Page 17 of Omega's Fire

The cottage door opens before we reach it, and there stands Nash fucking Thorndike. He is casual in a way I’ve never seen him: soft sweater instead of suit jacket, he’s wearing socks, no shoes. He looks like he belongs in this place, comfortable and at ease while I arrive in handcuffs and my boxers.

My scent spikes with fury before I can control it. It’s sharp enough that one of the officers steps back slightly.

Then something curious happens, Thorndike takes one look at me and the cuffs around my wrists and his scent spikes with pure rage, same as mine.

Why? He’s the one who ordered this. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes narrow.

“Dr. Thorndike,” the lead officer nods. “Mr Torres delivered as requested.”

Thorndike’s expression tightens at the phrasing. “Thank you. I’ll take it from here.”

I remain frozen, refusing to move past the threshold.

“Mr. Torres,” the officer prompts. “Inside, please.”

I set my jaw. “This is kidnapping.”

The officer rolls his eyes, then nods towards Thorndike who nods back. “Dr. Thorndike has authorized your release into his custody.”

The officer reaches over and cuts the zip ties at my wrists. Iflex my wrists immediately, grateful for the release. The plastic has left deep pink welts in my skin.

Nash steps back, holding the door wider. “Leo, please come in. We can discuss this like adults.”

Like adults. As if adults kidnapped people who rejected them. As if adults used the damned police to pull unwilling mates from their beds in the early hours of the morning. I want to spit the words back in his face, but the officers are watching and I already had one baton to the legs. It’s not like I can punch them in the nose and make a miraculous escape.

I step inside and Nash follows.

The door closes behind us. That glorious scent of his is stronger here, in the indoors with him so close by. I try breathing through my mouth, but I can feel how his proximity makes my body react. Heat prickles over my skin. It’s not unpleasant.

I hear the sound of the car start up as the officers drive away, leaving me alone with Thorndike in what is easily the most beautiful cage I’ve ever seen.

I don’t speak. I don’t acknowledge Thorndike’s greeting or the offered tour. I simply move through the space, taking in every detail and trying to map my exit. There must be some weaknesses in the security.

I don’t want to be here with him. His scent is maddening.

The lake stretches beyond the back deck, pristine blue water extending to the compound’s perimeter fence. The fence itself disappears into the water at a depth I can’t judge from here, designed to prevent swimmers from escaping underneath.

It’s thorough. Inescapable.

The cottage’s interior is equally meticulous. It has tasteful furniture and state-of-the-art appliances. Everything is cosy, designed for nesting. There are pillows everywhere, and I can see blankets stacked on shelves.

Everything designed to create an illusion of compatibility andchoice. Everything except the single, king-sized bed dominating the bedroom.

I turn sharply, finding Thorndike watching me from the doorway. I know what we are expected to do in that bed.

“Don’t even think about it,” I say, voice like ice, and I don’t know if I am instructing him or me. Because I’m not going to think about it. I’m not going to think about him in that bed with me, both of us naked, warm skin on mine.

I grit my teeth and turn away from the bed. All I have to do is keep saying no. That’s it. Ignore him. Say no. It’s somehow both simple and the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life.

Thorndike has the audacity to look calm. Reasonable. “There’s no need to make this more difficult than it has to be. We’re both adults. We can share a bed without—”

“I’ll sleep on the floor before I lie next to you.” The words burn in my throat. “You had me dragged here in cuffs. You think I’m going to curl up beside you like a pet dog? After how you’ve treated me?”

“The officers weren’t my idea,” Thorndike says, a flicker of genuine discomfort crossing his features. “I authorized the transfer, yes. But not the method. I didn’t know they would cuff you. We should bring your things in. They’ll have left them outside. This place is only for us.”

My eyebrows raise higher than I knew possible. “What things? Do you think it was my choice to turn up here in my boxers?”

I rub at my wrists, still pink from the cuffs. “You knew exactly what you were doing. How long are you going to keep me here?”

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