Page 9 of Omega Chattel
Every part of me wanted to reach out to him. It wasn’t like me to feel this way, more than empathy, more than a bleeding heart do-gooder attitude.
With Kee, it had been about sex from the beginning. I’d wanted to give him more, but I didn’t have what he needed. He wanted to escape. He wanted a high. He wanted freedom without even knowing what the word meant.
I’d been able to give that to Kee if nothing more. He’d never been emotionally or sexually responsive to me outside my Burn, nor I to him beyond the habit of looking for him days before my next scheduled Burn. He liked me because I filled his pockets with bills and gave him his brand of freedom for a few more days or weeks, a few more highs.
But Alli had a different pull, a unique scent. He was a miserable little runaway with no sense having escaped from a structured environment that had threatened him.
Institutionalization was cruel. I had no doubts that his house-dad who abused him and his brothers would have made good on his threat. But Alli had run away to a not much better life in the Trenches. He was young and without a plan. Different from Kee.
Why was I comparing the two of them?
I had a Burn coming up. Of course I needed an Omega for that. And Alli had been on offer. But that had been because of his hunger. His exhaustion. It was against all my principles to take advantage of that.
I had a firm hold on myself. I didn’t take Omegas into my home to fuck them. It had only ever happened with Kee, and only because Kee was a previous Burn partner.
But now something else was happening. It annoyed me to find I wasn’t so pure as to not think of Alli in that light. His potent scent had struck me—sweet and tempting—but he’d been all mouth and desperation when he’d made his offer to me of his virginity. I didn’t want to take advantage of that. Honestly. Virgins weren’t my thing.
But his soft brown hair and the way he’d scrunched up his face as he read the restaurant menu, something he’d never seen before since it was his first time in a diner, made my chest tighten.
I wasn’t a bad man. Not with all the good I had done in the world. But sometimes I had bad thoughts.
Fifteen minutes later I pulled into my driveway.
Alli looked up as the garage door sensor automatically opened to my Jag, his eyes big and bright.
“You live here? In this big house all by yourself?”
I nodded. “I do. But not all by myself.”
He frowned. “You have kids? Or a bond mate?”
I shook my head. “They aren’t my kids. But I have some guests.”
“Oh. How old are you?”
I looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Why?”
“Why don’t you have a bond mate? You’re set for life. You’ve got it all.” He gestured toward the house and the spacious garage where my second car, a red Ferrari, sat.
“That’s a lot of questions,” I replied.
“Well, you’re taking me inside and I don’t know you. Maybe something is wrong with you. Like up here.” Alli tapped the side of his head. “Maybe you’re going to kill me and bury me in your backyard.”
“When you live on the streets, that’s a risk, isn’t it?” I said quietly.
He frowned. “Are you a murderer?”
“No. But if I were, do you think I’d admit it?”
He made an annoyed grunt and glanced warily around as the garage lights came on and I drove in. The door came down behind us.
I opened my door and turned toward him. “I have no intention of seeing you hurt. As I said, I have a guest room. You were sick and you need rest.”
“What ifI’ma murderer?” he asked smartly.
“Well, then I’d defend myself.” I looked him up and down. “What are you, a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet?”
“Who are your guests?”
