The Forbidden Omega

Chapter Twelve: A small comfort

I prepare all five of Soren's trial cakes as precisely and accurately as I can, knowing my Omega will be sampling them in just a few hour's time. And also being well aware that *Jason* was going to look for any excuse in the book to hurt my Soren. Gabriel assists where he can, timing each cake to perfection, his kind nature unable to let me handle the task alone. I couldn't be more grateful for him in this moment.

"Time!" Gabe calls out, as the stopwatch beeps, and I test the latest batch, before pulling the cakes from the oven, and sliding in the last round of batter. I grin at the rainbow chips that fill the sponge mixture, as they melt into the mixture, coloring the cake once baked. Soren was going to love this last one, I could feel it.

Gabe kicks his heels against the wooden leg of the workstation, as he perches on the butcher block counter, a small grin on his face as he resets the timer with my correct duration. "Aiden," he says softly, as I begin compulsively cleaning the prep area, his tone lightly reprimanding. I look up, as he raises an eyebrow. "You're unreasonably worried. What's so special about the latest clients? Unbearably rich snobs? Mafia?" The impudent beta sniggers as he picks a piece of lint off of his skinny jeans, smirking at me.

"I need it to be perfect," I retort, giving him a falsely confident smirk in return. I feel my legs wobble as the fourth hour ticks by. Gods above, how could I do this?

"Aiden, you're never this worried." His voice is a deadpan, as he gives me a look as if he knows I'm hiding something. And by his actions, his stealing the task of cleaning from me, he flatly disapproves of it. "Just sayin', boss, this level of freak out is reserved for a first date."

"The Omega coming is a really close friend of mine. I need it to be perfect for him." I evade the real reason, as I carefully prepare a quick cup of tea to settle my nerves. My hands shake as I add the chamomile and lavender blossoms to the near boiling water, and I almost spill all over myself when I attempt to take a small sip.

I catch Gabe sucking on his cheek, as he studies me, a hand on his hip, eyes dark. "Bull."

I growl under my breath in response, an empty threat to my protegée, who knew I would never lay even a finger on him in anger. I could never hurt the young beta, no matter how many times his insightful comments struck a nerve. He'd been through enough hell with his alcoholic old man. He didn't need another alpha laying a beating on him. I sigh, sipping my tea again, and resting my shoulder on the large fridge to one side of the kitchen.

Gabe sits back onto the worktop, his feet no longer drumming against the supports as he looks at me. "This Omega is your mate, isn't he?" I hang my head in abject defeat, as Gabe sighs softly. "This guy's your mate, and you're worried about making it perfect for him. But he's marrying someone else." Gabriel lets out a low whistle, adding, "That's rough, boss."

I wet my lips, looking deep into the purple depths of my tea, nodding in reply. My shoulders are tensed, coiled like springs as I fight the urge to run. My eyes glow gold in my pain, if only Soren could simply *smell* me. "Alpha laws forbid challenging for an Omega's hand. I can't save him." My voice is a broken whisper as I admit defeat to my friend, the tea finally calming the anxiety.

"I'm so sorry." I can tell that he means it. Gabe was a good kid, and would never wish this upon his worst enemy.

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, and spill my anguish over Soren. "He's my mate, yeah, but he can't *smell* me. I can't understand why…" I finish the brew, and scrub out the mug with a vengeance, trying to use the action to ease my heartbreak. "He just doesn't want me…" A solitary tear falls into the dish water, and I grit my teeth in agony.

"Man," he mutters, as I rearrange the dishes stacked in the drainer. I wipe my hands on my apron before running them through my hair. It seems like Gabe is holding in a comment, his face looking like he was desperately trying not to sneeze.

"Say it," I growl softly, "I know you have a question."

"Is he your *true* mate?"

I sigh, wrapping my muscled arms around my middle as I try to hold the broken pieces of my soul together. "Yes." I curse the convoluted mating laws, and the nonexistent loophole I haven't found yet. The one miniscule line that would give me permission to rend Jason for harming my mate.

But unless Soren's life was without a shadow of a doubt in danger, or unless there's veritable proof that Jason is coercing him into marriage, I cannot rescue my mate from his would be r****t. Soren has to decide to leave.

And from what I've seen so far, there isn't a snowball's chance in hell of that happening.