Page 4

Chapter 4

Apollo

Did this man just tell me I look like crap? I almost want to feel offended, only if he wasn’t most likely correct. I study his face that bears no sign of any ulterior motives. Actually, he looks a little too honest. Still, I shift my gaze to the cigarettes poking out of the carton, feeling the temptation grow inside me.

It’s been a long while. Jasper hates it when I smoke. He’d smack it out of my hand anytime he’d see me with one, but…he isn’t here right now. And I’ve had a shit night I don’t want to think about.

So, I accept, and pull one out. Thankfully, my hand isn’t as shaky as before. He passes me the lighter and the moment I hear it click and feel the flame against my skin, my body flushes with endorphins at the mere anticipation of the incoming nicotine.

I return his lighter and lean back with a deep sigh. Feels good.

Closing my eyes, I focus on the smoke inside my mouth, swishing it around before puffing it out. The chilly night air stings against my hot face, but it’s getting better. The echoes of all those touches and forceful kisses slowly evaporate, too, though my mind won’t stop racing until after I have a shower. But that could wait this time. I just had to get out of there.

A sense of discomfort suddenly creeps back, so I quickly open my eyes to find the man looking at me. He flares his nostrils when he notices I caught him and blinks away.

I’m too done today to even have the energy to act nice, so I snort. “What is it?” I ask. Is it that I’m drenched in that alpha’s pheromones? It was like he was trying to make me choke on them, but my mind must have zoned it out after a while. I didn’t realize it’s so bad until now.

He raises his brows and somewhat sheepishly shakes his head. “Oh nothing, it’s just…your scent. It’s pretty unique. It…” he says, mutters more like, before sticking his cigarette back into his mouth, almost as if to shut himself up.

My face contorts into a sour grimace before I can even be amused by his awkwardness. Right. Of course. It’s always this.

With a frown, I look out at the evening sky with not a single star in sight.

Is there even a point of being frustrated that I can never escape this? After all, it’s what makes so many of them seek me out over and over again. It’s always about my pheromones. I’ve lost count of the number of gross, frustrating, touchy men that had called me Sugar , or ‘their sweet treat’.

No matter what I do, every time another venus meets me, my lovely scent of cinnamon sugar is the first thing they notice. Only to get blinded, infatuated, possessive…like a fly circling a fresh scoop of ice cream.

“It’s sweet and enticing. Yeah, yeah. I don’t need to hear your musings about it,” I grumble quietly. Right away I feel stupid and childish for lashing out at this man I don’t even know, but I’m too tired to put on the mask of decency.

He’s one of Jasper’s goons, after all, isn’t he? I expect a snort or a frustrated grunt, but instead, he slumps his shoulders and looks down like a kicked puppy.

“I wasn’t gonna— I was just gonna say it reminds me of when I was little. My mom used to make me pancakes with cinnamon sugar. It’s a…comforting smell, I guess. Though, you obviously don’t care about that. I get it. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I stare at him with bated breath.

That’s it?

Blinking sharply, I lick my lips before throwing the finished cigarette down. He tries his best to ignore my gaze, but I study him anyway.

Then, something else hits me. I lean in toward him, sniffing unabashedly. That finally makes him look up with a somewhat worried grimace. I thought he was a beta. All the other times when he was waiting outside Jasper’s office, or even when I came out here, there were no pheromones in the air. I would usually notice a new scent. This one…

I move even closer, narrowing my eyes. “How can you smell my pheromones?” I ask, now feeling stupid for a completely different reason. I’m covered in another man’s scent, yet he registered my own beneath it all.

He parts his plump lips and in the moment of surprise; I recognize that familiar discomfort in his gaze. Oh?

“I’m, um, an omega,” he says in a choked tone, quickly clearing his throat.

I raise my brows, still staring at him. It might be purely my ignorance, but I never would’ve expected an omega in a position like this. It’s almost unheard of. “Huh…” I mutter pensively and lean back away from him, resting against my propped up arm.

“I think I know what’s going through your head right now,” he says with a smirk that hides some bitterness. The worst thing? I understand the reason behind that bitterness. I feel it. Because we’re the same. We’re both omegas.

The realization weirdly shakes me. I flash him an apologetic smile before biting down on my lip nervously. I can empathize with this guy I thought was something different entirely.

“Hasn’t always been easy to pave my way, but…I manage. Mostly,” he says with a chuckle, playing with the burnt out cigarette between his fingers.

I study him in a completely new light. So many alphas think of omegas as inherently weak and passive. It’s a harmful stereotype for the most part, sure, but it isn’t completely unfounded. More people than would like to admit believe in it deep down. Yet here he is…

He’s tall, and his shoulders are quite broad, so I suppose he fits in with the muscular guys who do Jasper’s dirty work well enough.

Must feel strange. I can’t imagine being in his position.

Frowning, I lean toward him again. This time, he doesn’t seem as uncomfortable. I feel like a wild animal sniffing out the pheromones of a stranger, but the effort I have to put in to get a whiff of them is unusual. No wonder, since usually it’s a bit harder for omegas to smell other omega’s pheromones. They’re definitely not as striking as when one comes in contact with an alpha.

“I use light suppressants,” he notes calmly. “Makes life easier.”

Once again, a warm sense of understanding spreads through me. “I’m sure it does,” I say in a low voice, still trying to put my finger on it. Though faint and hard to notice, his unique scent is there. He can’t hide it completely. “It’s like…muddy…wet pine cones.” I finally make it out.

Taking a suppressant to dampen his pheromones probably makes it easy for most to ignore or partially forget about what he is. Who he is. He nearly fooled me. Even the most toxic, annoying alphas will find it easier to treat him like a beta, like their equal, instead of seeing and sensing nothing but an omega. Especially with all the negative stereotypes attached to being one living in their heads.

“We know which of us drew the short stick,” he says with a playful, almost shy chuckle.

The way he doesn’t fit into this role at all gets more and more obvious as I see that innocent smile of his. What the hell is he doing here? Or is that my bias about who or what he should be like? Just because he’s an omega, he should be soft and meek?

Thinking about all that makes my head hurt.

I cross my legs while pulling away. I realize we don’t even know each other’s names, but surely, he has to be aware of mine. He’s been here for a few weeks. “Do you know my name?” I ask. A part of me wants to see that nervous scrambling of his again.

My prayers are answered when he blinks to the side and shifts in place uncomfortably. He shakes his head. “I didn’t really catch it, even though people talk about you often.”

I smile. Look at him sweating for no reason . “It’s Apollo. What is it that people say about me?” I ask, looking down on him with my chin up and cheek resting against my shoulder. “Come on. Give it to me straight.”

He glances at me, dubious about whether I’m trying to lead him into a trap. Still playing with the cigarette bud, he looks down and smacks his lips before braving to face me again. “I know you’re a fan favorite in the Dollhouse. A hot commodity, as some put it,” he notes quietly.

What he said could hurt me, if I let it. I don’t. Instead, I see it for what it is—me being the best at my job I can be. Me being useful. That’s much better than being nobody. Nothing .

“Is that actually your name? Apollo?”

His curious question surprises me. No one’s ever asked me that before. Mainly because it’s pretty obvious it isn’t. Also, because no one actually cares. “It’s the name I gave myself,” I say. Not entirely a lie. Jasper was the one to suggest it, but I chose it.

For some reason, the way this conversation is headed accentuates the cold of the air around us. I feel it creep into my bones and inside my chest, nipping at my heart. These things I haven’t thought about for so long and topics I haven’t spoken about with anyone else threaten to become too sensitive. “And your name?” I ask to shift the talk in a new direction—away from me.

“Kobe,” he says, meeting my eyes. His gaze stays full of genuine interest and none of the hungry lust I’m used to.

How sad is it that I almost find it unnatural to interact with another person like this?

“I transferred, I guess you could say, from another group. I’m mostly just a driver for the Boss. He’s um… You’re obviously his favorite, too, with how often you get called in.”

It doesn’t sound like a dig the way he says it, so I give him a benefit of the doubt. Usually, I don’t go around telling everyone, especially Jasper’s underlings, that I’m more than his whore, but for some reason, I feel comfortable to clarify to Kobe. “It’s not like that. We’re…partners. We live together. We just have a somewhat open relationship when it comes to work. Obviously…”

Kobe’s eyes dart across my face in surprise.

“Oh! Huh… It’s hard to imagine an alpha like him sharing their omega,” he says lightly.

The warmth drains out of my cheeks. Instead, a prickly, cold sensation passes through me in waves. “I’m not anyone ’s omega or property,” I say in a stern voice. The anger always living at the very bottom of my soul becomes restless, and I hate that.

This is the thing with being vulnerable around people.

He opens his mouth sharply, realizing his mistake, but I don’t want to listen to him anymore. I stand up and walk to the door, feeling as suffocated and needing to escape just like I did when rushing here.

“Thanks for the cigarette,” I mutter without turning back and slip out.