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Chapter ten

Clay

The gentleman in me is screaming as he watches Roan wipe down another table. She is not only a guest, but our Omega. We should be working while she enjoys a cup of tea and another slice of pie or cake. She certainly shouldn't be helping us close up shop.

But I can't say I hate it. Seeing the sleepy side of her, yawning and rubbing her eyes, is adorable, and it makes me want to bundle her up and drag her to our bed for a good snuggle.

My own yawn punctuates that thought. I'm dreading my alarm clock in the morning. As successful as this impromptu poetry night was, I am not planning a repeat any time soon. Mitch stacks up the last plate to be run through the dishwasher and ties off the compost bag filled with coffee grounds.

“You did great tonight,” I say to Roan again. “I can't wait to see whatever else you create.”

“Thank you.” She smiles. “I think tonight was a smashing success for you as well. The poems were surprisingly good.”

“Don't lie,” Mitch calls out. “Flora’s poem made no sense.”

“It rhymed at least,” she says. “And it's not about critique, we're just here to facilitate a sense of trust and free expression.”

“So diplomatic,” Mitch groans, leaning over the coffee bar.

I give him a look, one that I hope conveys steering the conversation back to our original plan of asking Roan out on a date. Even after the bumbling invitation last week, she's been firmly avoiding us. Tonight is the first real time we've had with her.

“Had you met a pack of Wolven before coming to town?” I ask, trying as ever to play it cool.

“None that comes to mind. Leonids, Shifters, Orcs, and Vampires, sure.” She shrugs a little. “I get the impression city life isn't for most monsters.”

She’s not wrong. A lot of our kind don’t fit into the cramped spaces of human-built cities.

There are a few around the world where monsters can travel with ease, but they’ve never really appealed to either of us.

When we used to talk about taking a vacation, it was always to somewhere even more remote than this, somewhere we didn’t have to see anyone else, do any customer service, or wear clothes.

Would we move for our Omega?

“Is city life for you?” Mitch asks.

Roan pauses, fingers rubbing over the microfibre cloth she’s holding. “I don’t know,” she answers after a short while. “I grew up, went to school, worked, all within a few kilometres of each other. I could walk to the shops or cycle down to my agent’s office.”

“Not so different than us, then,” he jokes. “It’s what makes Hallow’s Cove so nice. Even as we get more and more tourists, we keep things small and easy.”

“There are a few hole-in-the-walls around town.” I edge a bit closer to her, and Mitch does the same. “We’d be happy to take you out to ‘em sometime?”

The look we get is confused, to say the least. Roan’s cheeks are tinged pink and her eyes are wide. What is she thinking? Is she embarrassed to be asked out by me? By us?

“Um—”

“Like a date with us, Roan, not like friends or casual or whatever.” Mitch’s rushed explanation rises with the spike of burnt vanilla in his scent.

She looks a little relieved by his words, but her blush has spread to her ears.

She blinks a few times, like she’s trying to figure out how serious we are, and I wish I could read minds so I could ease whatever thoughts are running through her head.

“Only if you want, but we’d really like to take you out. ”

“Can I answer you tomorrow?” she asks, her soft voice barely a whisper.

“Course, sugar,” I say, taking a step back. “Do you need a ride home or anything?”

“No, Maisie offered to drive me already.”

We’ve already agreed to take the painting back to the Art Centre tomorrow, so Roan simply throws her backpack over her shoulder and waves as we watch her walk outside and turn towards the Bookstore.

Is it murder if I kill Ted for being loud and annoying right as I open the shop, or would I be doing a public service to the town? If he points one more furry finger at the portrait of Connie, I’m not liable for where this coffee pot lands.

“I’m just saying, Clay, that ain’t what she looks like. She’s got… stuff,” he says, waving his hands like he knows anything about art. The painting looks exactly like the Orc.

“Connie seemed more than pleased with it last night,” I grumble, taking another sip of my coffee. My nose wrinkles. I’m missing my Beta’s special touch. This cup is bitter and not the sweetness I’m craving this morning. “Which you’d know if you’d been here for the poetry reading.”

“Look, some of us have bills to pay and customers to serve.” He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be a dick, Ted,” Jeremy grunts.

“You’d know all about that, kid,” he taunts back.

“Would y’all just shut your pie holes?” I demand, eyes burning as I try once again to rub the sleep away from them.

Mitch and I spent most of the evening too anxious to sleep.

Our Omega’s reaction to being asked out was unsettling.

And while I wasn’t expecting her to jump for joy right into our bed, I was sorta expecting a bit more of an answer.

If we’d asked last week as planned, I’m not sure we’d have gotten a yes, but at least we wouldn’t be waiting.

While I can keep my feelings quieter, letting the resignation to her rejection settle in my gut, Mitch isn’t taking the waiting well.

He has always been much more optimistic and hopeful.

Not knowing is eating him up. I had to practically pin him to the mattress last night just to get him in bed.

He had so much nervous energy, threatening to wear holes in our floorboards with his pacing.

The timer by the kitchen door goes off, and I head back to pull a few trays of buns and croissants out of the oven.

The flaky, buttery crusts are beautiful, perfect with years of practice.

This sort of order usually keeps my mind settled, but now the pastries just seem boring.

They are missing a zing that I can’t deny I’m craving.

Just as I pull a fresh punnet of blueberries out of the fridge, Mitch stumbles in through the back door.

He’s got my old high school hoodie on and a pair of slippers on instead of his shoes.

His copper fur sticks out in odd places, but with the way he’s still running his paws over his face, it’s not going to be styled any time soon, either.

His glasses are askew, their arms not secure around his ears, but resting just underneath.

I take off my gloves and pull my sleepy Beta into me.

He smells like the sweetness I’m needing this morning, and I don’t miss the way his tail lazily wags when we share our scents.

I hook his glasses up and around his ears where they’re supposed to be.

He kisses me softly, if not a little sadly.

There’s no resisting the need I feel for another hug, to feel my mate in my arms as the chance to have this with our other mate hangs in the balance.

“Deep breaths, sunshine,” I whisper. “Do you want to pull up a seat while I get Ted’s order ready?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

Mitch shuffles out to grab one of the stools we keep tucked behind the coffee counter, only to come running back in like the building’s on fire. He rips the fresh pair of gloves from my paws and throws them away.

“Hey!”

“She’s here,” he says, tugging hard on my hands.

The defeat that I resigned myself to twists into knots in my gut.

I swallow, trying to stop bile from rising into my throat.

We walk back out into the cafe, and there she stands next to the small display fridge, staring at the bottles of juice and overnight oats.

The bluish lights illuminate the dark circles under her eyes, telling me none of us got the sleep we really need.

Despite my own exhaustion, those Alpha instincts rise up from my hindbrain, and I’m speaking before I mean to.

“You should still be in bed, sugar,” I chastise Roan. “Did you cycle here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she murmurs, a sheen of sweat across her temples.

“Do you want to talk somewhere private?” Mitch asks, side-eyeing Ted, who couldn’t look more obvious about snooping if he was carrying a microphone.

“Do you?” she asks quickly, her chest rising as she breathes a bit heavily.

“No,” I say, sensing the apprehension in her voice.

I’m not sure what it’s about, but whatever her answer is, the two patrons at the café aren’t going to bother us.

This is it. We waited, and I’d wait a month of Sundays for our Omega, but I need to lay out our plan for her.

We’ve done this all backwards, because even with Mitch’s impulsiveness, I can’t stop myself from joining him when it comes to asking our mate out.

The knots in my stomach twist tighter, and I have to fight to get the words out. “We’d like to officially start courting you, to join our pack, Roan. Can we take you out to dinner?”

Just like last night, her eyes go big, but her lips part with shock. She looks between us, a strange, fresh note in her scent as she adjusts her backpack. Nerves crawl up my spine like annoying bugs, and Mitch isn’t doing much better next to me. His tail is stiff and tucked against his back leg.

She takes a final look from me to Mitch. “You both want to date me?”

“We want to do more than date you, darlin', but we can start there,” Mitch assures her, with a flirty wink that makes her blush.

“It’s how Wolven packs work. Three is sort of our magic number.”

She sets a hand on the counter, and exhales a huge sigh of relief. Followed by a nervous chuckle, and then a giggle so bright that it makes my world feel at peace. Mitch’s tail starts to wag, thumping against mine.

“So is this a yes?” Mitch asks.

“Yes, I'd very much like to be courted, or whatever,” she grins, the curl of her lip calling to me. Elation is a heady feeling. One little success on our long plan to get Roan to stay with us forever, and I’m ready to scoop her up and taste her right here on the counter.

“I don’t suppose you’d have a cuppa now, though? ”

“Yeah, I can have a coffee.” Mitch eagerly jumps behind the espresso machine and turns it on to start building up pressure. “Have a seat on one of the couches, and I’ll bring ‘em over for us.”

She doesn’t move right away, her eyes snagging on me.

My fingers itch with the need to pull her softness into me.

I want to feel her against me, warm and comforting, for just a moment, to let go of all of the stress and nerves that had built up while we waited, but I can feel Ted burning holes into my back.

Instead, I settle for a little hand-holding.

I wrap her small fingers between mine and let my hindbrain have this one little pleasure.

I kiss the back of her hand, breathing in the sweet smell of blueberries.

“Y’all go get cosy,” I explain. “I’ve got some work to do.”

A little pout pulls at her bottom lip, and already I know I’m in trouble. I want to take hold of her again, but I want to bite and suck on that pouty lip too while my knot is stretching her pussy out as she comes over and over again. “Better put that away before I give ya something—”

Mitch coughs loudly before I say something I shouldn’t, but that doesn’t change the fact it turns Roan on.

Her blueberry scent is thick and heavy with need.

It’s going to be a special kind of torture for our Beta to have to sit there politely while she smells like dessert.

I can’t tear my eyes off hers, and the tired and hungry look in them that calls to the feral side of me.

“How much milk, Roan?” Mitch asks, setting a steaming mug of tea next to his coffee.