His Unidentified & Untouchable Mate

Rowan's Lead

Zahraa POV

The Oracle had seemed like an excellent lead, until she told me where the Oracle was. In the basement of a seedy back-alley pub that she liked because the bouncer was too drunk off his ass to check IDs.

More than likely a side show act. And certainly not somewhere I wanted to be caught – I was still recovering from the idea that I’d hung out in a bar all night on graduation night.

But Tanis’s lead reminded me that I had another on hold.

The next morning, I rifled through my belongings and found the form Rowan had given me – then froze.

He’d given me this form in the duration of a conversation that had no longer happened. Which meant it certainly wasn’t just a dream. I wasn’t sure what that meant. For a moment, I thought I should show Alpha Rowan and convince him that we did talk, but I dismissed it quickly. He would assume I’d stolen the form before he believed that.

So, I couldn’t use a piece of paper to prove that the challenge had happened. Sure. Fine. Whatever – but there was plenty of information on that paper.

It was a release of records that needed my therapist’s signature. At first glance, it might not offer any definitive clues, but the header of the form was for an office I didn’t recognize; Utterman & Gurtz.

It sounded like a law office to me, but I searched it on the computer and found out it was actually something of a metaphysical shop. Steven Utterman did very accurate tarot card readings, and Heidi Gurtz did deep-dive hypnosis sessions. For certain readings, she would ask a therapist to release a statement of the patient’s well-being beforehand.

The sessions ranged from $500 to $1,500.

I groaned, shutting the computer. That was the problem with being a ward of the pack; while I’d worked as an omega, I did get something of an allowance. That allowance was to cover snacks, clothes, school supplies etc. It was not enough for hundreds of dollars thrown at deep-dive hypnosis sessions.

I wracked my brain for how to continue. Rowan didn’t know I had this form. Sure, he’d said he’d take care of everything during that last conversation, but he didn’t know that. So I had two choices; I could try to make this come up organically again – like his awkward love confession had – or I could simply tell him I had it, tell him I knew that he wanted to go through with it, and ask for him to set it up.

Both felt like they had some glaring plot holes.

My phone buzzed and I checked the caller ID: Jacob.

Part of me wanted so badly to answer it. Maybe it was a work thing?

But no. No, I told him I’d quit and there was no need for him to contact me. I blocked the call and carried on.

I’d have to talk to Rowan one way or the other, so I figured I would walk to the central pack house while I worked that out.

Plan 1:

What could I bother him with that would lead him to bring up the form? What excuse would I have to be in his office? If he determined that I was just bothering him to bother him, would he assume I was reciprocating his feelings? What then?

Plan 2:

I would definitely get sent to a hospital with grippy socks for a while. If not that, a cell for violating my alpha’s trust and stealing what I hadn’t stolen.

I made it to the central pack house and stared at the door for a moment. I turned around and almost ran smack into someone.

“Zahraa. I hadn’t expected to see you today.” Rowan smiled, and he was so handsome that I remembered why I’d fallen so hard for him before. Where had that attraction gone, I wondered?

Then I remembered how heavy handed and frightening he’d been the other day, and that question died.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Yes,” I blurted. I realized my mistake when he looked at me as though he expected me to tell him what. You know – like a rational person would. “Um. Uh.” I said, very intelligently.

He chuckled, and offered me his arm, like some old-fashioned gentleman in a black and white movie. “Let’s talk in my office, then.”

I stared at it. Now was not the time to snub him – not when you needed a very expensive deep dive therapy.

I took his arm and offered him a smile. His was radiant like the sun, and left me again questioning rather or not I’d imagined things that night. Maybe I’d implied that I would like his lips against mine, albeit through a thin cloth. Maybe my body had called out to his completely of its own accord.

I mean, if he’d asked politely beforehand, would I have said no?

I was pondering these thoughts, my heart trying hard to convince me to accept my crush’s feelings, when we arrived at his office. He shuffled me inside and shut the door after himself.

And then I remembered why I wanted to avoid him.

He towered over me, looking down the slope of his nose at me, yet mixing in that look of a dog lusting for a perfectly cooked steak.

I would be consumed.

I swallowed. “About our talk yesterday…”

“Ah,” he sat down, but not at his desk. No, he had a papasan couch that – to hear the other omegas tell it – he liked to take naps in during the lull of a slow day. He patted the cushion beside him. “Did a good night’s sleep clarify things for you?”

I looked at the seat. Again, not the time to snub him.

So, I sat.

The thing about a papasan couch is that it kind of cups you. The seat slopes backwards making you fall into the comfy cushion – and if you’re sitting there with another person, it practically shoves you against them.

Rowan used that opportunity to put his arm around my shoulders. He watched my struggle to remain separate, and the growing embarrassment on my cheeks and smiled.

“You look so cute when you’re struggling,” he said, practically laughing. “Here,” he moved a little further away, giving me the space that I’d wanted.

“Um. Yeah,” I finally replied. “It… well. No?”

Rowan’s brow quirked in a silent order to clarify.

“I was convinced it was a dream,” I explained. “Until I found this.” I took the paper out of my pocket and unfolded it, handing it to him.

It was fascinating to watch the light and amusement die from his expression. A stone-faced façade replaced it. “How did you get this?”

“You gave it to me,” I replied. “When we talked about the challenge.” I tapped the paper, “You said that you would set everything up after your fight with Jacob, but you needed me to give this to my therapist.”

He stared at the paper like it had offended him, then at me as if I were a puzzle missing several pieces. For a moment, I almost sensed anger amongst his cocktail of confusion, but it vanished quickly.

He stood. “I was working on preparing this for you,” he announced. “Professor Gurtz is an old friend of a friend of a friend. I’d always known I was going to try to send you to her, I just needed you old enough to consent to hypnosis.”

“I am now,” I replied, simply. “So, can we do it?”

There was a thrill of anticipation through my chest as he took a seat back at his desk, alpha mode activated.

“We can,” he spoke cautiously, as if he still weren’t too sure about my story. “But first, I need to tell you a few things.”