Page 24

Chapter 24

Asher

The scent of pineapple and coconut fills my office as Parker paces, anxiety rolling off him in waves.

Through the window, I watch Harlow chase Jagger around the garden while Oliver pretends to be a monster. Her laughter carries through the glass, making me smile.

Mrs. Jenkins clears her throat. “I see your omega is settling in well.”

“Did you think we were lying to you?” I lean back in my chair, studying her carefully.

“What I think isn’t important.” She shuffles papers in her lap. “But Jake is building a case that Miss Foster is actually an alpha, and your pack arrangement and her being an omega is fabricated to win custody of the child. ”

“Good.” I can’t help but smile. Remembering Harlow’s pussy clenched around my knot, proving she’s purely an omega. “That will make him look foolish in court.”

Parker stops pacing, his jaw tight. “I need to tell you about the threat.”

“What threat?” Mrs. Jenkins’s pen hovers over her notepad.

Outside, Jagger’s squeal of delight draws our attention. Harlow has him in her arms, tickling him while Oliver makes silly faces. The sight loosens something in my chest. No court could look at this and see anything but a genuine family.

“Just before Harlow’s pre-heat started.” Parker braces his hands on my desk. “Jake called. Said he’d expose our ‘fake pack’ unless I dropped the custody case.”

Mrs. Jenkins scribbles furiously. “Direct threats against the pack will not help his case. And they are unfounded, considering your pack is making steps to be legally bound.”

I hold my breath as Harlow steps through the French doors, her dark hair tousled from playing outside. The sweet vanilla in her scent mingles with mine, making my fingers twitch with the need to touch her.

She gravitates toward me without hesitation, her small hand sliding into mine. The contact sends electricity through my body, and I have to resist pulling her closer.

“So, now about the legal bonding,” Mrs. Jenkins says, watching us, clicking her pen. “Have you set the wheels in motion?”

“For the paperwork, yes,” Parker says, he glances at Harlow. “We should have the paperwork submitted very soon.”

“And claiming. You know that is more important than the paperwork. It might hold more weight in the court,” she pushes .

Parker shakes his head. “We’re not rushing anything. Harlow needs time to adjust.”

I catch the slight drop in Harlow’s shoulders, feel her fingers loosen in mine. My thumb traces circles on her palm, trying to soothe her disappointment.

Does our omega need to be claimed?

“How much time do you need, Miss Foster?” Mrs. Jenkins says, surprising me because she usually calls her by her first name, and she’s assumed that it’s Harlow holding back on being claimed.

Harlow shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t need any time. I have four alphas and you’d think they’d be climbing the walls to claim me,” Harlow whispers.

“We won’t push you,” Parker tells her.

“But you’ll push me to be legally bound to you, but not bound to your souls?”

“You have it all wrong, Harlow,” Parker says, his voice gravelly.

Harlow glances at the ceiling and shakes her head. Tears glisten in her eyes as she whispers, “Then why am I here?”

"Because you're our omega."

Harlow just stares at him.

The room goes still. Mrs. Jenkins’s pen stops moving.

Shit.

My stomach drops as I watch Parker’s face tighten. We’d carefully constructed our story around being an established pack.

“I mean they don’t have to claim me—” Harlow backpedals, her hand trembling in mine. “We are more modern than most packs.”

Mrs. Jenkins’s eyebrows rise. “Modern how?”

“Like...” Harlow’s voice gets smaller as she hitches a shoulder. “They're giving me time to choose when I want to be claimed, not doing it without my consent and—” She cuts herself off, clearly seeing Parker’s expression. “I’m just feeling emotional today. I need to lie down.”

She pulls her hand from mine and practically runs from the room.

The door barely closes when Carver appears, his coconut rum scent sharp with concern. “Why does Harlow look like she’s about to cry?”

“Later,” I mutter, watching Mrs. Jenkins scribble on her notepad.

Carver grumbles. “I’ll go see her before Oliver and I leave for training.”

I close the door on Mrs. Jenkins and rush down the hallway to Harlow’s room. She is lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling with tears still tracking down the sides of her face.

Her scent is muted, tinged with distress that makes my inner alpha want to fix whatever negative thought she is feeling.

“This is normal,” I tell her, staring at Carver, who is lying next to her, holding her tight. “You’re newly awakened and your emotions are all over. They’ll settle down soon.”

“I feel like I’m so dumb sometimes. I thought I was this intelligent alpha and all along I was just a stupid fucking omega.”

“What you said wasn’t dumb, Harlow,” Carver tells her.

“I agree with Carver. You have genuine concerns. I get it.”

“I wish my mom was still here,” she muses. “I need to talk to Freya.”

“Your mom had to go back to the east coast, but Bardot is still around for another day,” Carver tells her. “Do you want me to call her?”

She shakes her head. “I need to speak to Freya. She understands me.”

Carver glances at his watch as he looks at me. “I need to go to the stadium. It’s—”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just go.” Her voice lifts an octave.

He presses a kiss on her lips. “Sorry baby. We’ll sort it all out.”

Carver pushes off the bed, and I lay where he was. “Talk to me.” I keep my voice soft, professional. The way I speak to my clients.

“I need—” She sighs. “I’m just overwhelmed right now.”

“Can I help to relax you?”

“A massage would be nice.” She looks at me and smiles. “You’re pretty perfect, Asher.”

I laugh. “Because I give you massages?”

She shakes her head gently. “Because you know what I need.”

“Top off.”

She squeaks. “Just like that? Are you going to turn away?”

“No.” I reach for the hem but she swats my hand away and pulls her top over her head.

Harlow settles into the nest face down.

Her rich scent wraps around me, stirring a protective instinct deep within.

“Ready?” I ask, keeping my tone light. She nods but bites her lip, anxiety creeping into her gaze.

I begin with gentle pressure on her shoulders, kneading away the tight knots that cling to her muscles. A soft sigh escapes as my fingers glide over her skin, warmth radiating from her body.

“Do you like Carver?” she asks suddenly, breaking the silence .

I hesitate for a moment. “I do. And he loves you.”

“Do you think?” Her eyes search mine. “Can you see it?”

“I can.” I continue working on her back. “That man is obsessed with you.”

She sighs faintly at my words, but it doesn’t reach her eyes completely. There’s a flicker of uncertainty there that pulls at me.

As I move down to her lower back, her body responds differently to my touch. Like every stroke has awakened something inside her.

“You really think he cares that much?” she murmurs.

“More than you realize.” My hands work their magic on the knots in her back as I keep my focus steady. “He wouldn’t be so protective otherwise.”

Her breathing deepens as I apply pressure along her spine, easing the tension that feels like it’s been there for ages. Probably since Mrs. Jenkins left the house.

When I press on either side of her spine, she sighs as she arches into my touch. “Asher.”

My name on her lips is enough to make my cock harden.

I can’t do this for much longer. I’m supposed to be a professional in these moments, but my need for her is weakening my resolve.

“Your knots are gone.”

“Don’t I know it?” she says and laughs. Her hand reaches for my cock. “But this is one I don’t want you to get rid of.”

“Harlow!” I growl.

She laughs as she rolls onto her side and looks up at me with those turquoise eyes shimmering with gratitude and something more—a yearning that ignites a fire within me.

“Thank you,” she whispers softly before leaning in, brushing her lips against mine in a tender kiss .

The warmth spreads through me like wildfire as the kiss deepens, each second stretching into an eternity, but then I gently pull away. “Not now.”

“Okay.” She looks so disappointed as confusion clouds those beautiful eyes as she searches for answers in my face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

She nods as she presses her hand on her forehead. “Can you take me to visit Freya? I need…normal right now. I can get a cab if you’re busy.”

I hold out my hand. “Come on.”

Minutes later, I watch Harlow fidget with her seatbelt as we pull away from the house and drive through the winding hills, stealing glances at her profile. “Want to talk about it? The thing that’s making you doubt everything one minute and want everything the next.”

“Not really.” She manages a thin smile. “Just drive?”

Downtown LA materializes around us as gleaming buildings catch the afternoon sun, and palm trees sway in the afternoon breeze.

The traffic crawls as we pass expensive boutiques and then we hit downtown and Freya’s bakery comes into sight; its cheerful blue awning a splash of color against dull brick.

I pull into a spot, debating whether to wait in the car. But something in Harlow’s posture—the slight hesitation as she unbuckles and casts me a glance—makes me follow her inside.

The bell chimes and Freya’s copper ponytail bounces as she practically vaults over the counter. “Harlow! Oh my god!” She crushes her in a hug, then spots me. “And who’s this gorgeous specimen?”

“Freya...” Harlow warns, but there’s fondness in her voice. “You’ve already met Asher.”

“Oh yes? He’s still gorgeous.” Freya winks at me as picks up the coffee pot and pours out two coffees. “So, spill everything. Including whether that article about the omega with the implant was about you?”

Harlow’s shoulders tense. “Yeah, that was me.”

“I knew it!” Freya slides the coffee across the counter. “I mean, I always knew you were an omega. Your energy differs totally from alphas.”

“What do you mean you knew?” Harlow leans forward.

“Honey, you have the classic omega nurturing instinct.” Freya grins. “Plus, you organized my bookcase by color, coordinating the books when you were stressed. No alpha I know does that.”

We are onto our second coffee and I watch Harlow’s fingers trace the rim of her coffee cup, her turquoise eyes darting my way every few seconds.

The anxiety in her scent makes my throat tight.

A customer leaves the bakery and Freya practically vibrates with excitement as she comes to the table.

“So, four alphas? That’s like a dream. You are God's chosen one.” She pulls out her phone, tapping the screen. “Hopefully, I find the same luck. My heat is coming up next week according to my calendar.”

Harlow stiffens. “You track your cycle?”

“Of course! I’m not going into heat without knowing how I’m going to deal with it. I’m booked into the Omega Wellness Center.” Freya holds her hand over her mouth as she leans in. “I’m thinking about getting my birth control removed, too. ”

“You’re single,” Harlow whispers.

“And I will be forever …” Freya’s voice has a lot of resignation in it, but there’s some hope there, too.

Harlow glances at me. I smile in return.

“We don’t all get our ‘ happy ever after ,’” Freya says. Her pointer and middle fingers curling in the air. “And I can afford a baby…” Freya keeps talking, but all I see is Harlow.

She’s retreating into herself, shoulders hunched, scent going flat.

I pull out my phone, stepping away to call Parker.

“What?” His voice is clipped.

“You need to call Harlow. What she said earlier, about claiming her, we need to address it.”

“Later. I’m too angry right now.” The edge in his tone makes me bristle. “She almost blew our story with social services.”

“This is about more than that. She’s spiraling.”

Harlow stares at me as she whispers something to Freya.

Freya nods.

I turn away as Parker says, “This is my nephew’s future we’re talking about.”

“It’s our pack’s future too,” I snap, turning back to see Harlow frozen behind me, her coffee cup suspended halfway to her lips. The hurt in her eyes makes my chest ache. I whisper into the phone. “What if she leaves us. We’re not full scent matches. Only Carver is.”

“Oh shit!” Parker sighs.

Harlow sets down her cup on the table with careful precision. “I should go.”

“I’ll speak to you later,” I tell Parker before I disconnect.

“Harlow—” I reach for her, but she steps back.

“No, I get it. Jagger comes first. And he should.” Her voice wavers, but she still tries to give me a tight smile. “Can I get a ride home?”

“He wants you,” I say to Harlow after five minutes of silence in the car. “We all want you.”

“Parker wants everything to be legal and above board for Jagger’s sake. He wants me to sign my rights over to this pack, but I get nothing in return.”

“You get your alphas.”

“I want alphas who want me. Alphas who are desperate to claim me as theirs.”

“We do.”

She shakes her head. “Only Carver does. Your pack only wants me in the legal sense.”

“That’s not true, Harlow.”

“Then claim me,” she tests me. “Take me to my nest now, fuck me, knot me, and claim me.”

“I can’t do it without the full consent of my pack mates. You know that.”

“I do,” she whispers as her phone rings.

She pulls it out of her purse and says, “Hello.”

My fingers tighten on the steering wheel as I watch Harlow’s face drain of color. Her scent shifts from distress to pure fear, making my chest constrict.

“You can’t prove anything,” she says into the phone, her voice trembling. “I did nothing wrong.”

I press harder on the accelerator, weaving through traffic .

Something’s wrong. Very wrong.

The car’s engine roars as I take the corner too fast, but I need to get her home.

“No.” Her voice cracks. “You’re lying.”

My heart pounds against my ribs.

Every protective instinct screams at me to grab the phone, to shield her from whatever is causing that tremor in her voice.

She ends the call, her hand shaking so badly she almost drops the phone.

“That was Jake.” She stares straight ahead, her words barely audible. “If I testify, he’s going to expose the pack as fraudulent. He has evidence from when I first arrived at your home—proof I was registered as an alpha in New York and when I started the Raiders.”

My stomach plummets. The implications hit me like a punch to my stomach. Our careful plans, the custody arrangement, everything we’ve built—it could all crumble.

“He’ll have us all arrested for lying.” She wraps her arms around herself. “I can’t... I can’t be responsible for destroying everything.”

“Harlow—”

“I need to think.” She presses her forehead against the window.

The defeat in her voice tears at something deep inside me. I want to pull over, to gather her close and promise everything will be okay. But with my own scent spiking with anxiety, I know she can smell it.