Page 27 of The Gift
And then she stops talking and looks at me. Now, Bailey might be an omega and they’re supposedly weak, but without a word of a lie, this woman could stop the world with one of those looks. Clearly. She’s stopped my world from turning the instant her photo landed on my desk months ago. And for the love of fucking god-knows fucking what, I have to pretend she is neither an omega nor the most drop-dead, stunningly beautiful, alluring person I’ve ever laid my eyes on. And don’t get me started on her scent. Even hidden and diluted it makes my mouth water.
It’s hard. So is my cock, every time I’m alone and visualise her.
I smile like a kid that got caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Hamming up the way I look like I’m wallow in guilt, hoping for her sympathy for only a second or two. And then, I let her in on the rest of it. The play and smile dropping away.
“You’re right, I do know better. And I’d never put any person in that position. She’s with her pack, Bailey, which is why we’re out here and they’re in there.”
“You lied to me?” She blazes still.
“Nah,” I look off to the side, shaking her words out of my head. Because what she says evokes a response in me that I need to ignore.
“You did!”
“I bent the truth. I thought you needed a reminder.”
“Of what?”
“Of what my pack will do to ensure that any omega we find is safe. And that they maintain full control in how they want things to pan out. If they want us to jump, Henley, Reno, Koda, and I will be hopping around in fucking circles with white fluffy cotton tails and floppy ears. They want to teach us how to make pasta. I’m getting printed team aprons made before we start. We do this their way, and I will not allow their wishes to be compromised.”
“You could have led in with that, Ashton.” Her lip rises on one side, like she’s about to growl, but it’s residual anger, not burning, stabby fury anymore.
“Could have. But like we’ve said all along, there is a big difference between what people read and hear, as to what they see and experience for themselves.”
“I’ve yet to see her to know the accuracy of that statement,” she bites back.
“Untrue. She didn’t want a circus in there. She stated her two lovers would be there, she said she’d call when she’s ready. All verbs.”
“So you say. As yet all I’m getting is typical alpha talk.”
“Again, Bailey, I wasn’t talking about Jenna, or any other omega we find. I was talking about my pack. Alphas and packs have been smeared by a tainted brush, and I can assure you we are not like the sensationalised bad examples you keep reporting on, or even recently met. We never have been, and if for one damn second it looks like that’s the way we’re going, we’d disband.”
“That’s honourable of you,” she snips, her hazel eyes still holding a lot of emotion. Her hand starts smoothing over her beautiful, long mahogany hair, and I really have to hold back so I don’t start doing it too.
“What is?” I ask, jamming my hands into my suit pants so I don’t fix it for her.
“The way you paint yourself. But the true test is how an alpha, and a pack, reacts under pressure. Talking hypothetically but placed in a situation where Jenna was in full presentation, when she is at her most vulnerable, dripping with need, you wouldn’t be able to walk away. I’d put money on it. You’d argue of your own need being more important, more relevant, turning it all around so that it was about how you had to be a part of it to ensure her safety. You’d say shit like she was lost and mindless, unable to make coherent decisions. You’d take and take and take, until that person couldn’t give anymore and then you’d talk endlessly to justify your actions.”
By the time she finishes, her chest is rising and falling quickly, like she’s sprinted for her life. And she has, but it’s from the darkness in her head. Which is truly one of the saddest things about all this, because no matter what we do, her trauma and memories will live inside her forever. But in that, she is also the personification of determination, fight, and unwavering strength.
And she’s right in a lot of ways. My pack and I will do whatever is needed, but she is so fucking wrong that we will be the ones making any decision. It will be Bailey every step, right or wrong, fast, or slow, forward, or backwards, but she will show us the way and we will dance to her tune. Even if that is to show us she’s a match with another pack.
“Not all alphas are bad, Bailey.” I admit softly, my voice barely above a whisper. I have to drop my eyes from hers. Not because there are too many memories and too much pain in hers but it would be hard to talk my way out of the very real knowledge that we’re no longer talking about Jenna or anyone else. It would be impossible to hide the burning impact of her words from my eyes, nor the hope that we can make a difference. “I promise you. Not all alphas are bad.”
“And not all omegas are weak and spineless.”
I look further away from her. And that’s hard, it goes against every one of those alpha tendencies she was talking about. I want to argue against everything she said but she’s way past the point of hearing me, and that’s not because of what I have said, it’s because she has lived that exact situation. I refuse to belittle or discount any of her pain or what she said, but I want to tell her over and over again that she is not weak or spineless, never has been, never could be. She is Bailey Henderson; she is more than enough.
“All good?” Reno interrupts our conversation.
“Will be,” I answer swiftly, holding his eye for hopefully long enough for him to catch on.
“Hey, Bailey. Are you feeling better? Did my fruit basket arrive before you left?” He asks, cutting through some of the lingering tension between us, with their evident shared connection.
“Are you buying gifts for Bailey and not telling me?” I ask, barely holding back the bitterness of my jealousy.
“Didn’t think I needed to ask for permission, besides it was a get-well gift from all of us. Since we’re going to be working together and all.”
“Yeah, thanks. It was really nice. Poor Maddie got attacked by it though,” she offers along with one of her small smiles.
