8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

INIKA

F or reasons I didn't want to examine too closely, I found myself standing under the scaffolding on the second floor on Saturday morning, even though I knew Blake wouldn't be back until Monday. The staff weren't cleaning in this part of the house until the work was completed, which I was extra grateful for once I realised that the spare nest still had the distinctive scent of Eau de Alpha and Omega Sex hanging in the air.

Though, that wasn't exactly a surprise, since I'd made no attempt to air it out since our little tryst in there yesterday. I hadn't even stripped the bed. It smelled like us because I'd wanted it to smell like us.

It was a little embarrassing in a non-sexy way, but whatever. Alphas smelled good—and Blake smelled particularly good. And alpha-omega sex smelled incredible, provided you'd been the alpha or omega engaged in it. It was probably foul for everyone else, but as the staff weren't coming in, I could wallow in my own filth to my heart's content.

Though, I did want to ensure that the bedding was clean for when Blake came back to work on Monday. Just in case we had need of it again.

I grabbed supplies and stripped the bed, lugging the sheets down both flights of stairs to the laundry room, and eyeing the indoor pool guiltily as I went past. It was so much work for the staff to maintain, and while I'd told them countless times that they should feel free to use it as well, none of them ever did, and I only swum in it a few times a year at most. So many of the amenities in this house were wasted on me, and it served to make me feel wasteful about having them.

Fortunately, no omega—no matter how stupidly privileged—would let someone else touch their nest supplies, so I at least knew how to operate the washing machine. The rest of the appliances in the house presented slightly more of a challenge.

I grabbed fresh linen and headed back upstairs, not seeing anyone on the way since it was more of a skeleton staff on the weekends, anyway. Usually, I quite liked the added peace and privacy, but I had the odd urge to seek out some human interaction today. Mama would be happy to see me, of course, but dinner last night had already tested my patience on that front. It had been two straight hours of my parents trying to convince me to stay at their house while the renovations were happening. Graeme's fretting had been particularly effective with Mama, who'd been all but hysterical about my lack of compromise by the end of the evening.

I could message the girls and see what they were doing, but they'd just want to talk about Spencer's friend Hugo, and I was even less enthusiastic about that.

Perhaps I was being unfair. He might be lovely. I doubted I'd have one eighth of the chemistry with him that I had with Blake, and he'd probably just want to talk about Om-Guard the entire time, but that was to be expected. One eighth of the chemistry was probably the best I could hope for, in all honesty. Most of the time, I wasn't attracted to the alphas I was set up with at all.

Setting the clean bedding on the armchair in the corner, I sifted through it until I found the fitted sheet. Already, the room smelled significantly less like a sex dungeon, and it was deeply disheartening.

Finding the fitted sheet, I kneeled on the hardwood floor to tuck the sheet under the mattress, pausing at the sight of something under the bed.

A wallet.

It was worn, dark brown leather, with B.A. engraved in gold on the front. I flicked it open, smiling like an idiot at Blake's scowling license photo.

Shoot, he probably needed this. Had he noticed it was missing yet? I had no idea what he got up to in his free time, but I imagined Blake slept in on Saturday mornings and hadn't noticed that it was missing yet.

Then again, he should have noticed last night, right? Perhaps I was stereotyping alphas, but I assumed he went to the pub on a Friday night to let off steam after work with his friends.

Blake was such a mystery. In all honesty, that was probably why I was so interested in him. He was a mysterious, gruff alpha who was good with his hands. And the sex was filthy, and perfectly pushed all of my buttons—both the "tell me I'm pretty ones," and the "call me a slut" ones. That undoubtedly helped.

But once the mystery had worn off, so would my interest. The alphas that were chosen for me had no mystery to begin with, and I always grew frustrated with the ones I chose for myself. In every other area of my life, I felt confident in my ability to make decisions and commit to that path.

Just not love. I couldn't commit on that front for the life of me.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, pulling up the message thread with Blake and hitting call.

" Inika? "

I suppressed a shudder at the sound of Blake's deep, rumbling voice down the phone line. It was unfair that he sounded that good.

"Hello. How are you?" I paused for a moment, but he said nothing. Perhaps the mystery wouldn't wear off with Blake, since he was so reticent about speaking. "So sorry to bother you on your day off, but I have your wallet."

He muttered a curse. " I've been looking for it all morning. I, uh, can't pick it up right now. I'm at my niece's ballet class ."

He had a niece? And he was close enough with her to take her to dance class?

That was… adorable. Though, I shouldn't have been surprised. He'd said that his family was the reason he wouldn't take a mate. Of course, he was heavily involved with them.

"Whereabouts? I can drop it off. I'm running errands all over the place, anyway."

Or I would be. I mean, I could . I had things I could get done today.

Or perhaps I was just nosy and wanted to catch a glimpse of Blake's private life. Which was probably incredibly inappropriate of me, all things considered.

" I doubt you're running errands in Streatham, " he replied drily.

I didn't think I'd ever been to Streatham in my life.

"Not specifically, but I need to visit my cousin in Wimbledon," I improvised. That much was true—she'd just had a baby, and I'd been meaning to drop off a gift. I wasn't entirely sure how close Streatham was to Wimbledon, but they seemed vaguely in the same direction.

" Alright ," Blake said slowly. " It feels inappropriate to agree—you've probably never been to Streatham in your life. But I can't get away right now, and it would be helpful to have my wallet. "

"It's really no trouble," I assured him, amused that he'd read me like a book.

He rattled off the address for the dance school, and I committed it to memory as I headed out of the spare room and down the corridor to my suite, making straight for the dressing room.

"I'm on my way! See you shortly." I hung up before Blake could change his mind, sitting down at the vanity to freshen up my make-up and fix the parts of my ponytail that had come loose while I'd been making the bed.

I contemplated changing out of my matching sage-coloured linen top and shorts, but I also didn't want to look like I was dressing up. After dithering for a moment, I settled on adding a nice pair of leather sandals and a cute purse, shooting my driver a message as I headed down to the courtyard where he'd bring the car up through the vehicle lift from the garage.

Lúcás greeted me with a slightly wary look, holding the back door open for me to climb in before making his way around to the driver's seat.

"You sure about that address you sent me, Miss?" he asked, watching me through the rearview mirror. "That's, uh, not one of your usual spots."

"No, it's not," I agreed, giving him a cheerful smile before settling into my seat in the back of the car and waiting.

Lúcás didn't report directly to Papa, but I knew he'd gossip about this outing with some of the other staff and it could find its way back to my parents' ears via Graeme.

I'd been living alone for over a decade now, but I only had the illusion of freedom. My parents were still hovering, monitoring my every move until there was an appropriate alpha in my life who they could offload the job onto.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my purse, silencing it before checking the message.

Stasia: Can't you reactivate your social media profiles? It's strange to not have anything to send to Hugo.

Inika: I deleted them all, sorry.

The last thing I needed was to carry around societal pressure in my pocket—I got plenty of it everywhere else.

Stasia: Inika!!!

Inika: Does this guy actually want to meet me?

Stasia: How can you even ask that? Who wouldn't want to meet you?

That absolutely did not answer my question. I put my phone away, watching out the window as we crossed the river. I was glad that Hugo appeared to be just as apathetic about this whole setup as I was—it would be much worse if he was going into this intending to pursue me before he'd even met me. It was the norm, but it was distressing every time.

"We're here," Lúcás said uneasily, pulling up in front of a dance academy with peeling blue paint that looked like it had seen better days. "You're sure this is the right place?"

"Quite sure." I shot him a quick smile in the rearview mirror, smoothing down my shorts and grabbing my purse.

"I'll wait here."

"Are you sure you're allowed to park here?"

"I'll wait right here," Lúcás repeated stubbornly. Oh well, I could always pay the fine if need be.

Fortunately—considering how long the corridor was with small crowds of parents waiting outside the various classrooms—Blake was waiting near the front, and immediately approached once I pulled open the double doors.

"Hey." He flexed his hands at his sides like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. It was oddly adorable.

"Hi." I pulled the worn leather wallet out of my purse, handing it to him. "One wallet, as promised."

"Thank you. You really didn't have to come out here." He pocketed the wallet, rocking back on his heels.

"It was no trouble." I was omega-smiling again, trying to put him at ease. Usually, I resisted the urge, but this alpha needed a little soothing, though I didn't go so far as to actually touch him. I doubted he'd appreciate that, surrounded by all these people. "How's the ballet class going?"

"Do you want to see?" Blake blurted out, looking relieved at having a concrete task to latch on to. He was usually so smooth—or at least so in control. This was the first time I'd seen him out of his element. "Freya is just in here."

He led me over to the first door on the left, where the little ballerinas were visible through a windowpane, avidly watching as their teacher gave them an instruction.

"My niece is the one freestyling in the corner," he said drily, and I muffled my laugh behind my hand.

She was the one little ballerina who wasn't paying attention. Freya's dark brown curls had escaped her bun, forming a halo around her face, and I was pretty sure her sheer pink dance skirt was on backwards. She looked like she was having the time of her life, boogying away in the corner to the beat of her own drum.

"I'm pretty sure she goes to ballet just for the full-length mirrors," Blake muttered, though there was an affectionate edge to it.

"That's what I enjoyed most about it," I admitted, both of us moving to the side so a parent could peer through the window. "Well, that, and the costumes we got to wear for the shows."

"You did ballet too?"

"I think every omega gets put in ballet lessons, at least for a little while."

Blake grunted. "Freya is an omega. She's been dancing since she was two."

"That's so great that you bring her along. I doubt any of my uncles even knew I did ballet." I gave him another omega-approved smile, trying to come up with a polite way to excuse myself before the moment grew awkward. But before I could, the doors to the classrooms flew open and little dancers streamed out, filling the corridor with noise.

Freya seemed to materialise out of nowhere, popping up at Blake's side and staring up at me with solemn brown eyes.

"What's your name?" she asked, her voice calm and steady—almost unnaturally so for a child, but maybe they were all like that? I didn't spend a great deal of time around them.

"My name is Inika. And you're Freya, right? Your uncle was telling me about you." I crouched down slightly so I could hear her properly in the loud hallway. "How old are you?"

"Five. Did you see me dancing?"

"I did. You danced beautifully."

Her mouth twitched in an almost smile. "Do you like ballet?"

"I love ballet." Well, I loved watching it. I'd been no ballerina myself. "I danced for years."

She narrowed her eyes as though she was assessing me, before nodding her head once, having come to some sort of decision. "Uncle Blake always takes me out for tea and cake after ballet. Do you want to come with us?"

Ah .

Blake's eyes went wide with panic, and I stuttered, trying to come up with a plausible excuse that wouldn't hurt the sweet girl's feelings.

"It's just around the corner," Freya said confidently, grabbing my hand and tugging me down the corridor. "Do you like cake?"

"Of course," I replied faintly, shooting Blake an apologetic look over my shoulder.

"Wait here," Freya instructed, depositing me outside a door with a bunch of parents. "I'm not allowed to wear my ballet shoes outside, or my teacher will get mad."

She darted into what appeared to be a changing room, and I turned to Blake to do damage control.

"It's fine," he said before I could start. "I mean, I can get you out of it—"

"No, no, don't do that. I don't want to hurt her feelings."

Blake didn't quite smile, but I could have sworn he thought about it. "I don't want to put you in an awkward spot, but Freya has already had a rough morning, and it's not shaping up to be a great week..."

"I don't want to add to that. And I'm not in a rush. I can make time for cake," I assured him.

"That's good of you," Blake grunted, hesitating for a moment before continuing. "Freya doesn't really get to spend much time around omegas. Her mum died when she was three."

"I'm so sorry," I breathed, my heart aching at the thought. As my omega traits presented themselves, I'd clung tightly to Mama, relying on her experience to reassure me that each new development was normal. Even though our relationship was complicated, I couldn't fathom how much harder it would have been without her.

Blake shrugged uncomfortably. "She lives with me now, along with my brother and my dad. It's a lot of alphas in one house."

I suspected he was underselling how intense that was, but Freya appeared at that moment with a tracksuit pulled over her leotard, and sparkly purple trainers with the laces undone.

Blake knelt down to help her fix them before carefully tucking the rest of her ballet clothes into her unicorn duffel bag, gruffly telling her how nicely she'd danced today. For reasons that I was choosing to believe were unrelated, there was a weird fluttery feeling around my ribcage.

I shot Lúcás a quick message as we made our way out of the building, letting him know that I'd be a little longer. There was no awkward silence on the short walk because Freya maintained a steady stream of ballet-related chatter as we made our way down the road to a small, old-fashioned cafe.

We placed our orders—Blake insisted on paying—before taking a seat at a table by the window. I half expected Blake to object to Freya's choice of location, given that his gaze kept falling to me before glancing around the room, and this table was particularly on display.

Was I embarrassing him, perhaps? I didn't think I'd been a source of embarrassment to an alpha before. Other than my father. What a novelty.

"So," Freya began, looking at me seriously. She seemed so much older than her years, except for the fact that she was using her fork like a hacksaw to cut into a piece of chocolate mud cake. "What's it like being a grown-up omega?"

Blake choked on his tea, giving me a wide-eyed look as though I was going to discuss heat management theory with a five-year-old.

"It's… fine. There are good things and tricky things about every designation," I replied diplomatically, breaking off a small corner of the very generous slice of carrot cake I'd ordered.

This place was nothing like the kinds of venues I went to for tea and cake. The chairs were wipeable, rather than soft upholstery, and the overhead lighting was probably doing terrible things to the dark circles under my eyes, but the ambience was nice . Relaxed. No one was silently judging me out of the corner of their eye.

Well, maybe they were, but it was for a different reason. My linen set, which I thought had been so casual, did somehow seem too dressy compared to everyone else's summer outfits.

"What are the tricky things?" Freya asked before shoving an impressively large piece of cake in her mouth.

Blake still looked genuinely stressed, and under any other circumstances, I'd mess with him, but not when Freya was looking at me so expectantly for an answer. It was wise—and brave—of her to take advantage of the opportunity to grill a "grown-up omega" in person, and I wasn't going to let her down.

"The thing that I find the trickiest about being an omega is that sometimes people think they don't have to listen to me. They think omegas can't have good ideas—which is so silly, isn't it? Anyone can have good ideas. But sometimes, people have to be reminded of that."

Freya nodded solemnly. "They think we just care about cushions and stuff. Sierra, in my class, calls me a snail."

My eye twitched at the clearly learned insult. It was a jab not only at an omega's desire not to leave the house, but at the trails of slick we left in our wake, and no kid would say it if they hadn't heard it from somewhere else.

"Tell Sierra to shove her opinions—"

I cleared my throat, cutting Blake off. Not that I knew anything about children, but that didn't seem like great advice.

"But I don't listen to Sierra anyway," Freya continued, tipping her chocolate-covered chin up. "Because she says a lot of things that she should keep to herself."

Blake grunted approvingly. "You're a good kid, Freya."

He said it like it baffled him. Like he couldn't possibly understand where that goodness came from.

I wondered if Blake realised it had to be at least a little from him? My uncles sent me limited edition dolls a couple of times a year when I was five. They certainly didn't take me to Saturday morning ballet class, followed by tea and cake.

He was so dedicated to his family. He'd chosen not to take a mate in order to better support them. That wasn't a decision anyone made lightly.

"What job do you do?" Freya asked, accepting the serviette Blake handed her and cleaning her face with limited success. "I'm going to be a vet when I'm grown up."

"You must love animals, then. Do you have any pets?"

"I have a spotted python."

"Oh." I blinked. "That wasn't what I expected you to say."

"I did try to convince her to get a cat," Blake mumbled.

"If I want to pet a cat, I can go to any of the neighbour's houses," Freya sighed, looking at him like the answer was obvious, and a snake was the only viable alternative. She turned her expectant gaze on me, and I realised I hadn't answered her question.

"It's not as exciting as being a vet, I'm afraid. I work on the product planning team for Om-Guard. I help decide what kinds of things we're going to sell in shops," I added clumsily, unaccustomed to explaining my rather dull corporate job to children.

Blake's eyebrows arched. "Oh yeah? I suppose that's the sort of thing someone would usually go to uni for."

Someone , not you.

"Absolutely. I have a bachelor's in Life Sciences, and an MBA," I replied airily. Which was true, and kept me on par with my colleagues in terms of higher education. But I knew— everyone knew, including Blake—that wasn't why I got the job.

If I'd left school in Year 11, and spent a decade partying in Ibiza and St Tropez, I may very well still be in the exact same role I was in now.

Blake didn't look chastened by my words. If anything, he looked ready to challenge me all over again. It was a good thing I'd worn the painfully thick pre-heat knickers, because that arrogant, mildly confrontational expression really did it for me.

Not a soul on this earth had ever looked at me like that. Like they wanted to drag me over their lap and spank the attitude right out of me.

"My grandad says I have to work really hard at school to go to uni," Freya said, startling me out of my inappropriate thoughts.

"It's a good idea to work hard at anything you try," I told Freya. "And as an omega, sometimes you might have to work a little harder than everyone else. But I believe in you." I winked over the rim of my teacup, ignoring Blake's penetrating gaze.

His phone buzzed on the table, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as he immediately tensed upon reading whatever was on his screen.

"Eat up, Frey. Your dad's wondering where we are," he said eventually, downing his tea in one gulp.

"I'm still eating," she replied mildly, giving Blake a look that dared him to rush her as she took another enormous bite of cake.

I didn't quite hide my smile in time, and Blake turned his long-suffering look on me instead. It was only now that his guard was down that I noticed how tired he looked. He hadn't seemed that exhausted yesterday, even after we'd indulged in some rigorous afternoon cardio together.

Freya seemed more than happy to fill the quiet, and I hummed and agreed and asked questions in all the right places as she covered every subject from what she'd been learning about at school to which dinosaur she would have wanted as a pet. I kept waiting for Freya to ask who I was and how I knew her uncle, but I guessed she didn't particularly care about those details.

It was… nice. I enjoyed the company of children, even if I had some reservations about having any of my own. Mama had nearly died having me, and the subsequent surgeries to save her life meant she'd never been able to have another.

"I'm going to stop eating now because I feel sick," Freya announced, pushing her plate away.

Blake snorted, handing her another small stack of serviettes. "That sounds like a good idea."

I messaged Lúcás as we made our way out of the cafe, letting him know my location and feeling slightly sheepish about it all the while. Having a driver was very normal in my circles, but I could see that it would be considered something of an indulgence basically anywhere outside of that.

"Thanks for answering Freya's questions," Blake said gruffly as Freya skipped ahead to swing around a light post. "And for returning my wallet."

"My pleasure." I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to overstep. "I'm sure Freya has other omegas she can talk to, but I'm always happy to answer any questions she might have if that would be helpful."

I wanted to say more, to express some sympathy for what Freya had gone through, but I suspected it wouldn't be welcome. Blake was too proud for that.

He nodded, watching Freya in silence for a long moment.

"Well, I'll see you Monday then," I said brightly, not wanting to end the morning on an awkward note.

Blake's gaze switched to me, and I felt it travel down my spine, setting every nerve in my body alight. How did he do that with just one look? He was a weapon.

"Do you have thigh-high stockings?" he asked, dropping his voice so low that I could barely make it out.

The mood changed instantly, shifting from awkward politeness to suffocating arousal with just a few words and an intense look.

"Yes," I rasped as my slick-proof knickers fought for their life.

"Wear them on Monday, Inika."

"Okay."

My face hadn't cooled down by the time I slid into the back of the car, and I was desperate to get home, shower, then crawl into the sanctuary of my nest. Both because I needed to decompress after going somewhere new for the first time, and also because I needed several orgasms.

"You okay, Miss?" Lúcás asked, clearing his throat.

"Fine, thank you. Home, please, Lúcás."

"Of course. Graeme called—he wanted to let you know that your father had stopped by because you weren't answering his messages."

I smiled tightly, already pulling my phone out of my purse. "Thank you for letting me know."

Papa: We ran into Stasia at Citrus. She mentioned something about the Marquess of Hastings' son?

Papa: You didn't mention this to us at dinner, Inie? Mama asks why?

Papa: He sounds like an excellent prospect as a mate, Inika! The Board would be very pleased with that outcome. Come for dinner again and we can discuss this. Perhaps you can invite him also?

I sighed, slumping down in my seat. I'd been trying to ignore both the Hugo suggestion and the Board's edict, and now they'd converged and I'd be forced to face both head on.

Not for the first time, I considered walking away from it all. I'd been told so many times that my life was perfect, that I struggled to objectively look at it and assess whether or not I was actually happy in it anymore.

And if I wasn't, what was I meant to do about it?