I huff out a little breath as he helps me slide into my side of the booth and then takes up a space across from, the distance making my heart sink into my stomach.
"Make sure you keep smiling, Angel. I'm giving you my time, and you should be grateful for that. I'll make sure to send you an extra shipment of those mango candies you like if you're good."
My nose scrunches up in disgust before I quickly fix my face. The man I'm supposedly destined to spend my life with can’t fucking remember I hate mango. I like the orange ones—the ones that taste like childhood summers and make Xavier roll his eyes when I eat too many at once.
But Ryker doesn't know that. Doesn't know that I spent weeks studying everything about him when we first got scent-matched—his favorite foods, his hobbies, his business philosophy, every interview he'd ever given. I memorized it all like I was cramming for the most important test of my life, desperate to be perfect for my Alpha.
Xavier had gotten so pissed off watching me obsess over articles and photos, telling me I was trying too hard. But I'd wanted to be everything Ryker needed, wanted to prove I was worthy of being chosen.
What a fucking joke that turned out to be.
Ryker isn’t half the Alpha his own brother is.
A young waitress approaches, the woman immediately geeking out over meeting Angel-Boy. Her eyes widen as she holds her notepad to her chest, a little squeal slipping from her lips, and for a moment, I remember why I used to love this job. The way I could make people happy just by existing, just by being the fantasy they needed.
"Oh my god, you're even prettier in person!" she gushes, slipping her phone out of her pocket. "Could I maybe get a selfie? My girlfriend is never going to believe this!"
"Of course, sweetheart," I say, leaning in close for a picture. Her joy is so pure it makes my chest tight with nostalgia for the person I used to be.
After she takes our drink orders and bounces away, I settle back into the booth and try to ignore the heat building in my belly. But it's getting harder to focus on anything else. My cock thickens between my thighs, pressing uncomfortably against my loose pants, slick starting to coat my briefs in a way that makes me shift restlessly in my seat.
The pre-heat symptoms are accelerating faster than usual, probably triggered by stress and the emotional rollercoaster of the past few days. I thought wearing something with less fabric would be better, but it just makes it worse, every brush of the mesh across my nipples causing more slick to coat my hole, and every breath carries Ryker's Alpha scent in a way that makes my body respond even though my heart knows better.
I bite back a soft moan as another wave of heat rolls through me, my skin flushing with need that I can't hide despite my best efforts. Ryker notices, his dark eyes taking in my flushed cheeks and my sweetened scent beneath my patch.
He smirks with obvious amusement, leaning back against the cushioned booth like he's enjoying this. "Behave, little Omega," he says quietly, but there's no sympathy in his voice. No concern for what I'm going through. Just that same cold command he uses for everything else in our relationship.
I want to snap at him, want to tell him exactly what he can do with his orders. But the cameras are still flashing outside the window, and I can feel the curious stares of other diners who've recognized me.
So, I smile and nod and pretend my body isn't betraying me in the most public way possible.
Just another performance. Just another night playing Angel-Boy while Angel slowly disappears.
Angel
Dinner was a torturous affair, every minute stretching like an eternity as I tried to disguise the growing need clawing at my insides. I rocked back and forth slightly in my seat, hoping it looked like nervous energy instead of what it really was—my body preparing for something I'm not ready to handle alone.
I forced myself to eat more than my fill, smiling up at Ryker whenever the camera flashes got particularly intense outside the window. My cheeks hurt from maintaining the expression, but it was nothing compared to the ache building everywhere else. Every bite of food tasted like ash in my mouth, but I kept going because that's what was expected. That's what Angel-Boy would do.
Ryker made small talk about business ventures and upcoming appearances, his voice smooth and professional, like we're discussing quarterly reports instead of having a romantic dinner. He didn’t notice when I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself. He didn’t see the way my breathing got shallow when another wave hit.
Or maybe he did notice and just didn’t care.
And when he said it was time to leave, I couldn’t be happier to get out of that fucking place. I’m not even sure I remembered what I ordered.
Ryker helps me to my feet, steadying me with a hand to my back, the contact pushing toward another wave that I won’t be able to hold back from. I won’t be able to swallow the whines or keep from begging for what I need. Maybe he'll remember that I'm his Omega and I need him right now in ways that go beyond public appearances and photo opportunities.
But the moment we reach the parking lot, he calls for a car. For me. Alone.
"Driver will take you home," he says, already pulling out his phone to check messages, the car pulling up to the curb seconds later. "I've got an early meeting tomorrow." The dismissal is everything I’m used to, but it hits differently this close to my heat. I faintly remember my doctor saying that biology and scent matches alone aren’t enough. That we needed to cultivate the bond.
That every time Ryker pulled away, I would hurt.
I’m beginning to truly see what my doctor meant.
The building whine I've been holding back for hours finally escapes as the car door closes behind me. The sound is raw and desperate and completely undignified, but I can't hold it in anymore. The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror with concern, but I'm too far gone to care about maintaining my image. Not that he isn’t bound by an NDA.
"Please hurry," I manage to gasp out, my voice already going rough. "Please, I need to get home."
