Page 25 of Citius

I walked a half-step behind Morgan to protect her if anyone got too close. She was an omega, after all. The least I could do was keep her safe in a crowd.

“Did you manage to find a place near campus?” She tucked some hair behind her left ear. There was a piercing on the inner cartilage, just above her ear canal. I didn’t remember her having it before.

“No, staying with my brother’s pack for a bit.” A pack with a rotational chore schedule. That wanted to make Sunday pack dinners a thing. Damn Owen and his house rules. “Might be a total shitshow.”

I was relieved to see a bit of color in Morgan’s face as she glanced over. “The perfectionist?”

“That’s the one! And he’s only gotten worse. Now he’s all corporate on top of being a dictator. Still a giant nerd, though. Don’t get me wrong, he’s brilliant and all, but also mildly insufferable.”

Morgan’s laugh was brief and low. It lingered deep in my chest, like a church bell on a quiet morning.

Several yards ahead, a trio of alphas in ugly tracksuits came out of a burger joint. They shouldered through a pack dressed for a tropical getaway, almost knocking down an older man in plaid shorts. A beta woman with a stroller hurried out of their way.

They headed straight for us. For Morgan.

Hell no, my inner alpha snarled. Demanded action.

I might only be five-seven, but I could take all three without breakinga sweat.

Stepping into Morgan’s path, my body became her shield, halting her progress with an outstretched arm, rolling my carry-on suitcase between her and the alphas to serve as an extra buffer.

They got close enough for one of their arms to brush my chest. I caught a whiff of their combined scents, an overly sweet mix of gasoline and stale spice. Like finding a bowl of powdery after-dinner mints in a truck stop bathroom. Right next to the urinal. Gross.

Thankfully, they had a sense of self-preservation and kept walking. I turned to Morgan, feeling satisfied with the outcome—for all of one second.

Morgan was angry.

Back ramrod straight. Jaw clenched. Throbbing pulse at the base of her neck. Extra firm grip on her luggage handle. Her stormy gaze searched my face. It was a silent interrogation. Demanding an explanation that I couldn’t provide—what were you thinking, you damn pushy alpha?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The desire to wrap her in my arms and apologize was so overwhelming that it hurt. I would apologize for overstepping. For assuming she welcomed my protection. For everything—everything—if it meant she’d stop looking at me like that. Like she was going to tell me to get lost.

Again.

Morgan bit back whatever curse was on the tip of her tongue. “This is where I leave you.”

“See you, Morgan,” I said. Totally useless. I knew she didn’t want me. Didn’t need me. But what if she couldn’t even tolerate me? “Thanks for the company.”

She walked away. Didn’t look back. Not even a spare glance. And I only had myself to blame.

***

The Tolliver Yards fitness center could put most professional gyms to shame. Whoever designed it knew their stuff. Despite the early hour, a handful of residents used the treadmills and stationary bikes, while a beta couple went to town on kettlebells.

As the lone man on the rowing machine, I was trying to put as muchmental distance between Morgan and myself as possible. Trying and failing.

After an hour of self-torture, I called it quits. But I wasn’t ready to head back to the loft. Something about the space bothered me. It felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. Not quite déjà vu, but close—and yet not.

So, I decided to kill some time checking out the resident amenities: the hot tub and steam room, the business center, and the lounge. Everything was top-of-the-line, too shiny to be meant for mere mortals.

The indoor playground was fantastic, though, with its climbing wall and reinforced play structure shaped like a treehouse. A safe space to burn off energy without having to keep burgeoning alpha strength in check.

Something I could appreciate, having left a trail of bent bike handles, decapitated toys, dented walls, and ripped hammocks in my wake growing up. A constant drain on my mom’s wallet, as she liked to remind me to this day.

An overpowered runt that didn’t know the value of a dollar.

I lingered at the door to the riverside patio. Boxwood hedges surrounded the entire building. Endless amounts of boxwood, as far as the eye could see.

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