Page 75 of Why Cruise

I snorted. “Oh, poor baby CEO. Did Todd the Butler not inform you of the festivities for today?”

“He hasn’t quite recovered from the panty buying expedition.” Justice was only moderately successful in hiding his amusement.

Heat crept up my neck at the memory of the sleek black packages we’d found on our beds yesterday, each tied with white ribbon and stuffed full of underwear. All in the correct sizes. With no evidence, we’d decided that Todd the Butler had done the shopping, because just the idea that Justice had personally picked them out was too much to handle. We had stayed up way too late giggling over which would be his favorite.

Don’t be that omega, Theo, that gets hard just knowing you’re wearing underwear an alpha bought for you.

“You’re going to look fantastic in an eye patch with a fake parrot on your shoulder.” I nudged him forward so others in our group could get past us.

“Not even for you,” Justice grumbled, but something in his tone made my stomach flip. What might he do just for me?

“Just be thankful Mackenzie isn’t here. She might make you dance or something.”

The restaurant sprawled across an open-air terrace overlooking the harbor, where actual historic tall ships bobbed next to gleaming yachts. Fake cargo nets draped the ceiling, tangled with plastic crabs and sheaths of dried palm fronds. The wait staff wore striped shirts and exaggerated mustaches, brandishing plastic cutlasses as they delivered drinks in coconut shells topped with paper umbrellas.

A steel drum band competed with the general chaos, their rendition of “A Pirate’s Life for Me” barely audible over the enthusiastic “arrrs” from a group of sunburned tourists. Every surface seemed covered in plastic golden coins and cheap Mardi Gras beads. A mechanical parrot squawked pirate jokes from behind the bar while a line formed for photos with a cardboard cutout of Captain Jack Sparrow.

Justice scowled as one of our fellow cruisers staggered past, sloshing rum punch dangerously close to his linen shirt.

A twinge of guilt twisted in my stomach. Justice wasn’t enjoying himself at all. “We could skip this,” I offered. “We could head to Nelson’s Dockyard if you’d rather.”

Justice narrowed his eyes at me. “What color is this on your spreadsheet?”

I considered lying for half a second, but something in his gaze made that impossible. “Green,” I admitted. “It looked like a fun place to meet people in the cruise brochure.”

His expression softened. “Really, it’s fine. I didn’t sleep well last night, so I’m a little cranky. I’ll adjust my attitude.” His smile was brilliant.

We were led to a table far from the band, where someone was playing what appeared to be a giant plastic kazoo painted to look like a cannon. The sound clearly grated against Justice’s last nerve, his jaw ticking with each off-key note.

I spotted a vendor cart just outside, selling sunglasses. Mackenzie still couldn’t find a pair, and mine didn’t look right on her. “I’ll be right back,” I said, pushing away from the table. “I’m going to see if I can get Mackenzie sunglasses. She doesn’t have any money.”

Rose and her army were seated by the door. As I passed, they put their heads together to gossip. Whatever.

From five feet away, I spotted the perfect pair. Oversized cat eye red polka dot frames with dark lenses. Yes, perfect. She’d look like a pop star, like La Luna in the “How Hot is Heat” music video. $30 was way too much for them. But I didn’t care. I was way under what I had budgeted for this trip, anyway.

As I got back to the table, Justice was lost in thought, his fingers drumming against the wooden table. He looked almost sad. Maybe I shouldn’t have left him to get these. I tapped the glasses against my palm. His head snapped up, eyes finding me instantly, and the most beautiful smile grew across his face.

La Luna’s “Pack Forever” started playing, and the kazoo joined in. The already rowdy crowd erupted. Drunk tourists stumbled into me from all sides, throwing me off balance. My hip hit the table. Someone’s elbow caught my ribs. Another bump nearly sent me sprawling.

Justice was on his feet in an instant. He shoved the nearest reveler aside, clearing a path. His hand found the small of my back, guiding me to my chair. “Sit,” he said, voice stern. “Don’t move.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He stalked off, headed for the offensive kazoo, radiating controlled fury.

“Yes, Sir,”echoed in my head. The words fell from my lips without thought, and everything in me went quiet.

It wasn’t a bark. There hadn’t been even a whisper of alpha aura behind the command. Just Justice. Precise. Controlled. In control.In control of me.

I had been barked at before. Plenty of times. And it always felt terrible. Like everything in you squeezed until you were almost nothing. But this was… not that. My mind, usually racing with a thousand anxious thoughts, fell absolutely still. Not squeezed, but cracked open.

Sit. Don’t move.

I could do that, perfectly, until he came back. I didn’t have to. I could get up and run around, dance a jig, knock Rose over, anything I wanted. But I wanted exactly this. I wanted what he wanted. Everything else fell away.

This wasn’t biology. It wasn’t an omega thing. Not a societal expectation. This was Justice. His command, and the absolute certainty that following it was exactly where I was meant to be. Not because I had to. But because I chose to.

I closed my eyes like everything finally made sense.

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