the end. “No more waiting.”

“Agreed,” I said tenderly.

A splash of pink distracted me—soft and bright—glowing through a window decorated with frosted evergreen trees. It took a moment to register that the name on the window matched the restaurant where Alijah was waiting for me.

“I hate to do this,” I said to Wyatt as I stopped outside the front door, “but I need to let you go.”

“Yeah,” he teased. “Joaquin told me all about Alijah’s plans for your big date.”

“Wyatt.” My warning fell flat.

“Have fun.” Amorous laughter stroked my ear. “Be naughty—within reason. And tell Alijah I said hi.” With a noisy, wet smack against the receiver, Wyatt hung up.

What a delightful idiot.

Alijah should prove to be far more refined company. At least until I ruined the evening with a rejection. I’d been stringing him along for ages, hoping he’d realize that I wasn’t worth the hassle—or the literal headaches—and move on.

I couldn’t deny that his mere presence brought me comfort. That a simple smile was enough to brighten my mood. Or that I had regular flashbacks to my mouth and hands traveling over his trim body. The intensity of his kisses still made me shiver.

But I couldn’t trust myself not to hurt him. Alijah had already suffered enough.

Tonight, I had to make things clear. No more kicking the can down the road.

Mini pep talk complete, I reached for the door handle.

Before I could open it, my phone vibrated with another text from Wyatt.

Forgot to tell you—Owen talked to Alijah. That was the whole reason I called.

Thanks. I’ll text you later.

Night baby.

“Table for one?” the hostess asked as I entered the French restaurant.

“My party has already been seated,” I said, nodding toward a table by the window, where Alijah sat, trying to catch my attention with small, eager waves. His pink polo shirt wasn’t exactly easy to overlook. “Thank you.”

Our table had two place settings, but five beverages. Waters for both of us, a pair of dark red cocktails—no doubt virgin for me—and a mug of Earl Grey tea, according to the tag. Nice and bitter, just the way I liked it.

Even if I was still irked with a certain tea-scented alpha.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I ordered a bit of everything.” Alijah pointed to the menu as I sat down. “Today’s special is salmon and lentils. You like that sort of thing, don’t you?”

Why the abrupt and blatant pandering after avoiding me all day?

He gave me an entreating smile. “Do you want a cup of French onion soup?”

Another ill-advised attempt to grease my wheels.

Folding my arms on the table, I leaned closer and said, “All right, out with it.”

Alijah’s grip tightened on the menu, wrinkling the paper, unduly tense.

“I…want to apologize. Owen called and explained—well, not everything, but enough for me to get the gist. It sounds like you’ve been dealing with an absolute nightmare.

” He ran a finger along the creased menu, failing to smooth the paper back out.

“And thanks for sticking up for me. Joaquin filled me in. What made you think of answering Owen’s silence with silence? ”

Relieved that there seemed to have been a breakthrough with their pack’s communication, I leaned back in my chair and answered honestly.

“Sometimes, the only way to deal with a stubborn jerk is to mirror their nonsense. It’s a tactic my older brother, Ethan, specializes in.

Be thankful you missed the summer that Rory got obsessed with water conservation.

Little punk tried to convert us into taking one-minute cold showers.

Ethan took him up on it. I’ve never been so thankful to have lost my sense of smell. ”

“Oh.” Alijah blinked. “That’s…”

“Gross but effective.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.” He grimaced. “I thought it might be more like how you handle Garvey. You know, game face.”

“Not really, but I can see why you’d think that way.”

“I don’t like Garvey.” The poor menu became even more crinkled. “How he talks to you, the things he says when he thinks no one’s listening. The way he looks at you.”

“You know I don’t let that bother me.”

At least, that’s what I wanted him to think.

For all his sweetness and understanding, Alijah was a male beta and could never fully comprehend life as a female omega, no matter how much I tried to explain. Even Papa and Jacobi still had blind spots. Grace was the only person in my life who truly understood.

Alijah picked at the creased paper. “He makes me sick. And I… I know about omega discrimination and sexual harassment. Taken all the training. Watched the videos. But it’s different, seeing it happen to you and being unable to do anything.

” His voice deepened, dropping down to a near-whisper. “I hate it.”

The server approached. Alijah’s demeanor brightened as he sat up straight. Reliable boy scout mode activated, he offered plenty of seemingly genuine smiles and gratitude while ordering the mussels with a side of truffle fries.

It was a near-perfect performance. If I didn’t know him better, I might have believed the switch was real, but my professional mask was more fine-tuned than his.

He was still upset about Garvey’s behavior during practice yesterday and worried about the implications of the pheromone bomber.

I ordered the salmon special. Not because I wanted it, but my head was already pounding, and risking anything with more spice wouldn’t bode well for the rest of the evening.

Once the server was a safe distance away, I countered, “Are all your coworkers polite to betas?”

“No, of course not. Why?”

“Piper had a real bitch of a dance teacher when she was younger.” Taking a sip of my drink, expecting the tart bite of cranberry, I swallowed my surprise at the overly sweet maraschino cherry and sour citrus.

Was that fucking grapefruit? At least the disgust in my next words came naturally.

“I mean, nasty piece of work. Got on her about her weight all the time. Her hips were too stiff. She was too tall because she was a beta. That her nose was too big.”

“What?” His hand shot forward, gripping my wrist. “I love your nose. Er, noses. You know what I mean.” Tentative fingers rubbed the back of my hand. “Oh, I would have—there’s no way… Surely, your parents did something.”

I nodded, sliding the mocktail to the side—and my hand away from Alijah’s touch. “Mom wrote a strongly worded letter and enrolled Piper in a different class.”

“That’s it?” Disbelief steamrolled his features.

“It was a life lesson.” I tapped a fingertip against the table for emphasis. “One I firmly believe in. Focus on what you can control, and—”

“The rest will sort itself out,” he said with a playful smile. “You’ve told me that before.”

“I have?” Fantastic. Nothing undermines solid advice like giving it twice. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s worth repeating.”

“And repetition doesn’t detract from the moral of the story. Piper got the last laugh. You don’t become a principal ballerina for the Belcrest Ballet with stiff hips.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” Alijah took a long sip of his cocktail, wincing as the discordant sweet-and-sour notes hit him square in the taste buds.

Ordering wine in a place like this was a safer bet.

“I get the usual passive-aggressive nonsense,” he said.

“That betas do good work, but never great work. I didn’t get that theatre communications job because they claimed betas don’t have the same emotional depth as alphas, so I could never adequately capture the essence of true art.

But I took it on the chin. Now, I’m just waiting for the perfect opportunity to come along. ”

He risked a second sip, hand trembling slightly, then cleared his throat. Even so, his voice was tight. “So, what do I get? What’s my reward for being so patient?”

“That depends,” I said, fingers digging into my thigh beneath the table, trying to remain calm and receptive. “Is there something in particular you want?”

“To date you,” he said with a surprising amount of certainty, then rushed on.

“On the down-low, of course. With or without Joaquin, so long as we can try. That’s what I want.

To see what happens, because I think we’d be good together.

I can take care of you like Kelsey does.

Handle the food and domestic stuff. I could even manage your bills down the road if you’re comfortable with it. Just…make life easier for you.”

“It sounds like an uneven relationship to me.”

Exactly like my current situation with Kelsey. A co-dependence that I was increasingly determined to change, even if it accidentally resulted in all the utilities being disconnected for non-payment in the process. I didn’t want to swap my selflessly dutiful sister for an overly indulgent boyfriend.

It wasn’t fair.