Page 34 of Saving the Pack's Omega

I shove that thought away. I don’t know if I can handle processing my attraction to them. Especially when I should hate all alphas.

But I don’t.

I know I don’t hate any of the alphas here, not even Archer, even though he was big and scary and a little mean. Sure, I’m abit scared of them, but what omega in my position wouldn’t be?

I glance around myself to see, to my absolute horror, that I’ve built myself a bit of a nest in my sleep. I’ve tugged up the soft comforter so it’s loose and piled around me. The pillows from the top of the bed are scattered about like a mini pillow-fort.

And here I am in the center of all this softness and comfort, clutching the pile of t-shirts carrying my alpha’s scents.

I shake my head.

No. Not my alphas. I have no claim to them.

If they wanted to go out and bring another omega into their home I would have no say.

I don’t know why that thought has me burying myself deeper into my makeshift nest, trying to seek comfort in their scents, but it doesn’t sit well with me. Just the thought of that has nasty, jealous thoughts floating around my brain.

I can’t be thinking like that.

Maybe this nest and their clothes are making me forget who I am. What my place here is. Even if they’re kind, I’m still an omega and they’re still a pack of alphas.

I was never allowed a nest back at home. My parents just didn’t have the money to start buying a ton of pillows and blankets for me, and Alpha Niall never thought I was worthy of one, though he taunted me with the idea while I crawled to his feet, cold and naked in that disgusting cellar.

I roll out of bed, and as painful as it is to start putting the pillows and blankets in their rightful place, I do it.

I have to. I can’t let myself get too comfortable here.

Once I’m done, I check the clock beside the bed.

Oh my god, it’s 11 in the morning. I didn’t mean to sleep in. I wanted to wake up and find out if there was anything I could do around the house to earn my keep.

It’s also been eight hours since my last dose of pain medication, and I’m starting to feel the ache again.

But I can’t take it yet, not without eating.

I glance at the door.

Chase was right. No one came in here while I was sleeping to use me.

Does this mean I can trust them? I’m not sure. I don’t even know what trusting them would look like.

But I do know food is downstairs.

Hesitation still fills every single cell in my body. Going out there, seeing them again, will make everything real.

Hiding in here isn’t going to do anything helpful.

Clutching the pill bottle in my hand, I turn the doorknob and step out into the hallway. It’s empty. The house is also shockingly quiet as if they’re all gone.

When I make my way to the kitchen without seeing anyone, I hesitate again. Less so because I haven’t seen anyone and more so because their kitchen is crazy.

I don’t think I really understood the luxury of their home when they brought me in at night. During the day, sunlight streams through the windows and shines on all stainless steel appliances, with shelves I don’t even know how to open. There are glittering granite countertops and a stove with ten different burners and a griddle. Who needs ten different stove burners?

I jump when I hear noises from behind me. Before I have time to scurry back up the stairs, a door opens, revealing Madden, his thick, muscular, tattooed arms full of bags full of what look to be groceries.

He stops in the doorway, long enough for me to see that the door leads out to the garage.

“Oh shit, good morning!” Madden says, his eyes wide in shock. In the light, my eyes are drawn to the scar on his cheek. It looks old. And like it was made with something like a knife.

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