Heatless by E. Rose Lynn

Author:E. Rose Lynn [Lynn, E. Rose]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBTQIA Paranormal Omegaverse Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group
Published: 2024-03-13T00:00:00+00:00

* * * *

The car that comes is a black town car, the sort that’s discreet and luxurious and comes with a well-dressed Beta man who open the door for her and offers her a hand in. Which is helpful, because she’s back in her ridiculous four-inch heels, which make getting into and out of cars a non-trivial matter.

The back of the car is dark, all black leather and tinted windows. There are bottles of water in a fancy chilled container, still and sparkling, from one of those ten-dollar-a-bottle brands. And when the driver gets in, he says, “There’s an intercom button on each door. Please let me know if you need anything.” Then he raises a divider, leaving her in a luxurious darkness.

It’s just turning to twilight outside, and the lights blur alongside the car into something ethereal, almost magical. It’s quiet inside the car, too, like it’s an electric car or it has some sort of sound dampening.

It almost feels like she’s in another world.

They end up somewhere in Penn Quarter, or at least near it, and this time Damon is the one who opens the door and helps her out of the car. He’s in an even nicer suit, with a tie that looks almost black in the light of the streetlights.

“You look stunning,” he tells her. He scents her wrist as always, but he lingers, eyes closed as he breathes in her scent. “And you smell…exquisite.”

“You look great, too.” She reaches out to smooth down his tie, just as an excuse to touch him. “So, what is this place?”

“For fear of sounding extremely pretentious,” Damon says, “it’s an invitation-only restaurant.” He leads her down a set of stairs to a nondescript basement, bracing her so she doesn’t fall. She clutches the railing on the other side, imagining how much it would hurt to scrape herself up on the exposed brick.

There’s a slender Beta woman in a sharp black sheath dress standing at the door. She takes a metal card that Damon hands her and scans it with her tablet, then hands it back. “The maître d’ will show you to your table.”

“Thanks.”

Inside, another Beta woman in a similar black dress shows them to a table in the back corner of the room, saying, “Your waiter will be with you momentarily. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.”

“Thank you,” Damon says. He helps Kara into her seat, then sits down himself.

From the inside, the restaurant looks like the sort of place for new rich people, with stark lines and nothing too stuffy. Each table has a plate with an elaborately folded white napkin, and on top of it is a small, crisp menu.

There are no prices.

“Dare I ask—”

“Please don’t,” Damon says. “It is my pleasure to provide for you, and I know it will make you uncomfortable to know how much it costs.”

Kara can argue—but it won’t make either of them happy, and at this point it just feels kind of silly.

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