Page 41 of No Escape

Valor is pure muscle, and, together, I’m sure we weigh a lot.

“I’m right-handed.” The massive alpha reaches around me to grab the other tray and pulls it closer. “You’re left-handed—based on the way you tended my wounds. You stay on your side. I’ll stay on mine, then no one has to sit on the dirty floor.”

It’s not technically the floor, but I appreciate the sentiment.

Omen’s eyes meet mine, and they sparkle as his lips tip up. “Our first meal as a happy family. How about that?” Dimples appear in his scruff, and it’s hard to think with how handsome he is.

Not to mention being surrounded by both of their scents.

That guy said the fastest way out of here might be with a bond. Now that they’ve flushed my suppressants, I have no idea how long I’ll even be able to hold out before going into heat.

Alphas and omegas who ride out a heat together almost always end up bonded.

My heart races as my pulse picks up.

What exactly would happen if I went into heat while trapped in here with Omen and Valor?

“Eat,” the grouchy alpha says, bumping his chest against my back.

Shaking my head, I grab the tray and work on getting the container open. I need something else to focus on and fast.

* * *

I’ve never sat on someone’s lap for a meal.

It’s nice and kinda intimate.

It’s more comfortable than sitting on the hard metal chair, and Valor plants his hand around my middle as I lean back against his chest once I’m finished eating.

I’m not sure what they served us, but it wasn’t bad. It was some kind of meatball in brown gravy with mashed potatoes and steamed veggies. It wasn’t nearly as awful as what I imagine food is like in a jail or institution in the US.

“Done?” Omen asks, standing.

I nod.

He grabs both of our trays and takes them to the trash can by the door before dumping them. I can’t see him since he’s behind us, but it sounds like he stacks them up on the small bookcase by the door. Once he’s done, he returns, this time snagging Valor’s tray.

“You seemed to enjoy what they served,” Valor says, soothing his large hand over my stomach.

“If it was something gross…” I laugh. “Please don’t tell me.”

“Beef and pork meatballs, if I had to guess,” Omen says, coming back to the table and taking a seat. “You two look cozy. I wish they hadn’t confiscated my mobile. I would have snapped a picture of the two of you.”

Valor’s hand leaves my stomach, and he flips off his packmate.

“What do you normally do to pass the time until bed?” I ask, and my face heats.

They’re bonded. I imagine they pass the time in all sorts of intimate ways. The bed situation confuses me a little because Omen specifically pointed out which loft they each sleep in.

Then again, the lofts have to be full- or queen-size. It’s hard to tell exactly since I haven’t been inside either loft area. Maybe Valor is simply too big for them to comfortably share a bed…

Which leads to the realization—I have no idea where I’m supposed to sleep tonight.

“We play cards, checkers, or occasionally chess,” Omen says, drawing my attention. “Other times, we exercise and leave each other alone. It’s hard not to get on the other person’s last nerve when we’re constantly right on top of each other.” Spinning in his chair, he grabs the reusable shopping bag that came with the food. “Let’s see what your friend gifted you.” He drops the container onto the table, but I’m more focused on what he said when we first got in.

I vaguely remember him mentioning the bin behind the table was filled with what he called courting gifts. My system lights up at the thought of goodies meant for me. It’s a ridiculous reaction, but omegas spend our entire lives waiting to be courted.

My mom used to tell me stories of how romantic my dad was. He asked her on a date every Friday night for two months. Each outing was something new and had a theme they followed.

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