She got to her feet, gaunt and frail-looking. The layers of makeup couldn’t fully hide the dark circles under her eyes, or the lines of sadness etched into her face. “Hi, Alex. I heard you were back.”
Crossing to the door, he sighed again. “You shouldn’t be here, Drina.”
“I just wanted to see you.”
No, she wanted someone to help ease the loneliness plaguing her. He couldn’t blame her for that. He also couldn’t help with it.
They’d had a short fling nine months ago. When she’d pushed for more, he’d ended it—just as he’d warned her that he would, since he wasn’t looking for anything permanent. Soon after that, she’d started dating one of their pride mates, Giles. The couple had grown so close they’d imprinted on each other after only two months—it happened like that sometimes.
Imprinting was unpredictable and poorly understood. Some speculated it would only happen if the building blocks for a mating were there, like trust, protectiveness, tenderness, and loyalty. It could begin after only a few weeks, but sometimes it took a lot longer.
Unlike with mating bonds, imprint bonds weren’t irrevocable. Drina and Giles’ bond had only been in its early stages when, for a reason neither of them had shared, the imprinting process had begun to reverse itself. And then the partial bond broke completely.
As typical in such cases, she and Giles had both been suffering from headaches and depression. Drina had repeatedly turned up at Alex’s apartment, wanting to come inside; wanting to “talk.” Which basically meant she wanted to fuck. He’d turned her away again and again, but she wasn’t deterred.
“I told you not to come back here,” he reminded her.
“I just want to talk.”
“No, you don’t. And if you did, I’d be the last person you’d come to.” He wasn’t exactly Mr. Sensitive, and empathy wasn’t his strong point.
“That’s not true. You’re a good listener. You don’t judge.”
Oh, he totally judged. He was an asshole that way. “If you really want to talk to someone, go see one of the omegas.”
She frowned. “I don’t want pity. I don’t want someone to pat me on the head and tell me that everything will be fine in time.”
“Not all of them would do that.”
She snorted. “I’m not going to Bree, if she’s who you’re thinking of. Everyone knows she can’t be trusted.”
Alex bit back a growl, and his beast flexed his claws. Some members of the pride didn’t trust Bree, sure that someone couldn’t be predestined for a twisted person like Paxton unless they were like him. That was pure bullshit. It was well-known that true mates balanced each other out. Paxton felt absolutely nothing; Bree felt too much.
Alex fished his keys out of his pocket. “Go home.”
Drina continued to bar the door. “Just let me come inside.”
“So that I’ll fuck you? Make you forget?”
She flinched. “You make it sound like I’d be using you. Like you’d be anyone to me. You know I care about you.”
Which was even more of a reason to turn her away. Right now, she was looking to fill a void. It would be easy for her to get attached. “Go, Drina.”
“I won’t push for more than sex this time.”
Yes, she would. She was desperate to settle down and start a family. Most female shifters took a mate while in their mid to late twenties. Drina was thirty-five, and she was beginning to panic that she’d never find her true mate or anyone she cared enough for to fully imprint on.
“Come on, I’m offering you the very thing you want—uncomplicated sex,” she said, a bitter note to her voice. “We were good together. You know we were. Would a repeat really be so bad?”
God, it was like fucking Groundhog Day. They’d had pretty much this exact conversation several times—she was not hearing him.
Alex pinned her gaze with his. “This is the last time I’ll say this, Drina. We will not be having the occasional fuck whenever you’re in the mood, or even a for-old-time’s-sake-one-night-stand. So go look for what you want from someone else. I can’t give it to you. I don’t want to. If you turn up here again, I’m just going to walk right past you as if you’re not even there.” He wasn’t kidding.
Alex gently nudged her aside, unlocked his door, walked into the apartment, and kicked the door shut. His beast’s hackles lowered; the animal shook his body to settle his fur.
Alex shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the sofa. Mila and his mother had decorated his apartment for him, determined that it wouldn’t look like a tacky or sterile bachelor pad. He’d let them have free reign on the décor because he didn’t give much of a shit. They’d done a good job. It was modern and stylish with a red, black, and gray color scheme. There was lots of gloss and leather and marble.
He headed into his kitchen, set up the coffee maker, and then switched it on. He pulled a mug out of the cupboard, stilling when he saw it was the cup that Bree had given him one Christmas. It had a picture of a wolverine on it, along with the quote: “I am Satan’s Spirit Animal.”
Her words whispered into his mind …
The person who’s not ready is you.
Biting out a curse, Alex returned the mug to the cupboard, slammed the door shut, and then switched off the coffee maker. He stalked toward the bathroom. He needed a fucking shower.
CHAPTER THREE
The following evening, Bree shifted restlessly in her seat. The meeting with the omegas was thankfully almost over. She needed to be home by six, since Elle would be arriving then. Bree had managed to coax the redhead into helping her redecorate her bedroom.
The omegas met twice a month in the break room at the pride’s daycare center, which Dani ran. The other omegas were gathered around the circular table, drinking coffee or tea. In Bree’s opinion, it wasn’t the best place to hold a meeting. Not simply because it was small and cramped with the most uncomfortable plastic chairs in the history of ever. The daycare center didn’t close until seven-thirty, and the walls didn’t block out the sounds of kids crying and fighting and playing with electronic toys that were loud as shit. It wasn’t exactly a peaceful or professional atmosphere.
The meetings were opportunities for them to raise issues, express their concerns over people who weren’t seeking counsel, discuss arrangements that were being made for any events, and to suggest that Dani speak to Vinnie about complaints made from pride members.
It was also Dani’s opportunity to check on the welfare of each omega. Constantly absorbing negative energy was much like regularly cutting yourself. It didn’t matter that the wounds would scab over and heal, just as it wouldn’t matter that an omega could purge their body of the alien energies—getting wounded day after day, feeling that slice of pain again and again, took its toll.
If omegas became too overwhelmed by their gift, it could lead to professional burnout. Anxiety. Stress. Even depression. All those things could cause an omega’s shields to weaken.
Such people often developed addictive habits, became agoraphobic, or isolated themselves from others—even from their loved ones. And then their seven-year-old daughter might one day find their dead body swinging from a tree … just as Bree had found her mother.