He debated telling Pember it was a super-secret recording device just to watch his dark eyebrows pull up in surprise, but chose instead to clear his throat and make it awkward. Pember flushed and quickly looked down at his hands.
As the residential streets widened into the dual carriageway, a comfortable silence fell over the two of them. Blake drummed his fingers across the top of the steering wheel, the aggressive rhythm of the music going some way to focusing his overfull mind.
Pember’s foot tapped along. Blake hadn’t anticipated that the omega would like Deftones, but as his gaze flicked to him, he realised his hands were sliding up and down the seat belt like he was playing guitar.
“Do you play?” he asked, cocking a brow.
Pember coughed and stilled his movements. “Oh… um, just the cello. Haven’t played in ages, and was never any good.”
Blake hummed. “Why not?”
“I focus too much on the technicalities, instead offeelingthe music,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I mean, why haven’t you played in ages?”
“O-oh. I used to play with my sister. I only really tried because of her.” His eyes turned glassy again, so Blake dropped it.
“Chichima Zabu is the pathologist working with us today. She’s probably one of the best this side of the city; really thorough.”
Pember nodded, expression relaxing as he returned to tapping his feet. “That’s good. I’m really nervous, to be honest. I’m worried I’ll mess everything up.”
“Don’t be. Duncan’s coming, and Chichi’s really approachable. She’ll guide you through everything. And besides, I’ll be watching your every move and judging every decision you make.” His mouth tipped up into a smirk.
Pember scoffed. “Thanks,” he said, tapping a knuckle to the back of Blake’s hand. “Are you coming with us or are we meeting you there?”
Blake swallowed, the tiny touch making his inner wolf stand to attention. “I’ll meet you there. The boss wants me to prepare a team briefing for this evening. Depending on what’s found at the PM, we might be working through the night.”
Pember frowned but didn’t question it.
“And bring Vaporub. For the smell.”
High Enfield Mortuary was just as frigid as the night before, and Blake was alone as he waited for everyone else to arrive. Lily, whilst not as bad as her colleagues, was still a chattymotherfucker, and she’d chewed his ear off for the eight hours they’d spent waiting for the body to be booked in.
He was early as always, and found himself pacing up and down the long, brightly lit corridor. His footsteps echoed, the tap, tap, tap of his tan brogues bouncing off the metal hatches lining the walls. It was an eerie thing to be surrounded by the dead, and he was well and truly outnumbered on that front. Reading the details on each of the hatches, he slowed his pace.
‘Daniel Cornell, 56, alpha.’
‘Hilary O’Shea, 78, beta.’
‘Angelika Diaz, 46, beta.’
‘Mohammed Hussain, 81, omega.’
‘Brian Fallon, 62, alpha.’
‘Evaline Williams, 7 months, omega.’
The corridor fell silent.
Blake’s throat went dry when he realised the hatches ahead had gotten significantly smaller. Horrific memories from his time in Child Protection threatened to invade his brain, the sensation all but repelling him back down the corridor. There was nothing quite so disturbing as witnessing a post-mortem on a baby.
Turning on his heel, he strode towards the reception desk, almost tripping into a run as the corridor seemed to go on forever. Then, he smelled it. A soft, sweet scent drifting through the heavily conditioned air. He stalked forwards, his wolf’s ears pricking and making his feet move of their own accord.
“Oh!” Pember jumped as Blake crashed around the corner.
Reaching out, he gripped Blake’s arm, holding it tight. His eyes were like two planets as they stared up at him. Blake hadn’t noticed before, but in the bright light of the morgue he saw there were flecks of gold interspersing the green. His wolf whined and pushed against his skin.
The omega was utterly gorgeous.
