Griffin motions for me to keep walking until I reach the kitchen. It’s modern with white cabinets and marble countertops. Not a single thing out of place or an ounce of clutter sits on the counters. A massive island takes up most of the kitchen, where Griffin places the food. There is yet another fireplace in the kitchen itself, with a large T.V. hanging over it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that in a person's house before. Must be a guy thing.
Just as I’m about to speak, a cute little ball of black fur plops onto the kitchen island and starts rubbing against my shoulder. It’s a little black Halloween kitty with mossy green eyes. The cat purrs instantly and I go to give them chin scratches.
“Oh, and who might you be?” I fondly say to the extremely friendly cat.
“This is Binx, he’s an attention whore.”
Griffin scoops the cat up and kisses his little tiny head. Swoon. He grabs some wet food from a drawer and places it on the floor for Binx to enjoy.
“Hmm, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a cat guy.”
“Well, you won’t be pegging me at all, remember? The no check mark next to ass play, well for me anyway,” he jests, and winks at me.
I giggle and smack his shoulder lightly. Maybe one day I could convince him to uncheck that box.
Chapter five
Griffin pours us each a glass of red wine and thankfully it’s sweet and fruity tasting. It reminds me almost of a sangria with its citrus and apple notes. I hum as I take a sip and Griffin gives me a knowing look, like he knew I would want something sweet. He pulls plates out of the cupboard to dish out our meals. We split the ravioli appetizer, which was fantastic, it tasted unreal. Whoever thought to mix ricotta cheese and sweet potato deserves a culinary award.
As he pulls out our entrées, I look at his meal and man, his Bolognese looks so good. I have to stop myself from drooling as I smell the onion and tomato scent of his dish. The noodles are tagliatelle, which means they most likely make all their pasta from scratch, as they should with how much they charge for an entrée. Maybe he’ll share? When I was with Dale and his pack, sharing food was an absolute no-go. I should have known then that it wouldn’t work out.
“Emily, are you eyeing up my Bolognese?”
“Kinda,” I admit to him.
He swirls his fork in the pasta and brings the bite-size portion to my mouth. I open my lips and take a bite, and dang, that is delicious. It’s so good I moan in approval.
“None of those noises, or else we won't finish our meal before I’m all over you.”
“No promises. This is super delicious. Thank you.”
I inhale my gnocchi in a completely unladylike fashion. Griffin is immersed enough in his meal that he doesn’t comment. The buttery potato pasta melts on my tongue and I savor every bite. I have to stop myself from licking up the extra sauce on my plate.
Griffin grabs a small white box and two spoons from the drawer. “Let's try this cherry-misu, shall we?” He hands me the spoon and I take a nice dollop of each of the layers and pop it into my mouth. Ohmygosh. The mascarpone melts on my tongue. The bitterness of the espresso-soaked ladyfingers and the sweetness of the cherry jam contrast perfectly. It elicits another moan from me.
“Oh. We should have gotten two. I don’t think I feel like sharing anymore.” I take my spoon and grab another bite while he stares at me with tenderness in his eyes.
He boops my nose. “If I need to learn to share, so do you, Ms. Collins.” His admission makes me blush.
For Alphas and Omegas, sharing is almost the standard, with the ratio of Alphas to Omegas around 10:1. While not every Alpha needs an Omega to be happy, most Omegas find comfort in having more than one Alpha or partner. It goes beyond just sexual gratification. Omegas are biologically drawn to Alphas like a moth to flame. We physically need them for our heats and emotionally tend to need more affection. Pack life isn’t just for Alphas and Omegas anymore either. There are so many combinations of designations in packs and it's beautiful to see. I’ve always known I would need a pack. I need a lot of affection and reassurance; having just one partner wouldn’t be enough.
I clear my throat. “Are you okay with sharing? I noticed you aren’t in a pack yet.”
“I haven’t done it before, but I’m open. I want a pack. That's part of the reason I joined Heat Haven. I’ve been so focused on making partner at my firm, I kinda let my personal life fall to the wayside.”
“Mmm, I know what you mean. I thought I was going to bond with a pack in Georgia, but it just didn’t work out.”
He arches an eyebrow, “Well, they’re idiots for messing things up with you.”
“Yeah, they missed the whole monogamous polyamory memo, apparently. It was not the best of breakups.”
Spinning myself around the bar stool, I try to figure out what direction to take this conversation. Now is not the time to talk about Dale putting his hands around my throat when I told him I was leaving his pack. I’ve never feared for my life more than I did in that moment. Immediately after the altercation, I packed all of my stuff and stayed at a hotel until I figured out what to do next. There’s no way I could have stayed with someone who cheats and puts their hands on me. We’ll just glance over this part of the story and get to the good parts.
“Anyway, I signed up for a nanny position, willing to move anywhere and well, now I’m here.”
“The situation sounds grim, but I’m glad you’re here,” he says. It makes my cheeks heat and I smile at him.
“I’m glad I’m here, too. As in, not just living in Boston but here at your house.” I motion my hands around his beautiful kitchen.
Griffin gets off his stool and swivels me so he can stand between my legs. Grabbing my jaw gently, he forces my chin up so that I’m looking at him. I stare into his light green eyes and he gives me a smile that shows off those sharp canines of his. I’ve never wanted an Alpha to bite me before. Being bonded is a major commitment, but I would be lying if I wasn’t thinking about it right now. Maybe just a nibble, not a bond mark.
Griffin leans in and grazes his teeth against my neck, and I shiver. He chuckles deviously at me, “You cold, sweetheart?”
“Mmm, a little bit.”
He removes his teeth and lips from my neck and takes a step back. I let out a noise of complaint and he just shakes his head and continues moving over to the fireplace. He flicks two switches on the right-hand side and the fireplace roars to life, sending a blast of heat into the room.
“That should help. Can’t have my girl getting cold, can we?” His girl? It must just be a phrase that he uses with women he sees, right? Maybe not. He said he was joining Heat Haven for direction, not just the sexual aspects.