Page 10 of His Pretty Omega (Sweet Alps Mates #7)

Chapter Seven

Alex

March

Like every other day for the past eight weeks, I couldn’t concentrate.

Instead of reading over my final notes before court this afternoon, I ran a finger over the black ink on the worn piece of paper. Reading the words, even though I had memorized them by heart.

Thanks for starting my year off with a bang. It was fun!

It was fun. Seriously?

My wolf growled, agitated beneath my skin. Just like he had been agitated since the morning I had woken in the hotel room. Alone. The sheets, and my skin, still smelling of our omega. With nothing of him left behind except a hastily scrawled note.

Not even his name.

Certainly not his number.

How could we be fated and he had just left like that? No contact info. Nothing. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to wake me up and tell me good-bye. Or for us to have an actual conversation about the fact that we were fated.

Which still made dread swirl in my belly when I had to admit that he might not want me as his mate. As each day went by, it was a possibility I had to face.

I had often dreamed about the day I would meet my fated mate, never doubting that he was out there.

Granted, not everyone had a fated mate, but I had always believed I did.

I came from a long line of fated mates–my grandparents, my parents, my many aunts and uncles.

I had faith my fated was out there waiting.

But in all my daydreams, I never imagined I would find my fated in a hotel bar, well on his way to being wasted. Stealing my drink without shame, and dancing provocatively with not one but two alphas. Even now, instead of making me angry, the memory made me smile ruefully.

My fated mate was a brat through and through.

One who liked pushing the boundaries, no doubt to see who–or if anyone–would put him in his place. He needed his ass paddled, and then he needed to be cuddled .

If only I had a clue who he was or how to find him.

My abuela always told me, Alejandro, patience. Fate will make sure it works out as it should.

Bah , my wolf huffed, patience is overrated .

Tell me about it.

My attention was suddenly averted from my musings thanks to raised voices from outside my closed office door. Irene, my office manager, seldom raised her voice to anyone but me. Never clients. And I didn’t have anyone scheduled this morning, as it was a court day.

Using my shifter hearing, I stood, intent on seeing what was happening and intervening if necessary. Irene kept my office and me running smoothly, and I wasn’t about to let anyone give her any grief.

Hearing the voice, my skin prickled, all my senses coming alive.

“Look, he’ll see me, okay. It won’t take a minute, and then I’ll be gone. In and out. Poof! But, trust me, he will want to see me.”

“And I told you without an appointment, Mr…?”

“My name’s not important. I’m going in now. Byeeee!”

“Sir! Sir! I will call security!”

“Call whoever you need to, but I’m going in.”

Barely breathing, eyes wide, I watched as the knob on my door turned and then he was standing there. Like the dream I had every night, come to life .

Blinking, I was honestly shocked when he didn’t disappear like a cloud of smoke on the wind. Nope, he was still standing in the doorway, looking all kinds of sassy, yet apprehensive too. He wasn’t nearly as brave as he was trying to appear.

Irene was hot on his heels, her hands flapping and cheeks colored with angry heat.

Holding up a hand to indicate she should stop, I tried to speak.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out, at least not anything that resembled actual words.

We stared at each other, brown eyes to blue, neither of us blinking, electricity crackling between us.

Even without touching him, the air around us was charged with it.

Swallowing hard, I croaked huskily, “Irene, hold my calls.”

“Alex–” she huffed, still poised in the doorway behind… him . The fact that she had called me Alex and not Alejandro, like she normally did, told me just how off-kilter she was.

“Hold my calls,” I repeated softly.

He licked his dark reddish-purple lips tinted with that same shining gloss he had been wearing that night, but he never took his gaze from mine. Smugly, he said, “I told you he would see me.”

Tilting my head, I narrowed my eyes at him, my lips fighting a smile.

Brat .

Irene looked to me for confirmation, and I gave a slight nod of my head.

“Does your guest require anything?” Her tone was cool with a slight snip to it.

Oh, yeah, she was not happy with me. Not that I blamed her. She did her job exceptionally well, and she took being my gatekeeper seriously. And while I appreciated everything she did for me, and in keeping my office running smoothly, I needed privacy and to not be interrupted.

“Um…” this was the first time I saw a crack in his bravado armor that he had wrapped himself in, and he swallowed hard, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Could I…do you have a Sprite? Or something like that? Ginger-ale?”

Reaching into the mini-fridge I kept beside my desk, I pulled out a green can of the lemon-lime soda. Popping the top, I slid it across the desk towards him. “I have it. Thank you, Irene. Close the door, please.”

“You’ll buzz if you need anything?” She was still looking at him like she didn’t trust he wasn’t up to no good, or there to start any trouble. I had no doubt he was absolutely here to start some kind of trouble, and I was surprisingly okay with it.

“Of course,” I assured her, flashing a smile. “We’ll be fine, won’t we Mr.–?”

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders, and that mischievous gleam I remembered well lit up his eyes. Flashing Irene a smirk, he waggled his fingers at her in a slightly shooing motion, declaring, “We’ll be just fine.”

Irene gave him the stink eye, but she closed the door, a bit harder than necessary. Letting me know I’d be getting an earful later. And it didn’t escape my notice he still hadn’t supplied me with even his last name.

Waving to one of the empty chairs in front of my desk, I sat back down, leaning back casually in my leather chair. While he slid gracefully into the empty chair, reaching for the cold can and taking a sip, I observed him quietly.

He was just as beautiful as I remembered, though there was a slightly fragile air about him today.

His dark hair was styled in a messy tousle that accentuated his high cheekbones and pouty lips.

His pale skin held a slightly green tint to it, and there were dark circles bruising the delicate skin beneath his gorgeous aqua eyes.

That and him asking for the fizzy soda made me wonder if he was ill.

Concern took over my body, and I had to tamp down all my natural caregiving instincts.

Something told me he wouldn’t appreciate them at the moment.

His beautiful eyes were once again rimmed in black liner, though toned down from New Year’s.

And his ridiculously long, dark lashes were curled.

The effect made his eyes pop and drew your attention to them.

It was the only make up he was wearing today, and the scruff on his cheeks and chin said he hadn’t bothered to shave in a couple of days.

It did nothing to distract from his beauty.

In fact, I found I liked the combination of masculine and feminine he had going on.

A lot. He was dressed in pale pink scrubs, covered in cartoon kittens and puppies, the color a delicate contrast to his pale skin and dark hair.

So, he was in the medical field in some capacity.

It was the start of figuring out just who my fated was.

He sat the can of soda on the edge of my desk after taking a delicate sip, his eyes glancing around my office, taking it all in. I had about a million questions I wanted to ask him. Like how he had found me, and what his name was! But something told me I needed to wait for him to speak.

“So…” he began, then stopped, swallowing. He took a breath then blew it out.

“So?” I repeated quietly.

His brows furrowed, little grooves forming on his forehead. “You remember me, right?”

Raising a brow, I nodded. “Oh, yeah. I remember you.” Picking up the many times folded and unfolded piece of paper on my desk, I waved it in his direction. “You’re hard to forget.”

His blue eyes followed the waving paper, and I knew the instant he recognized what it was. “You kept that?”

“It was the only thing I had to remember you by.” Besides my memories, which wouldn’t leave me in peace. And the stolen pillowcase, that if I closed my eyes, I pretended I could still smell his scent on. But I wasn’t about to tell him that, because that was just weird .

“Yeah, about that,” he muttered, looking at his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

He took another deep breath, letting it out slowly.

I watched in fascination as he straightened his shoulders just like he had with Irene.

The fragility I saw was instantly replaced by a spine of steel, and when his head came up, his gaze was steady on me. And a little defiant.