Page 5 of The Honor of Being Hers (Terms of Devotion #1)

Within an hour of signing the agreement, Lauren found herself back in her hotel suite, but this time with more people than she’d expected.

William had been joined by two other men wearing OmegaSafe pins with additional credentials, while the conference coordinator, Dr. Patterson, paced near the window.

Her supervisor, Dr. Singh, a kind Beta woman who’d mentored Lauren for years, sat quietly in one of the chairs, her expression troubled.

“Dr. Patterson, Dr. Singh,” William said formally, “these are Senior Investigators Morrison and Clark from OmegaSafe headquarters.”

Behind them, Ryan stood quietly near the doorway, his tall frame somehow managing to seem smaller, less imposing.

His dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and his presence was carefully unobtrusive.

He didn’t speak during the introductions, but Lauren caught him watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

He seemed concerned, but respectful of the space she clearly needed.

Dr. Patterson turned, clearly flustered. “I don’t understand why we couldn’t handle this over the phone. Lauren’s keynote is tomorrow, and people are asking if she’s still presenting. There are rumors she’s leaving the conference entirely.”

“I’m here for now, but I’m under OmegaSafe emergency protocols,” Lauren said carefully. “There’s something wrong with my suppressants; they believe they’ve been tampered with.”

“Surely you can still present in person?” Dr. Patterson pressed. “This is a career-defining moment. We can arrange for additional security.”

“That’s not possible,” Morrison interrupted smoothly.

“Dr. Langford is under emergency protection due to a credible threat. Given the classified nature of her research, we cannot risk exposure in an unsecured environment like a conference at this moment. Not even if there is additional security present”.

Dr. Patterson blinked. “Classified? I thought this was about medical tampering.”

“The two may be connected,” Clark added. “Someone with access to Dr. Langford’s personal medical information might hope to gain access to her research. Or influence her work. We’re treating this as a potential security breach.”

The room fell silent. Lauren felt a chill run down her spine; she hadn’t considered that possibility. What if the tampering with her suppressants wasn’t about coercing her as an Omega, but merely as a means to an end?

“What about presenting remotely?” Lauren asked. “Could I participate via video conference? Or record my presentation in advance.”

Dr. Patterson looked uncertain, but Dr. Singh nodded immediately. “We can arrange that. The technical setup exists, and honestly, Lauren, your safety is more important than conference tradition.”

“We’ll also need to assign a different moderator for the sessions you were scheduled to chair,” Dr. Patterson said, finally seeming to grasp the seriousness. “Dr. Singh, could you take those on?”

“Of course,” Dr. Singh replied without hesitation.

After working out the technical details and security requirements with the investigators, Dr. Patterson left with assurances that everything would be arranged. Dr. Singh lingered, asking to speak with Lauren privately.

Once they were alone, Dr. Singh’s professional composure cracked slightly.

“Lauren, I owe you an apology,” she said quietly.

“I pushed you to attend this conference because I thought you needed encouragement to step out of your comfort zone. It never occurred to me that you might have legitimate safety concerns about public appearances. Concerns that are merely amplified due to your designation as an Omega. I should have listened when you expressed hesitation.”

Lauren felt something ease in her chest. “You couldn’t have known—”

“I should have asked,” Dr. Singh interrupted gently. “You’re brilliant, and your work deserves recognition, but not at the cost of your well-being. I’m sorry for not being more thoughtful about your circumstances.”

“Thank you,” Lauren said, meaning it. “For understanding.”

An hour later, they were in a convoy of two cars heading to Lauren’s apartment. The building was in an upscale part of the city, a converted Victorian mansion divided into spacious flats. Lauren’s was on the top floor, with high ceilings and large windows that filled the space with light.

“This is beautiful,” Tyler said as they entered, taking in the built-in bookshelves and carefully chosen furniture.

“Thank you,” Lauren replied, feeling oddly proud. She’d worked hard for this space, this independence.

They helped her pack efficiently, a week’s worth of clothes, research materials, and personal items that would make the estate feel more like home. Tyler pointed to a small succulent plant on her kitchen windowsill.

“Would you like to bring him too?” he asked gently.

“Would that be okay?”

“Of course. We want you to feel at home.”

William ensured her laptop and research materials were properly secured while Lauren gathered photos and the throw blanket from her couch—soft things that smelled like home.

The drive to the estate took them through rolling countryside, past stone walls and ancient oak trees.

The leather seats were buttery soft beneath her, and Lauren found herself relaxing despite everything, lulled by the rhythm of the car and Tyler’s quiet humming from the driver’s seat.

Something classical was playing and it soothed her enough that the tension drained from her shoulders.

“It’s beautiful out here,” she said as they turned through wrought-iron gates.

“Wait until you see the gardens,” Tyler replied, warmth in his voice making her chest flutter.

The estate was larger than she’d expected, built of honey-colored stone with ivy climbing the walls. It looked like something from a period drama, all mullioned windows and graceful proportions.

“The OmegaSafe wing is here,” William said, leading her through a side entrance. “Separate from the main house but connected by covered walkways.”

He showed her through common areas that smelled of beeswax and fresh flowers: a library with floor-to-ceiling windows and Persian rugs soft underfoot, a sitting room with overstuffed chairs arranged around a fireplace where the leather was worn smooth by use, a conservatory filled with plants that caught the afternoon light and made the air humid and green.

“You’re welcome in any of these spaces,” William said. “The scent cancellers are built into the ventilation system, so you won’t be overwhelmed.”

“And this is the kitchen,” Tyler added, pushing open a door to reveal a space that was somehow both professional and homey.

Copper pots hung from hooks, and the marble countertops showed the patina of regular use.

“We take turns cooking, but there’s always something available if you prefer to eat alone.

” His fingers brushed the edge of a well-worn wooden cutting board as he spoke, the gesture unconsciously gentle.

Ryan spoke for the first time since they’d arrived. “I usually handle breakfast prep. Early riser.” His voice was carefully neutral, but there was something almost apologetic in his tone.

Lauren nodded, taking it all in. It was beautiful, yes, but also carefully designed for her comfort. She could feel the thought that had gone into every detail.

After settling her things in her suite, they gathered in the sitting room again. William produced another folder from a side table— it was thicker than she’d expected.

“You mentioned the more intimate protocols earlier,” William said directly. “This contains those agreements.”

Lauren accepted the folder, relieved that he wasn’t dancing around the subject. She opened it and began reading.

The document was comprehensive. Physical comfort measures included hand-holding, embracing, deliberately leaving scent traces, and potential shared sleeping arrangements, all with explicit consent requirements and safe words.

She paused at the disciplinary section, reading through protocols for structured correction—verbal guidance, physical consequences, including spanking when explicitly agreed to, all within carefully defined parameters and safety measures.

“The spanking protocols are very detailed,” she observed, not looking up from the page.

“They need to be,” Tyler said quietly. “It’s about providing security and grounding; they may be a form of punishment, but they are never meant to harm you.”

Ryan shifted slightly in his chair. “We wanted to be thorough. To make sure you felt safe with any boundaries you might want to explore.”

Lauren’s head snapped up, something sharp in her expression. “You wanted to be thorough? This isn’t about what you wanted, Ryan. This is about what I might need.”

The room went very quiet. Ryan’s face flushed slightly, and he nodded once. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I meant—we wanted to make sure you had options. Though the choice is entirely your own.”

William stepped in smoothly. “All of these protocols are optional. You can select some, none, or add others. And Ryan is only included if you specifically agree to his participation.”

Later, after they’d left her to consider the additional agreements, Tyler found her in the conservatory.

She was sitting in a wicker chair surrounded by ferns and flowering vines, the second folder still in her lap.

The air was warm and humid here, scented with jasmine and something earthy that reminded her of greenhouse visits as a child.

“Is it okay if I sit here with you?” he asked. “Or would you prefer to go somewhere else?”

“Here is fine,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her.

Tyler settled himself carefully, his long legs folding gracefully. He didn’t crowd her space but sat close enough that his calming presence reached her, close enough that she could catch the subtle scent of cedar and something clean that was purely his.

“This is overwhelming,” Lauren admitted after a moment.

“I imagine it is,” he replied. “You’ve had a lot thrown at you in the past twenty-four hours.”

“It’s not just the agreements,” she said, fingering the edge of the folder. “It’s the whole situation. Ryan being here. This scent match thing. I spent years building a life where I didn’t have to think about any of this.”

Tyler was quiet for a moment, considering. “What did you think about instead?”

“My work. My research. Problems I could solve with logic and data.” She looked up at him. “Problems that made sense.”

“And we don’t make sense?”

Lauren almost smiled. “Not remotely.”

“That’s fair,” Tyler said, and his gentle humor made something loosen in her chest. “We probably don’t make sense to ourselves half the time.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, surrounded by the green growing things and the soft sound of water from a small fountain in the corner.

“Can I ask you something?” Lauren said eventually.

“Anything.”

“Why are you being so careful with me? All of you, but especially you and William. You barely know me.”

Tyler considered this, his hazel eyes thoughtful as his therapist’s training became evident in the way he weighed his words. He had the kind of face that invited confidences—gentle features that seemed incapable of judgment, the sort of quiet strength that made people feel heard.

“Because,” he said finally, “we can feel how much courage it took for you to be here. And because Ryan has spent close to a decade regretting how he treated you and trying to make up for what he did. We won’t make the same mistakes.”

That did something to Lauren’s chest—a tightening that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“He’s really been trying to make amends?”

“More than you know,” Tyler said softly. “But that’s his story to tell, when you’re ready to hear it.