Page 21 of A Promise of Forever
I sit back on my heels and look out at Caelan standing just outside the cottage door, then back at Forrest. Thedisappointment must be obvious on my face because Forrest just sighs again, dragging a hand down his face. "Fuck." He twists around to look at his brother. “Caelan, I can't leave him right now."
Caelan leans against the doorframe, just outside, and I wonder why he’s not coming in. After all, this house would be his, too, right? "And if it were any other problem, I’d say you didn’t have to go. However, you can stay up in the box. We can take care of what we can and then call you down. Scent Sterling if he'll let you, but we've got to get moving. Otherwise, we're going to have a bigger mess on our hands." He pauses, then adds with obvious reluctance, "And for fuck's sake, you might as well explain what we do here. He's going to figure it out eventually anyway."
I blink several times, trying to process what Caelan just said. Scent him? Inbox? Bigger mess? None of it makes any sense, but I can tell from the tension in both men that whatever emergency pulled them from sleep is serious. Caelan gives us one last look, then closes the cottage door to give us privacy. I wait, staring at Forrest for an explanation. Finally, I voice the question that's been building since I woke up to pounding on the door. "What?"
The single word encompasses everything I don't understand. What emergency? What is Forrest's business really about? What does scenting mean? What am I really getting myself into by accepting his protection?
Forrest looks at me for a long moment, clearly weighing how much to tell me and how to frame it. Then he sits down on the edge of the bed, close enough to touch but giving me space to process whatever he's about to say. I already feel like I’m not going to fucking like it.
Sterling
Fifteen minutes later, I find myself in the back of a black car with tinted windows so dark I can barely see the city passing by outside. Forrest somehow procured clothes in my size, a soft sweater I wanted to wrap myself up in and pants that hug my waist tight enough to stay up. I look a little goofy but comfortable and at this point, that’s all that really matters. Especially after everything he just told me back at the cottage. I press myself closer to Forrest, the contact both comforting and overwhelming, my hands shoved between my thighs as I try to weather the anxiety that's been building since we left.
Forrest told me the bare basics of his operation while we were getting dressed. Underground fighting rings. Betting operations. And the occasional weapons deal. Everything he kept mentioning just spoke of the dark world I had left and now, while I want to draw comfort from the Valla sitting beside me, I’m also a little terrified of what I’m stepping into. I twist around to look at him, taking in the dark maroon suit he’s dressed in. My Valla looks like he walked out of a goddamn magazine rather than out of bed a half hour ago.
I shift a little closer, despite the anxiety, drinking in his scent to calm myself. Some part of me knew Forrest wasn't doing anything legal. Most Valla don't because society doesn't accept them in legitimate positions of power. They're considered too vicious, too unstable, and too dangerous to be part of regular civilization. They're basically the nightmare designation that everyone warns their children about. But underground fighting? That didn't really compute when he first explained it. People getting hurt on purpose, betting money on who bleeds more or falls first. And then people watching and enjoying it? None of that makes any sense.
I swallow nervously, my gaze running over him, and then back down at my lap. My breathing picks up a little, my vision tunneling as the panic starts to take over. A firm hand lays on my thigh, squeezing softly and bringing me back to the present. "Breathe, sweetheart," Forrest's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "You're not breathing."
I let out a sputtering breath that sounds more like a gasp, then force myself to take in air more steadily.
"I would have left you at the house," Forrest continues, a hint of apology coating his words, "but I don't really feel comfortable with that. I don’t want to leave you alone right now but we'll be up in a locked room with secure personnel. No one other thanchecked and approved people will be allowed in, aside from my brother and Thea. You'll meet her soon."
I nod, not trusting my voice. The idea of staying at the house alone while Forrest dealt with whatever emergency pulled us from the cottage scares me. But coming with him to see whatever violence his business involves feels equally terrifying.
"You don't need to watch or see anything," Forrest adds, and I can hear the concern in his voice. "But I just... I need you close right now. I didn't want to..." He trails off, and I realize he's struggling to articulate something that's important to him. Knowing that my Valla needs me like I need him helps a little.
"I didn't want to leave your side either," I confess. "Is that selfish? I want you to touch me and hold me and kiss me, but I get so terrified because of... everything. But I needed to be here and I just... You told me everything and now, I…" I clamp my mouth shut before I say something I’ll regret, his hand squeezing my thigh a little tighter. Tears cloud my vision as I struggle to stay quiet and strong, reminding myself that this is better than being with Wilson. I can handle it. Forrest already said that I don’t need to watch and that I’ll be safe.
"You don't approve of what I do," Forrest says quietly. There's no disappointment in his tone, just resignation like he expected this reaction and somehow that hurts worse.
"It's not that," I say quickly, wanting to correct his assumption. I twist my hands around in my lap before starting to fiddle with the sweater. "It's just a terrifying world. I'm not sure why anyone would want to get hit. It hurts." Memories of what my ex-Alphas did to me for their pleasure flit through my head. Years of pain come rushing back at me, images I thought I stuffed away resurfacing. Getting hit was something that happened to me, not something I chose or volunteered for. Running or hiding only made things worse.
Forrest tentatively flips his hand over and offers me his palm, the subtle gesture drawing me in. I place my hand in his, my face warming at how much smaller my palm is than his. He doesn’t squeeze or grip me, just letting me rest there and soak up his warmth. "I have nothing to say to that that will make sense to you, Sterling. However, I assure you that you are safe with me, okay? And whenever it's too much, you just let me know."
I thought for sure he would try to convince me that what he does for a living is right. Wilson always did. My heart sinks into my stomach as I realize that I keep comparing them, waiting to find out that Forrest is just another one of my nightmares rather than giving him some semblance of a chance. I flex my fingers across his palm before slipping them between his fingers and curling them around the back of his hand. I sag against his side when he returns the gesture and look up at him, catching the worried look on his face. “This is your job. I can handle it, sir. I’ll be okay.” There’s no way I could ask him to leave. I’ll just keep my head down.
"And you're my Omega. You come first."
My nose scrunches up at that declaration, still not fully believing that I could be more important than business obligations and emergencies. But Forrest's expression is completely serious, like he's stating an obvious fact rather than making a grand promise.
"It'll take time," he continues, raising my hand to his lips, "but I'm going to prove to you just how special and important you are." He presses a kiss to the back of my hand before releasing me just as the car pulls up to a large building a few stories high, all concrete and steel with minimal windows. Forrest helps me out of the car, his hand on my elbow steadying me as my legs threaten to give out from nervousness.
He gently backs me against the car, using his body to shield me from the few people I can see moving around in the parking area,drawing my sole focus to the dark look in his eyes. "One more thing. There's going to be a lot of eyes on us. A lot of talk. I've never brought someone in here before."
My eyes widen at that admission. "Never?" Forrest shakes his head. A man this powerful, this wealthy, and this attractive has never brought a date or companion to his business venue? I swallow nervously, processing the implications of what bringing me here means. Everyone is going to know that I’m Forrest’s Omega. It’ll be his own version of a claim. I shrink back against the car door, a whimper tumbling from my lips as I realize I didn’t ask nearly enough questions. "What... what is the emergency exactly? I don't understand. You didn't tell me that. You just told me what you do. Why do I feel like..."
Forrest cuts me off, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "The emergency is that sometimes the high rollers feel entitled to things that aren't theirs. My job doesn't operate on regular hours, Sterling. We work when everyone else is sleeping, when people don't know the money is moving. Someone tried to take something that belongs to me, and I need to handle it personally."
The explanation is vague, but I can read between the lines. I run through all the things Caelan said earlier, coming up on the last little bit. "You can scent me," I hear myself say, not entirely sure what that means. "Just don't hurt me."
Forrest's expression shifts to confusion, one of his brows arching higher than the other. "What the fuck do you think scenting means?"
I flinch at his tone before straightening up again. "I don't know. I just... they take and I give. That's all I know about Alphas. But you don't do that. You ask. A lot."
The admission reveals more about my past treatment than I intended, and once again, Forrest sees a part of me I meant to keep hidden. He already saw the bruises and the cuts. He alreadyknows a few things I’m terrified of, but I didn’t mean to let him know how much had been truly taken from me over the years.
"I willalwaysask," Forrest pushes out, a growl tinting the edge of his words. "And scenting just means letting you borrow my scent so that when people smell you, they smell me. It tells everyone in there that you're under my protection, that you belong to my pack. That you’remyOmega." He leans a little closer, moving slowly enough that I could stop him if I wanted to. Then his nose brushes against my forehead, the feather-light contact completely non-threatening. He traces down my cheek, then along my neck, where my pulse must be racing beneath my skin. "Like this," he murmurs, his breath warm against my throat.
