Page 25 of Outback Heat
Twelve
Matilda
Murphyissittingonthe front porch steps, his trusty tan cowboy hat pulled over his ears and his golden locks curling against the nape of his neck. He pats the space beside him and I sit on the weather-worn wooden step, wrapping my arms around my knees in a futile attempt to brace against the conversation I know is coming.
Murphy has an undeniable presence about him which commands attention. His broad shoulders exude a sense of capability and strength, hinting at the underlying force laying within him. Despite his jovial, playful personality, he’s still an Alpha in his prime with the capacity for great leadership.
Since I first saw him straddling his horse, I’ve caught myself daydreaming about his thick thighs straining against his jeans as they controlled the beast between them.
I perfume, revelling in the pleasant tingles his mere presence inspires within me.
“Mornin’, beautiful,” he says and I melt, smiling up at his sparkling blue eyes. He really is sinfully beautiful. The smile lines around his eyes crinkle and I’m flooded with a warm and fuzzy feeling. He makes me feel happy, and I instantly crave more of his attention.
My head tilts instinctively to the side and I expose the juncture of my neck and shoulder – my mating gland. Murphy growls and clenches his fists on top of his knees, the knuckles clicking as they turn white. My lips part and I suck in lungfuls of his thickening, warm scent. Freshly buttered toast, welcoming and rich.
Murphy takes off his hat and scrubs a hand through the shaggy curls, then grunts and stands up. He takes three purposeful strides down the garden path and my heart lodges in my throat.
Did I … Was that wrong? I’ve always resisted my Omega instincts but Murphy is my scent match. I thought it would be okay to indulge a little. Before I can release a whimper, he spins on his heeled boots and looks down at me with a determined expression. I hug my knees tighter.
“Is it a proximity thing?” he asks in a deep voice that makes my toes curl.
I blink up at him. “Hmm?”
“Your aura sickness. Like if I stood on the other side of a room, would you still feel my aura?”
I lick my lips and drag my thoughts back to the serious issue at hand. As much as I want to revel in the joy of finding my scent match, reality needs to be addressed. I could lie and tell him I couldn’t. I know I won’t. I’m not a liar.
I sigh and respond, “Murphy, I felt you from across the rodeo arena.”
He nods with resignation and scuffs his boot against a patch of dirt on the cracked garden path. He looks so serious and upset. I realise for the first time since we met, Murphy is coming to understand my aura sickness and all its confusing difficulties, especially when it comes to mating with him. His acknowledgment forces me to push past the euphoric joy I’ve been feeling since emerging from Bubbles’ pen last night. This might be an issue we can’t surmount.
The fact is, I don’t know who I am anymore. In the city, there are so many auras to absorb I barely get a moment when it’s just me. With Murphy, even in his subdued state, his wild aura is potent enough to make me want to forget all the consequences of falling in love with an Alpha I met yesterday.
Murphy looks out over the horizon, taking the time to find the words he needs. He rubs his hands together to buy more time before finally turning to face me.
His gaze is intense as he speaks, “I don’t think I can stay with you.”
My stomach drops.
“No. Please don’t do this,” I say through clipped, panicked breaths.
The only consolation is Murphy looks like he’s going to throw up. Or cry. Or punch something. Good. The fucker. He waited until I decided to be with him and, now I’m sure he’s my scent match, he’s going to walk away?
“Okay, fine. I’ll leave,” I huff, crossing my arms and resolutely looking away from his sinfully handsome face. It’s not fair that he’s gorgeous even while he’s breaking my heart.
He takes a few steps closer and crouches down in front of me. His aura skims along my skin and I swallow a purr of bliss. I still don’t look at him, watching as a kangaroo bounces along the edge of town.
“I’m not leaving you forever, Matilda,” he promises softly. “I want you to have some time and space away from all auras – especially mine.”
“I don’t want space from my mate,” I protest. I can hear the pout in my voice and I wrinkle my nose. I’m not a whiny kind of Omega, yet I feel one moment away from a full-blown tantrum.
“Spitfire, I let my aura sickness put you in danger and I’m so sorry.”
I scoff and angle my body further away from his. “Why are you sorry? Don’t you remember me and Bubbles having a moment? My head was clear for the first time in years. It helped me know for certain you’re my scent match.”
Through my peripheral vision, I see him smile weakly at my proclamation.
“And that’s amazing, but don’t you want to feel clear-headed without putting your life in danger? Bodella is the perfect place for an aura detox but, if I’m hanging around, you can’t.”
