Page 13 of Worthy or Knot (Serendipity Omegaverse #3)

Thirteen

COLE

T he car idles at the curb, just like it has been for the last few minutes, but the driver doesn’t seem all that impatient. I check my phone again, worried she somehow got lost or the car didn’t find the rental’s address, but there’s no new messages from her.

As I look, though, a message from Violet appears.

You going to tell me about them? Or am I going to have to fly up there to see the packet myself?

A flicker of memory from when I last saw her, when I found out the Council wasn’t going to match me after all, plays behind my eyes, just like it has since I got the packet on Monday. Suspicion grows heavier in my stomach.

You sure you need to see the packet to know about them?

The dots hover for a minute before the next text pops up.

I plead the fifth.

Did you seriously?

Our conversation must look completely outlandish to anyone looking in.

I promised you I’d fix it.

I can’t even say I’m surprised. Tell Dominic thank you.

That one of her Alphas was part of the Italian mafia is sort of an open secret in the family. Mostly, we don’t talk about it. But I guess sometimes it’s useful.

The middle-aged man driving the car quietly clears his throat. “Sir? I believe they’re here.”

My gaze flicks to the sidewalk. A few cars ahead of us, another black sedan pulls to the curb.

Text from Violet: It was actually Victor. I’ll just pretend your thanks was for me, though.

Text from Violet: You’re welcome, by the way.

I send a quick text to my sister before shoving my phone in my pocket.

Text from Cole: Remind me to never get on your bad side.

“Thank you,” I offer the driver.

He nods once.

As the back door of the other car opens, I settle the Mariners ball cap over my hair—a layer of protection to hopefully keep fewer people from noticing me—and then step out of the car and onto the busy curb.

It takes only a moment to cross to the other car.

By the time I’ve reached it, Charlotte’s tucking her phone into a small bag and turning away from the car, her gaze soaking in the entrance to Pike’s Place I’d suggested.

“Hey.” My voice is low and calm. “You made it.”

She twists, her eyes wide for a moment, before she relaxes and a radiant smile brightens her face.

Part of her dark brown hair is pulled back, leaving a few waves to frame her face while the rest cascades down her back.

Her short blue skirt and white crop top seem to glow against the dreary clouds and overcast landscape.

When I close the final bit of distance, her eyes track down my body, taking in my own outfit of jeans and a t-shirt that covers the bond scar, and her cheeks flush.

I hold out my hand in silent offer, and she doesn’t hesitate to lace our fingers together, pressing our palms flat and grabbing my elbow in her other hand, forcing me right against her side. After a moment, the soft, clean aroma of sage surrounds us. My body inherently relaxes as I breathe it in.

“Wow,” she whispers, her attention now on the large market behind me. After a minute, her nose scrunches. “There’s so much fish.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, there’s definitely a lot of vendors that sell fish here. You’ll get used to the smell after a bit, though.”

She smiles that same radiant smile. My stomach tightens in a way it hasn’t with anyone but Marcus. I want to kiss her already, learn if her lips are as soft as they look. The desire blindsides me, and I forget for a moment I’m supposed to be running this date of sorts.

She flushes before clearing her throat. “You mentioned you have a favorite coffee vendor?”

“Right.”

Mentally shaking myself, I guide us through the stalls, carefully avoiding the worst of the crowds. It might not be a sunny weekend, but that doesn’t much deter the foot traffic through here. Someone bumps into me as we round the final corner, forcing me off balance and stumbling into Charlotte.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “You okay?”

She nods, looking over her shoulder with a frown. “I’m fine,” she says. “That was rude of them, though. And that’s coming from someone who lives in New York City for crying out loud.”

I can’t help but smile at the fierce bite in her tone.

“You’re sure you’re fine?” I double check, running my gaze over her and squeezing her hand.

“Promise, Cole.” She smiles. “Coffee?”

When we round the corner and close in on the shop, the line is already snaked around twice, at least fifteen people messing around on their phones while they wait.

Charlotte leans into me as we join the line, tracing shapes on my forearm.

This little portion isn’t quite as loud as other spots, especially since there’s none of the open stall vendors here, but it’s still enough noise to have my skin crawling.

Lucky for us both that Charlotte’s an Alpha.

Her soft touch keeps me just on the edge of having a freak out over all the stimulation rather than over it.

“How long have you been dancing?” I ask after we’ve moved for the second time. If I’m going to get a headache from all the noise, I might as well learn some things about the Alpha the Council’s picked for me.

“My parents had me in basics from kindergarten, but I didn’t start ballet until I was nine. One of their friends was a dancer and occasional instructor and told them that kids tend to do better if they’re started on the older side of things.”

“Why is that?”

We move another few feet, and she presses harder into me. Is it intentional? Or is she just responding on a base level to my growing unease from standing among all these people?

“Mostly attention span, but also that a lot of kids won’t really hold onto technique until that point.” She shrugs. “So I did lots of other types of dancing but nothing as formal as ballet until my ninth birthday. Not sure any of that is true, but it’s worked well for me.”

“What’s your dream role?”

Her response is instantaneous. “Kitri from Don Quixote.” But then her nose wrinkles and her smile is more wistful. “But it’s not something I’ll ever actually be chosen for.”

I frown. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll never be principal,” she says. It’s such a calm statement, her tone nearly blasé. “And that’s the type of role that only a principal will be given.”

Confusion races through me, wearing away at my already fraying nerves. She must sense it despite my scent blockers working perfectly because she tightens her hold on my elbow and rubs her cheek against my bicep, the softest of croons falling from her lips.

She’s so tiny, especially for an Alpha.

The scent marking soothes my body, calming it enough to not have me quite so close to a panic attack. It allows me to drop my shoulders and relax my hand in my pocket so my nails are no longer digging into my thigh.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

A barista calls us forward before she can offer a response. I order my customary London fog while she orders a spicy mocha, and I have my card out before she can even offer. Her lips purse, but she doesn’t voice an objection.

We’re quiet as we wait, tucked out of the way. When a different barista calls out our names, I squeeze Charlotte’s hand and then grab both paper cups. The woman working offers me a wide smile.

“Have a good day,” she says.

Charlotte’s beside me before I can offer a polite reply, a growl ripping through her entire body as she wraps an arm around my waist and plasters herself to my side.

She’s angled herself to mostly be in front of me despite our height difference.

The flare of possession has my blood going molten and my throat drying.

No one has ever shown that level of proprietorship, hasn’t been interested enough to even try.

Well, aside from Marcus at the gala, but that was different—bonded Alphas are a force of nature.

Is it possible to want to kiss her even more? The urge to press her against the wall in this moment is nearly overwhelming, managing to drown out every stare and smell and muttered conversation.

The barista pales and drops her eyes without another word, slipping away from the counter to work on the next drink.

Charlotte takes her drink from my careful grip, not meeting my eyes.

Shaking off the near-animalistic desire to sink my dick into her, I silently guide us through various stalls until we get to one of the other entrances of the market, one of the ones that overlooks the shoreline.

The clouds have grown heavier, the promise of rain growing closer. The wind is worse, too, but not quite bad enough to cut through my shirt. Without a word, I settle onto one of the benches scattered along the street. Charlotte sits beside me, leaving a careful couple inches between us now.

“Sorry,” she says after a bit, taking a long drink of her coffee. “That wasn’t really appropriate.”

I shake my head.

“You were perfectly fine,” I assure her.

She doesn’t relax, though. I try to soothe her the way she did me with her touch earlier.

“Really, Charlotte, I don’t mind you being protective.

It’s a normal response. Some would say it’s a good thing you’re reacting that way around an Omega so soon after matching. ”

“You’re sure?”

I nod and then take her hand in mine. “I promise to never lie about something like that.”

Finally, her body softens and she leans her head against my shoulder. I manage to take a drink of the coffee.

“All of the instincts and drives are still new to me,” she says after a minute. “I didn’t expect them to be quite so potent for some reason.”

“You’ve never been with an Omega?”

“Not since I designated. My girlfriend in high school was an Omega, designated when we were fifteen. We broke up before our senior year.”

There’s a long pause. I take another sip of my own drink and focus on the ocean, letting her decide what else she may want to say.

“Marcus is the only one I’ve been with since I designated, and obviously that’s much different since he’s an Alpha and bonded to you.”