Chapter 6: He Was Never an Omega

I looked at the packet in my hand.

Then I looked at Adrian.

For a moment, I honestly thought the pharmacy had given me the wrong thing.

“No, they’re right,” I said. “I checked.”

“That isn’t what I mean.”

He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. His breathing was getting worse.

I set the packet down.

“Then explain it.”

He raised his head.

“I’m an alpha, Cole.”

I stayed crouched beside him with one hand on the open pharmacy bag.

The words were simple.

My mind rejected them anyway.

He couldn’t be an alpha. I’d spent the last several days worrying about alphas getting too close to him. I’d checked exits, kept people away, bought supplies.

I’d slept beside him.

His eyes held mine.

He wasn’t joking.

I stood so quickly that my knee struck the console table.

A small dish rattled.

Adrian flinched at the sound.

“You’re an alpha.”

He nodded.

“And you let me think you were an omega.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“That’s an interesting problem for a man who earns a living saying words.”

He tried to stand.

I stepped back.

“Stay there.”

The command came out harder than I intended.

He stopped.

I could hear my own breathing now. Every small thing I’d dismissed returned at once.

The grip when we shook hands. The muscle beneath his shirt. The way he’d moved me onto the dressing-room sofa without any effort.

The airport fans had known.

I’d been the only idiot in the room.

“How many people knew what I thought?”

His face tightened.

“Grace knew you’d misunderstood.”

“Ben?”

He hesitated.

That was enough.

I laughed once, without finding anything funny.

“Great. Was it entertaining?”

“No.”

“I kept telling people not to crowd you. I was buying emergency supplies for you.”

“I know.”

“Stop saying that.”

He lowered his gaze.

I picked up my phone and opened Grace’s contact.

Adrian shifted against the wall.

“I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t ready to hear it.

Grace answered on the second ring.

“I’m at Adrian’s apartment,” I said. “He’s unwell. I need his emergency contact and his care plan.”

Her voice changed immediately.

“What symptoms?”

I described what I could see without guessing at the cause.

“He’s alert, but he’s overheating and having trouble standing. He says he’s an alpha.”

Silence.

Then, “I’m sending the information now.”

“You knew I thought otherwise.”

“Cole—”

“We’ll discuss that later. Send it.”

I ended the call before she could explain.

A message arrived with a contact for Adrian’s specialist and a concise set of instructions. I called, put the phone on speaker, and let Adrian answer the questions himself.

He did, although he had to pause between sentences.

The clinician arranged an urgent visit and told us what to do while waiting. Adrian had already taken his prescribed medication before coming home. We were not to add anything without guidance.

I gathered the pharmacy supplies and put them back in the bag.

An entirely useless purchase.

I could return some of them.

That thought occurred to me because the alternative was thinking about the bed.

We needed to move him away from the entrance.

Adrian tried to get up before I offered help.

He made it halfway, caught the table, and swayed.

I stepped in on instinct.

His hand closed around my forearm.

My balance went forward before I could brace.

I caught myself against the wall, and his other hand landed at my waist.

For one breath, I was pinned between him and the plaster.

He was stronger than I was.

Not stronger in the way someone happened to win a grip contest. Stronger enough that my body recognized the difference before my mind finished being angry.

“Let go.”

He did.

Immediately.

His hands fell away, and he stumbled back against the table.

I straightened my shirt.

Adrian looked horrified.

“I was losing my balance.”

“Then say that before you grab me.”

“You’re right.”

My pulse hammered.

I hated that part of me had noticed how close his face had been. I hated that attraction hadn’t had the decency to disappear the second I discovered the lie.

I stepped out of reach.

“We’re getting you somewhere cooler. You walk. I’ll stay beside you.”

He nodded.

The bathroom was closest. I turned on the ventilation and ran cool water over a clean cloth. Adrian sat on the closed toilet lid while I placed the cloth where he could reach it.

His hands shook.

I looked away.

Feeling sorry for him would be easy. I’d been doing it since the wedding.

I wasn’t going to let easy make the decision.

“Why?” I asked.

He looked up.

“Why let me believe it?”

The damp cloth rested against his neck.

“At the wedding, I thought you’d refuse if you knew.”

“You hadn’t even asked.”

“I knew how you felt about alphas.”

I folded my arms.

“What do you know about how I feel?”

“You said it during the reception. Daniel’s cousin made a joke about your sister needing someone to keep her under control.”

I remembered.

I’d told the cousin that the next man who described Lucy that way would need help chewing.

Adrian watched me carefully.

“That wasn’t about every alpha,” I said. “It was about an asshole.”

“I understand that now.”

“Do you?”

He didn’t answer quickly.

Good. I didn’t want something polished.

“I was afraid you’d see the designation before you saw me,” he said at last.

“So you made sure I saw someone who didn’t exist.”

His shoulders dropped.

I heard the answer in his silence before he spoke.

“I let you believe what was convenient for me.”

That was the first thing he’d said that felt useful.

I leaned against the sink, keeping the space between us.

“You never had to announce it to the world. But you hired me to protect you. You knew I was making decisions with the wrong information.”

“I know.”

This time, he didn’t use the words to stop the conversation.

He looked down at his hands.

“I should have corrected you before you signed.”

“Yes, you should have.”

The admission didn’t make me less angry.

It did make it possible to stay in the room.

My phone buzzed.

The clinician was on the way. Grace had given building management permission to escort her directly upstairs.

I read the message aloud.

Adrian closed his eyes.

“Thank you.”

“I’m doing what I’d do for anyone who needed help.”

“I understand.”

I wasn’t sure he did, but I appreciated that he didn’t argue.

After a while, he asked whether I would bring him a clean shirt.

I went to his bedroom.

My bag sat beside the chair where he’d placed it. The drawer was still open.

The sight made something twist in my stomach.

Last night hadn’t felt fake.

His hand at my side had been careful. He’d moved away when I questioned him. He’d listened when I talked about Lucy.

That made the deception worse, somehow. I couldn’t dismiss the whole evening and be done with it.

I took a shirt from his dresser and brought it back.

He asked me to turn away while he changed.

I did.

When I faced him again, he looked smaller despite everything I’d just learned about his strength.

“Cole,” he said, “I wanted you here because I like you.”

I rubbed a hand over my face.

“Don’t do this now.”

“I’m not asking you to say anything back.”

“You’re ill. I’m angry. Neither of those things makes this a good time.”

He nodded.

I could see the effort it took.

The part of me that had enjoyed his company wanted to sit closer. The part that had protected Lucy wanted to believe a quiet voice and an unhappy face.

Neither part was getting control of the situation.

“I’m staying until the clinician arrives,” I told him. “After that, we discuss work with Grace. Anything personal can wait.”

His mouth tightened, but he accepted it.

“All right.”

The apartment intercom sounded twenty minutes later.

I checked the visitor details, admitted the clinician, and stepped back while she assessed him.

Adrian answered her questions honestly. When she asked who had come home with him, he said he’d walked alone.

She looked displeased.

For once, someone else could do the lecturing.

I went to the kitchen, washed my hands, and drank a glass of water.

My shirt had caught on the console table when I stumbled. A button near the bottom hung loose, and I pulled the fabric aside to see whether it had torn.

The old scar along my ribs showed beneath it.

I barely noticed anymore. It was part of getting dressed, showering, checking my weight.

A voice behind me made me turn.

“I’ll leave you two for a moment,” the clinician said. “He’s stable enough to rest. I need to speak with his specialist.”

I nodded and moved back toward the bathroom doorway.

Adrian was seated more comfortably now, a fresh cloth against his neck.

His gaze caught on the gap in my shirt.

Then his expression changed.

It wasn’t curiosity.

I closed the fabric.

“What?”

He swallowed.

I waited, already tired of discovering things he hadn’t told me.

“Your ribs,” he said.

“What about them?”

His eyes lifted to mine.

“I know how you got that scar.”

I stopped beside the door.

The apartment, the job, the bed—everything seemed to recede for a moment.

I had never told him about the injury.

Adrian looked at me, pale and apprehensive.

“I was there that night.”