Page 42 of Excess

“That would be best, please.” The last thing I needed was for someone to see me walking into the Prendre building. It was far more discrete to have them visit me here for interviews.

“Excellent, I’ll send through some times as options. Was there anyone in particular you were hoping for?”

“No, no one in particular.” I’d never had the same alpha for my heats twice, even if they were available. Using a temporary alpha was already a dangerous game to play when it came to my heart—there was no time more vulnerable for an omega than their heat. I took as many precautions as possible.

There was a strange, uncomfortable feeling in my gut, that I wanted to ignore but I knew wouldn’t go away. It was a Blake-flavoured feeling. He was the alpha I wanted—the only alpha I wanted.

“I’ll put together a short list then, based on what you’ve said you liked in previous years. And, of course, if you’d like us to simply facilitate with an alpha of your choosing outside of Prendre, that’s a service we offer as well.”

An alpha…

“Right,” I stuttered, having forgotten all about that. I’d never even contemplated that service offering in the past.

“I’ll be in touch with some names and times to meet. Have a lovely day, Ms Dara.”

I hung up, slightly on autopilot as I made my way out of the kitchen.

An alpha of your choosing.

Okay, Blake didn’t want a mate, but maybe he wouldn’t be opposed to spending my heat with me? If it was any other alpha, I’d worry that they’d want to save that experience for their future mate, but if Blake didn’t plan on taking one… Well, this might be his only opportunity. And while heats were kind of a liability, there was fun to be had too.

I could ask the question. It couldn’t hurt to ask. And now seemed like an opportune moment—there was no one else around, and we were both clear-headed and not distracted by impending sex. Then again, I’d be interrupting Blake when he was working, which was probably poor form on my part.

I dithered in the hallway once I’d finished dragging myself up the stairs, trying to decide what to do.

Was this a decision rooted in logic? Or was I emotional and reactive after this morning?

Maybe I should leave. Go and shower off the pilates sweat and stress pheromones at the very least. I could talk to him later.

“What are you doing, Inika?” Blake called from around the corner.

Well, that solved that dilemma.

“I was coming to talk to you,” I replied, hobbling around the corner as my calves chose that moment to start throbbing, but trying to make it look smooth.

The sight of the progress Blake had made this morning had me halting in my tracks, my woes briefly forgotten.

Where the low false ceiling had been was now a smooth, arched plaster masterpiece. This one small section of the house looked like it had been taken from a museum and seamlessly integrated into the house. Or perhaps it was the opposite, since the curved arch ceiling had been part of the original design.

It looked like Blake had peeled away a facade, highlighting the beauty underneath.

“It looks amazing in here,” I said, staring up at the progress. “So much better than I could have even visualised from the plans.”

Blake nodded silently, eyeing one spot in a particularly critical way. “It’s certainly an improvement over what was here.”

“It’s more than just an improvement. You’re really talented, Blake.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “What’s with all the compliments?”

“They’re genuine compliments!” I nudged his biceps with my shoulder. “You’re just bad at taking them.”

His beard twitched in a half smile. “That’s probably true. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked. “Or were you coming to inspect my craftsmanship again?”

I blushed at the reminder of how we’d got into this whole arrangement in the first place. “I’ve been very slack on the work inspection front, but no, I did have something I wanted to discuss.” I smoothed the waistband of my leggings, feeling oddly nervous. Was this a good idea? I’d always wonder if I didn’t ask. “You recall that I mentioned my heat was approaching?”

Blake gave me a sidelong look. “I remember.”

His voice seemed to have dropped an octave, and I did my best to tamp down my reaction at the reminder of how enthusiastically he’d responded to the mention of my heat the last time we discussed it.

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