Page 78 of Captive Omega

“You’d be surprised.”

I nod, though I don’t believe him.

My mind slips toward how noble he looks, leaning forward in his chair, dark hair sweeping his forehead and his right elbow crooked, resting on his bent knee.

And his scent… I keep having to remind myself to breathe through my mouth and not my nose because otherwise his rich cedar scent would take over my ability to think clearly.

I remind myself who he is.

What he is.

Alpha. And not just any alpha. My scent match. One that I am biologically susceptible to more so than any other. Noticing things like the way his dark hair falls over his forehead is a slippery slope to me noticing other things about him.

“I hope the others aren’t too loud.” He picks up another piece, eyes it for a beat and returns it to the pile. “Breakfasts are usually the loudest, then they get quieter throughout the day. Except Vaughn. He has an internal battery that never seems to run low.”

“Yeah, I got that.” I left him drumming at eleven. Brushing perspiration from my brow, I wonder how he can handle sitting so close to the fire in a shirt and pants.

And it’s the middle of the night. Why isn’t he wearing pjs?

Naturally, pjs leads to thoughts of beds, and thoughts of bed leads to…

Dangerous places.

“They’re okay.” Other than nearly getting hit in the face with a pancake, I like the noise, the laughter, and the conversation. It beats spending my days cursing alphas from behind a locked door or pacing a room in silence.

I hadn’t realized how quiet my life has been since now.

“Lex calls you Boss Man. Why?”

There are so many things I’m curious about. How Blaine got his scars. Was Violet Blaine and Garrison’s lover? After Vaughn’s vague responses, this is a question I might actually get an answer to. The others feel too personal to ask.

Garrison must be smiling from the wrinkles pulling at the corners of his eyes. I’m almost disappointed when he lifts his head, and he’s serious.

“Lex has a few names he likes to use,” he explains. “Boss Man is the one I find least offensive.”

“Names like what?”

“My name is Garrison Brewster.” He sits back in his seat as he steeples his long fingers together.

He looks like he belongs in a gothic romance. All that’s missing is the rich scent of tobacco, one of those floor to ceiling bookcases with the rolling ladder, and maybe a butler at his elbow offering him a glass of amber liquid, with a drawled out, “Your brandy, Sir…”

As the image sinks into my mind, I almost smile at the thought of him in a velvet suit with a cigar in hand.

“Gary, Boss Man, Brew Daddy, The Brewster.” He shakes his head before adding dryly, “And my personal favorite, Big Dawg!”

I can’t help but laugh.

Then my face freezes because I should not be laughing with an alpha.

“Anyway,” Garrison continues as if things haven’t just gotten awkward. “Other than the nicknames I wish he would forget, Lucas Security would not be what it is without Lex. If there’s anything you need, he can usually find a way of making it happen.”

An alpha admitting he isn’t the best thing ever? That maybe he needs help occasionally?

Have I fallen asleep in this chair to be dreaming up this impossible thing?

“And the reason he doesn’t call you by your name?”

“You’ll have to ask him. I’ve tried, and all he says is I need to have a nickname.”

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