19. Nineteen - Rebel

nineteen - rebel

. . .

The strong scent of coffee in addition to the sunlight streaming through the window wakes me up slowly; heating me. I squint into the light, trying to adjust to the brightness. It feels like spiders crept into my mind overnight and spread their webs of confusion. The night before comes creeping back in like a thief in the night. Undiscovered and deadly.

Tate.

My hand falls to the spot where he should be, but his side of the bed is cold. He's been gone for a while. A heavy feeling settles in my chest. Why does that disappoint me? I should be happy, right? My self-appointed guard has left the premises, but a part of me misses him.

Slipping my hands from the sheets, I stretch my arms over my head and stretch. It feels so good. I'm slightly sore like I worked out last night, but I know it's not the case. Maybe the tension from those creeps in masks has me feeling this way? Who were they? Where did they come from?

I sit up in bed, and a yawn splits my lips. Looking over at the other side of the bed, I run my fingers over the indents on the pillow where he laid his head to rest overnight. Against my better judgment, I lean down and inhale his decadently sweet and creamy white chocolate scent. Waking up to it reminds me of Starbuck runs when I was in high school.

My eyes close, and my body seems to relax with each deep inhale. How does he manage to do that to me? How is it that one scent lulls me into this illusion of safety.

Stop it, Rebel. You're mated to a psycho. I reprimand myself, but it doesn't seem to stop me from thinking it anyhow. A pop of color on the side table snags my attention, and I reach across the bed, grabbing for the piece of tie-dye paper carefully folded in half. My brows furrow as I pick it up and lean back against the headboard.

Didn't want to wake you when you looked so peaceful. Had to head to our place before morning skate. I'll grab some extra clothes so I can stay over again tonight. Try and stay out of trouble, my little firebrand.

Tate

I can't seem to help the way my eyes roll. Will he ever be less domineering? A sigh escapes me. Probably not.

Swinging my legs over the slide of the bed, I tug pajama pants over my panties.

Rising to full height I stretch again, and my shirt pulls up over my stomach. A yawn catches me as I drag myself to my bedroom door and open it, padding down the hall, led by the scent of rich coffee, into the kitchen area tucked in the far corner of the main living area.

"Morning, sleepy." My roommate sits at the island, her glossy hair swept up in a messy bun, dressed in leggings and a cami top, drinking a cup of coffee as she reads something on her tablet. Probably another romance novel. Nova has been obsessed with love as far back as I can remember. She wants the kind of love her parents have; unconditional and never ending. She's a hopeless romantic.

"When did the guys leave?" I try asking nonchalantly, reaching up to open the cabinet and grab a mug for coffee, then turn to face her, waiting for the machine to finally finish brewing my life juice.

She meets my gaze. "Gunnar only left about five minutes ago or so. Not sure when your mate snuck out."

Interesting. The coffee maker beeps, calling my attention to it like a siren lost at sea. Steam filters up from the mug as it fills. Setting the coffee pot back in its cubby, I move to grab creamer and sugar because, obviously, people who drink this stuff black are clearly heathens.

After I stir both in, I lean against the counter, facing her, and lift the deliciousness to my lips and then blow before sipping. As the first drop of its glorious liquid hits my tongue, I start to feel my humanity returning. "Ah…"

"Rebel?" The cautious tone of my best friend pulls me back from the revelry of my coffee briefly.

"Yeah?" Where is this going? My tone comes off harsher than I mean for it to.

Reaching out, she grabs my hand. "Are you sure you're happy? If you feel like this Tate thing is out of control, we can always go to the heat club. Tell them he bit you against your will. At least that would get him away from you."

The words sink into my brain. Am I happy? It's a revolving question I've been asking myself for days now. Despite the fact that Tate is demanding, I still want to be around him. When I'm afraid, he seems to always be there for me. His scent is calming. Hell, or maybe I have some twisted form of Stockholm syndrome. But… I think in a small way, I am happy.

The thought of him leaving me or losing him makes my stomach sink. So, I've definitely grown attached at this point. Silly omega hindbrain.

I smile at her, trying to reassure her. "Yeah, I think I am."

She relaxes before leaning back, and folds her hands in her lap, assessing me. The picture of openness, but I know how she is, how carefully she's monitoring my body language and face. It gives me a little semblance of peace, encouraging me to really think about things truthfully.

When I don't respond, she nods in acceptance, but her expression definitely says she doesn't exactly believe me. "As long as you're sure."

Wanting to change the topic, I ask her about her man of choice these days. "And… how about you? How's Gunnar?" I wiggle my eyebrows at her suggestively. "Is it weird being with an alpha?"

Gray blue eyes sparkle like diamonds as a silly smile appears on her face. She looks almost wistful as she thinks about it. I've seen this look before. She's lust drunk. "Babe… it's not the first time I've been with an alpha."

I balk at her admission, my eyes widening. "No shit, who was the first?"

A cheeky grin spreads her lips. "You remember the name Tague from back at the start of my sophomore year in college?"

I rummage through the cobwebs in my brain. The name does sound vaguely familiar. "Maybe?"

Her cheeks pinken. "Um. He was the starting center for the hockey league."

My head jerks, eyes squint, and brows furrow. With a bit of a raised lip, I look at her quizzically. "Wait! He was an alpha?" The dude was way too small to be an alpha. I would've bet money on him being a beta. "No way."

"Yeah, I didn't want to believe it either, but he had the damn alpha bark and knot to prove it. And boy was that knot fucking glorious." She fans herself and I can't help but laugh at her antics.

My nose scrunches. "You're blowing my mind right now. You've taken a knot? How did I not know this?" The words fall from my mouth before I can even second guess them.

Nova grins through my shock. "Obviously. Betas can be trained to take them, you know."

I scramble to find words. "I mean… I know that. Sorry, Nov, I'm just still caught on the Tague is an alpha bit. I'm just…"

She looks down at her nails. "I know. Crazy, right?"

"Wow." We both sigh then, reaching for our respective cups of coffee.

She brings the mug to her lips, tipping it so the liquid flows out faster, and moans. "Why the hell is coffee so delicious? Like, who woke up one day and was like… today is the day I shall change everyone's lives by making coffee? I could fucking kiss them right now."

"I wanna say it was created in Ethiopia by some goat herder?"

"Really," she frowns. "I was not expecting that."

I lift my shoulders in a shrug. The last time I looked up anything coffee related was years ago so it's possible my brain is leading me down the wrong path of thought. "I mean… you can double check me. I'm pretty sure I looked it up before."

"I believe you." God, I've missed this. Just me and my bestie. With everything that's happened lately, it's just now that I realize how long it's been since we slowed down and just talked about the most mundane things, like where the hell coffee was created. "So… you're still up for letting me take some pictures of you today for my class, right?"

My gaze catches hers, taking in her bedridden look this morning as my finger runs along the rim of my mug. "Definitely. Just let me know what you need me to do, wear, all the things."

"Well… I'd say throw on some sexy lingerie, a few swipes of makeup, and you should be good to go."

My eyebrows furrow over the sudden heaviness in my chest. "And you say this is for school?"

"Yes…" She says exaggeratedly. "Professor Dawson said this is a big portion of our next project, so we really needed to put some extra effort into it."

"But…" No one needs to see my chunky, not so normal thighs, or my large boobs falling out of a risque piece of negligee.

She must catch my expression because she tsks me. "Stop… you are fucking gorgeous, and anyone who tells you otherwise can deal with Mr. Taser." I snort, but she continues. "I'm serious. Even if I have to taser you until you believe me. I freaking wish I had some of your curves. But no… I'm a fucking string bean."

I frown at her, my hands placed lightly on my hips. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with the way you look, Nov…"

Nova clicks her tongue. "Exactly. Kettle, meet pot. Or something like that."

The next fifteen minutes are met with silence as we hang out together at the island in the kitchen drinking coffee, Nova with her romance novel, and me with my thoughts. I know, scary.

"Okay, time's up. Go get dressed so I can start on these pictures." I rise, grabbing our coffee mugs to rinse them out in the sink before making my way to my room. It takes me several minutes to decide on an outfit as I stand in front of my dresser looking at the clothes before me. What the hell should I wear? Bright red, baby blue, naughty black? Ugh. I hate having to pick out clothes.

I decide on a sexy little navy blue piece.

My eyes trail over my body in the mirror searching out all the insecurities I see in my body.

The extra cellulite on my legs.

My too-large boobs.

My ass that jiggles with each step I take.

Then I look at my exposed ink and smile. I love these tattoos. I love the way they embrace my skin and adorn my body.

The lingerie is see-through. I can see the way my nipples pebble from the slight chill left behind when I took off my clothes. You can see the neatly trimmed line I have atop my pussy. The negligee molds to my curves, and it's fitted in a beautiful and simple lace pattern. It's not scratchy like most lace things these days. It's soft. Probably the reason I purchased it in the first place.

A knock sounds at my door, and I pull my judgmental eyes away from myself in the mirror. "Rebel? How long does it take to put on some kinky underwear?"

"Coming!" I yell back. "But I need to do my makeup. It'll be just a few more minutes."

I can hear her huff through the door, and I have to stop myself from chuckling. Always so eager and ready to do the things she's put her mind to, and apparently, today, that's photographing me.

Footsteps lead away from the door, and I frown, taking one last look at myself in the mirror before turning and heading to the old makeup vanity in the corner of my room.

The lights flick on at the top of the vanity, providing light so I can see what I'm doing. Foundation and concealer go on first, followed by blush, eye makeup, and then I finish it all with some light pink glossy lip balm.

"Shoes or no shoes?" I yell to Nova when I realize I'm standing there barefoot.

"Up to you, honey. If they make you feel sexy, then hell yes."

When I finally emerge from my room, I find Nova sitting in the same spot I left her in earlier, but instead of coffee and a book, she has her camera bag, a tripod, and some special lighting spread out across the counter.

My hair is down, layered in beach waves, and I've done up my face in my typical war paint.

I feel like I'm about to step foot onto my first porno set for a scene. My mind instantly flashes with images of what that experience would be like. I wonder if I would be any good as a cam girl. I know it would bring in some cash flow for me, and I obviously like it when people watch, based on how much I slick just knowing someone's eyes are on me. My body was exposed all the time with Brad when we invited over his alpha friends, so would it really be that different?

Yes, there are probably millions of people who would see it, but they're virtual strangers. Men and women who could use the image of me to get off to when they feel the urge. "Rebel?"

The soft sound of Nova's voice drops me back into the present.

I shake those thoughts away. "Yeah, what?"

She laughs. "I asked if you would mind if we used your bed for a few shoots? Lord knows mine isn't made, and I know given your clean freak tendencies that it's probably like military grade made right now."

I tuff. "I am not a clean freak."

"You keep on telling yourself that, girl. Seriously, though, do you mind? Nothing personal, but I want bed pics with the light in your room, and I don't really want your scent on my sheets where Gunnar will have to smell it. I don't need him to die because he may have your scent on him."

I mean… she's not wrong. Who knows what Tate would do if that happened. He's certainly a possessive bastard.

Unlike her previous assumption that my bed was made, it was in fact not made. So I had to take a couple of minutes first to get it all pristine and spotless.

The entire time Nova takes pictures, she tells me to move this way and that, physically shifts my body, or tells me where to put my hands and my head.

We're finally finished, and we've plopped on the couch with wine to just enjoy some time together. Without the guys. She pulls the SD card from the camera and loads it into the laptop. Over three hundred pictures of myself are staring back at me.

Some of the positions she put me in for the shoot seemed odd at the time, but looking at the pictures, now I can see her reasoning. Her photos have vastly improved in the last few years.

Her first few years, the pictures were good, but these ones look professional. The light angle highlights different parts of my body for the camera. I can't wait until she reaches her full potential.