Page 13 of Your Wild Omega

Zack pauses, wheezing from the run. He stiffens, and glances up and down as he registers the sliding sensation of the moving elevator. I use that distraction to cling to his chest, and he instantly tugs me close.

The alpha rumbles with fury, the vibration translating through our bare skin contact. “Mine,” he mutters darkly, heaving for breath.

“Yes, Zack. Mine.” I swivel as much as his tight grip allows and reach for Rickon. “And mine.”

Something like a spark runs through the bond, and Zack draws himself up taller. “Mine?”

A tear slips down my cheek, which goes to show how utterly exhausted I am, because I fucking hate crying. “Yes, Zack. This is Rickon. He’s mine.”

Rickon takes my hand, and I pull him closer, until I can rest his fingers on Zack’s chest beside mine. My bonded mate shivers at the touch. Slowly he cranes his head past me toward Rickon’s neck. I reach up to cover Zack’s mouth, just in case, but he only inhales deeply.

Fear chars Rickon’s vanilla scent, but it’s quickly replaced by a sweet and buttery blossoming of his alpha musk.

Zack’s hand shoots out, grabbing Rickon and squashing him into my side. Zack’s blue eyes fill with confusion as he looks down at the two of us, more than can fill his hands since he’s also carrying me. The murderous intent in the bond dies away.

“Thank you, Zack,” I whisper, stroking his jaw.

The wild alpha skims his hand up Rickon’s arm until his fingers rest on the smaller alpha’s dyed hair. He ruffles strands over his fingers, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“That’s white hair, Zack. Have you ever met anyone with white hair?”

Zack grunts and goes back to gripping Rickon’s arm, locking us tight together.

Something momentous just happened, but we have no time to enjoy it because the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Fresh batches of fear and anger burst through Zack’s malt barley scent as he snarls at the change.

I want to weep and collapse from the nervous strain, but we’re almost home, so I swallow down my emotion. A few more steps.

More OCB agents cordon off the ground floor lobby, and Zack growls in warning.

“We have to go out there,” Rickon murmurs. He slips around the quivering alpha and touches a hand to Zack’s back while also pressing the door button so they stay open.

Zack rocks one step forward.

“Try that again,” I whisper.

Rickon pushes and Zack takes another step, moving us through the doors. One hesitant step after another, Rickon pressures my new alpha across the lobby and into the other elevator. We both heave a sigh of relief as the doors close, locking us in again.

Exhaustion drags on me, and suddenly I jerk awake from a micro-nap. A door clicks shut, and I blink to see the familiar shapes of Callisto’s apartment. The lawyer and two OCB agents who’ll remain with us stand in the living area, waiting to see what we’ll do.

I peer around, meeting Rickon’s tired smile over Zack’s shoulder. The fact Zack’s turned his back to the pale alpha says everything I need to know. “I need sleep,” I mumble, unable to lift my head off Zack’s shoulder. “And so does he.”

Callisto steps forward, met by Zack’s instant warning rumble. “We’ve converted the library for Zack.”

Rickon pushes Zack a few more steps inside the apartment, and as he turns, the refurbished library comes into view. The books have all disappeared, and iron bars loom where the butchered door used to be. Like Rose’s house, but a bigger room.

“No,” I say tiredly, sweat trickling down my back.

Callisto frowns. “But, Red, that’s how the rehab program works. He’s too dangerous to roam around the house.”

“No more cages,” I snap. Fuck, haven’t we both been trapped for too long? I’m not going back, and neither is my mate.

Zack feeds on my irritation and spins, snarling at the other alphas.

I understand Rose needs cages because she has two ferals to deal with and Rose herself is a more fragile person. But my alpha was in prison a lot longer than her alphas, and he won’t be going back into any more confinement. Just like I won’t be using the nest upstairs.

Rickon bravely rests a hand on both of us, and his vanilla scent calms me immediately. Zack’s warning growl fades to a rumble. I’ll have to be more careful about my emotions, since Zack’s got a direct line to them.

“Red, you’ll be going back on set in nine days,” Rickon says. “He’ll have to stay here then, won’t he?”

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