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“Who in their right mind does that?” Delaney snapped.

“Why are you getting angry?” I gruffly questioned, genuinely confused.

“Because”—he pushed open the car door and slid out of the passenger seat—“what alpha, typical or atypical, would want to be with an omega who doesn’t scent properly? Or doesn’t beg to be knotted and pumped so full of alpha cum that they can whelp an entire fucking litter of kids?”

“I don’t under—”

He interrupted me, shouting, “Of course you don’t! No one will ever understand!” He slammed the car door and took long, purposeful strides towards the elevator.

I hurried to unbuckle my seatbelt and exited my car calling out, “Wait! Delaney! Wait!” I caught up to him in several steps, reaching out to take hold of his arm and stopping him. “Let me explain.”

He whipped around to face me, his eyes narrowed in a steely glare. “Explain what? That I’m not enough of an omega for you?”

“Jesus… No!” Exasperation made my tone harsher than I intended, but it caused us both to slow down. I chose my words carefully as I explained. “I don’t care if you’re not the typical omega. I just… don’t want you to be disappointed that I’m not the typical alpha.”

“How can you actively choose to go against your nature?”

“Because I didn’t actively choose for this to be my nature. Why does my secondary sex have to define who I am? The actions that I take? The people that I want to love? Isn’t that limiting?”

Delaney’s voice was soft yet burdened by the weight of his emotion. “Why wouldn’t you want to be who you’re supposed to be? And do the things you’re made to do?”

While I was getting the sense that this conversation was no longer about me, Delaney struck me as the type to share his truth on his terms. I respected that and didn’t want to or need to push him to clarify. I wanted and needed him to know where I stood. “We are so much more than our biology dictates. I want to be the person that I choose to be, not who everyone tells me I need to be because I have a few additional chromosomes. If you can accept me as an atypical alpha, then I’d love to stick around. If not, then I won’t bother you anymore.”

Delaney’s exhalation of breath shuddered under the heavy load of whatever he felt the need to carry on his own, his shoulders dropping. “And me?” He turned his face up to meet my eyes.

Gently, I took his face in my hands. “I already like you and you’re quite the handful. Sarcastic, a bit rude, loud. Hey!” I exclaimed. Delaney playfully punched me in the middle of my chest.

“I am not loud. I resent that.”

I lowered my voice, murmuring, “You’re loud for me.” I smiled at the sight of red tint bleeding into his cheeks.

“Shut up. And go back to work.” He pushed me away, mumbling. “Skulking around the parking garage like some creep.” He turned to head back to the elevators, but before he got too far, I grabbed his bicep again, turning him around and pulling him flush against my body.

I concentrated on how he felt in my arms; the warmth of his svelte body pressed against mine and how, after a few seconds, I felt him slowly letting go of his tension as he relaxed into the hug. I focused on the way he smelled, like a field of jasmine with notes of honeysuckle, and how that scent brought me more comfort than I’d ever known. Without any consideration, I gave voice to my thoughts as I pressed my lips to the crown of his head. “You fit so perfectly in my arms.”

He tightened his hold around my waist, muttering underneath his breath. “God, you’re such a sap.”

Chapter Eight

Delaney sat on the countertop, my personal audience of one. We’d been spending a significant amount of time together the past few months, meeting almost daily or having quick, impromptu lunch dates. I’d really grown to enjoy his company, not that I didn’t in the very beginning, but the more time we’d spent together, the more I realized I’d become comfortable, which was prompting me to question the validity in keeping so much from him. I’d been having an inner debate for the past couple of weeks, often getting so lost in my thoughts that others had to bring me back to the present moment. This proved to be true, even now, as Delaney had to call my name multiple times to gain my attention.

I shook my head lightly and placed the knife on the cutting board, turning to face him. “Yes, love?” His flush was instant, bringing a very light pop of red to his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

I had to hold back my laughter when he bit out, his voice lacking any real heat, “Don’t call me that.”

“But your reaction is so cute. How can I not?” His blush deepened and I was but a weak man as I gave voice to the laughter rumbling in my chest. “Okay, okay. I’ll behave. You were saying something?”

Delaney's eyes narrowed briefly before he rolled them. “You’ve said that before and each time it’s followed by something that is not exemplary behavior.”

“Am I getting my ninety-day review?” I joked.

“Depends.” Delaney flashed a bright smile. “I was asking where you learned to cook like this?” He gestured towards the opposite countertop. Seasonings, sauces, and broths sat in glass bowls, small pots, and pans that were adjacent to freshly chopped vegetables on a cutting board. A large pot was simmering, the delicious smell wafting forward to blend with the dish in the oven.

My inner debate sparked up again. I struggled to find a bit of the truth to share. “I studied abroad. Italy, mostly.”

Delaney hummed softly, bobbing his head as he asked a follow-up question. “How long were you abroad?”

“Which time?” I muttered under my breath but responded loud enough for him to hear. “I spent two years abroad. I actually started college out there but quickly discovered anything beyond legally required traditional schooling was not for me.” I returned my attention to cooking, continuing to julienne carrots.