Page 23 of Fallen Omega

“Figured that.” He leans close.

I swallow down the tiny sigh of relief that his scent, while it still pushes at me, doesn’t bring about any of that rush of need.

Heat. Because now all he seems to do is overwhelm me with his cologne.

“I’m really sorry, Jake,” I say, turning my empty glass. “But I’m not in the mood for company.”

He motions to the bartender. “Beer for me, and a Manhattan for the lady.”

My ears burn. I don’t know what a Manhattan is, but I’m guessing some sort of cocktail, and I should turn the drink down, I know that, but I can’t. I’m too broke to do that. Any other evening, I would but tonight…

I need all the dampeners I can.

“And it’s nonsense,” Jake says to me, his hand resting on the bar near mine. “People say they don’t want company, but they just don’t want to bother people, and I’m not bothered. Besides, you’re not going to completely crush a man who just got dumped by his date, are you?”

I look at him. “You did?”

He smiles. “Yeah. I know. His problem, right?”

He’s gay? It floods me with relief because what better foil for me against the world right now than an alpha who isn’t into women.

“I’m Liz,” I say.

Jake sweeps up my hand, kissing it. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m sorry you got stood up.”

“His loss, my gain. Now I have some pretty company to protect against the troublesome alphas.” And he winks. Then he adds, “Do you have to be at work tomorrow?”

“No. I…I’m between jobs.” What's that phrase I heard? “I’m fun-employed.”

He laughs. “Better than working in real estate. Starlight City’s got some great spots but also some hard sells. Don’t let me bore you.”

When the drink arrives, he hands me his phone and asks me to put in my number—because he might know of a job in his office—which I do.

Not my number, though. I put in one that’s a pizza place Dad and I used to order from. The man might be harmless, but I’m not that naïve. I’m not going to give him personal information not even if I’m dragged to another state to pair with an old pack alpha.

Besides, rule number one, never give out our number.

The pizza place knows me, and they knew Dad. They don’t mind getting the odd call and they’d never pass my details on.

I hand him the phone and he calls the number. “Now you’ve got mine.”

“I left my cell at home,” I tell him as he looks at my bag.

“I don’t mind. I’ve got something better. You. Here.”

And he laughs again.

I sip my drink and it’s good. By the third sip, my mind is nice and fuzzy and the conversation flows.

But soon my head starts to spin and mystomach turns. The walls close in and Jake’s concerned face shifts in and out of focus.

“Liz, are you alright?”

“What?” My tongue’s thick, too big for my mouth and I try to stand, but I stagger and have to grab hold of Jake.

My heart’s beating fast and my thoughts jumble and slide until I can’t make words form properly.

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