Chapter Text
Lestrade saw the Alpha across the room. He was tall and attractive and expensive. He and another man – a lawyer for sure, Lestrade knew the type all too well – were with the Chief Superintendent, who almost seemed intimidated by the Alpha’s supercilious air. Greg figured that anyone who could intimidate Superintendent Kahn had to be pretty important. The Alpha’s eyes swept the large room, detectives bustling about, working at their desks, conferring here and there – everyone quickly finding something to do with the Chief Superintendent in their midst.
“DC Lestrade.” It was his DCI, Gregson. She was with the Superintendent and the civilians. Lestrade joined them, feeling acutely self-conscious. “Mr. Holmes this is DC Lestrade, one of our best young detectives. He was on scene in Camden.” Gregson told the Alpha. She turned to Lestrade. “Mr Holmes has some information about the riot. Take his statement and then make sure he gets back to the Superintendent’s office.”
“Sure, Guv. Mr. Holmes, this way please.”
“DC Lestrade.” Gregson touched his arm lightly. “Use my office.”
Lestrade felt his eyebrows rise but didn’t comment. He gestured in the opposite direction. “This way, then.”
He shut the door behind the Alpha and tapped the chair next to the desk. The Alpha seated himself comfortably, in that way Alphas have – totally at ease and simultaneously completely in charge.
As he sat behind the desk, Lestrade surveyed the other man: His long, lean frame dominated the chair and his expressive face was appealingly freckled – something that offset the man's inborn arrogance… but oddly his fussy suit seemed designed to draw attention away from his youth and vitality, and the coif of his auburn hair highlighted rather than hid the beginnings of a receding hairline. Odd choice, that.
Lestrade caught an undiluted whiff of the Alpha’s scent... it was... divine. Smoky and spicy and completely intoxicating... like a fine 50-year-old whisky… he wanted to press his face into that long, lovely neck…
“DC Lestrade?”
Lestrade remembered himself abruptly. Betas can’t detect individual scents. Lestrade reminded himself firmly. And I am a Beta. And a police officer. He smiled professionally, pencil poised. “You have information about the riot in Camden three days ago?”
Lestrade was aware that he was good looking, tall enough and handsome enough with an appealing hangdog charm. He’d discovered that with a minimum of effort he could pull pretty much any Beta, male or female, that he wanted. And occasionally he did. But he’d never dared seduce an Alpha. With Betas he could call the shots, he could top, keeping his partner away from the anatomy that would give him away. But an Alpha would want to fuck him... Greg couldn't allow that. Considering his situation, it would be crazy to even consider sex with an Alpha.
As he listened to the Alpha’s tale – his brother, the mate chosen for him, his escape – it underlined exactly why getting involved with an Alpha was a terrible idea. This man was his brother’s keeper, believed his brother needed a keeper... Lestrade had escaped that life.
Flirting with this Alpha, even seeing him again, would be playing with fire.
When the interview was finished, Lestrade gave Mr. Holmes his card and did not let his fingers touch and linger. He kept his smile professional and didn’t hold eye contact one second longer than was polite.
He ignored the heady, smoky scent.
When he bid Mr. Holmes goodbye, he thought he sensed disappointment.