Page 58 of Heat Hesitation

He lingers, clutching my hand as we go downstairs to the kitchen. I project soothing vibes through our bond, and he eventually relents so we can say goodbye for the day. Enzo's neediness has tapered, but when we're around each other, he still looks at me like he's afraid I'm not real. His intensity should be unsettling, but it's not. It's comforting.

"Does it bother you?" Theo asks once we're in his fancy ass car speeding down the mountainous back roads.

"What?"

"Enzo. The way he is since you bonded."

"Are you worried you'll get like that?"

Theo barks a laugh. "Nah, Enzo and I are too different. He's my best friend and brother, and I fucking love him to death, but his reaction to your bond is an extension of who he is, just like I think it'll be for me. I'm looking forward to playing with it. The bond, I mean. I've heard whispers of some… possibilities regarding tantric sex and something called bond plucking that I'd like to explore." He winks at me.

"Of course, that's where you'd go with something as revered and beloved as a mate bond," I laugh, shaking my head. Also, that does sound amazing, and I can't wait to explore it, but I'd never admit that to him. "You're a tool. I guess I just mean, you're not concerned about being overly protective?"

"I am protective of you. It just looks different from Enzo; that's my point. He's a sledgehammer right now. I'm a needle and thread. We're more than our designations, my little peanut brittle. "

Stupid nicknames aside, Theo's always surprising me.

"It's a trip," he adds.

"What is?"

"Enzo. He's always been quiet, reserved. But disinterested, too. He was present, but you always wondered if he didn't secretly think you're a fucking idiot. I know he loves me, but I couldn't tell you if he likes me, you know? He stares at people until they get uncomfortable, using their tells against them. He's still like that but with you… it's like, for the first time in his life, he's present. Like, he's involved in his life and not just passively observing, watching it happen around him. He's participating."

"That's surprisingly astute, Theo."

He side-eyes me and grins. "I have my moments."

I bug him the entire drive to tell me where we're going, but he just ignores me and instead tries to play twenty-questions. What's your dream vacation? Peanut butter or jelly? Action movies or thrillers? Candles or incense?

It goes on like this until we're parking downtown near the shopping district. He's distracting me from scowling at all the fancy shops that, had I not been on his arm, I'd be laughed out of, and I appreciate the effort he puts in to make me feel at ease.

I don't figure out our destination until Theo's holding a door open for me. Hesitantly, I step inside.

"A… home goods store?" I tilt my head up at him, questioningly.

"Mr. Constantine, welcome!" A young beta man with perfectly coiffed, short brown hair, a polka dot bow tie, and a pinstripe blue suit rushes over to us, clasping my hand in his.

I try to pull away, but his big smile and shiny white teeth hold me captive. "Oh, and she is stunning! When I heard the Constantines were officially courting an omega, I told everyone there was no way they were going with some boring little debutante after shunning all the academy graduates for so long. And did anyone listen to me?" His eyebrows lift toward his hairline, and I can't tell if he's waiting for an answer before he continues.

"No! No one listened to me. I should have taken bets. I'd be rich. You're beautiful, honey, just so interesting and refreshing."

These are… compliments? I don't know how to respond while the shopkeeper plays with my long, loose, wavy hair, commenting on my casual, effortless style. His words.

"Is that what we're calling poor these days?" I snark.

Theo laughs under his breath, and the man, Paul—he eventually introduced himself between breaths—doesn't miss a beat. "Poor chic. Mark my words, all the OFA graduates will start wearing holey jeans instead of cotton dresses by the time the next gala season rolls around. You'll be a trendsetter," he taps the outside of his nose.

Theo places his hand on my back and pushes me further into the store, where we follow Paul—son of the original owners of The Nest, an upscale nesting supply store, he informs me with only a few breaths.

I'm too overwhelmed to feel self-conscious that Paul pointed out the holes in my jeans or that he heard, somehow through the grapevine, that the Constantines were courting an omega from South Loop. It's apparently—according to Paul—very big news.

I'm unsure how I feel about that since we haven't discussed it as a pack. I'm still getting used to calling them my pack. If I could go back, would I make a different decision and not bond with Enzo? Not be with Theo?

No. Never. This is what I want. They are what I want. I just thought I'd have more time to embrace the idea publicly.

At least no one knows I was the omega on the bridge or that we're scent-matched. That would probably be even bigger news. I wonder how Paul would react if I told him.

"Why are we here?" I whisper to Theo, afraid my ignorance or lack of enthusiasm will reach Paul and encourage him to talk more. There's no all-inclusive personality trait with omegas; we're not all this way or that. We're not all fragile, or shy, or meek. But one thing we do have in common are biological sense-sensitivities, and damn if Paul isn't wreaking havoc on my ears and eyes with his speed and flourish.

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