Page 40 of Omega Untamed
“Who influences him? You’re pretty close to him, right? Did you hear gossip about me? Did you go along with his ridiculous and paranoid conclusions about a street Omega who only likes to party a little hard?”
Bast had his back to me when he answered. “I suggested maybe his cousin and friend were loud, and if they drank a lot—which they always did—they might have a tendency to brag to their bed partners.”
Bast’s shoulders went taut. He gave a tiny jerk of his head which, if I hadn’t been looking right at him, I would have missed. The tells were obvious. Bast thought he was to blame for my predicament.
“I didn’t even know you. In Moosie’s that night, that was the first time I ever saw you,” I said.
“Yes. I didn’t know your name. Others did. By reputation alone, you were convicted.”
“But you believe me, right? That I didn’t tell any cops a thing about anyone, not your boss, or who sold me steam on any given night. Nothing. I don’t rat on people.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
The tight shoulders went back even further, causing a crease down the spine of his perfect, black shirt. He wouldn’t face me. “Yes. I believe you.”
It was as if air came into me, lifting a heaviness from my body which I’d felt ever since Myre had kidnapped me. I couldn’t figure out why it was so important to me that Bast believe me. Believeinme. But there it was. That strange need for someone to know my truth. And to not condemn me just because they saw Omega gutter trash, a no good soon to be washed-up whore.
“I know I’m trash, but there is still some honor in the streets.”
Bast turned half toward me, the kitchen light outlining his black-clad form in pale blue. “I never thought you were trash.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Why not? Everyone does. Alphas most especially.”
“Most Omegas are raised to rent their bodies.”
“Yeah, but most operate under established businesses. Farms, cloister homes, clubs and brothels. Most aren’t fucked up addicts.”
He turned and contemplated me, his brow smooth now, his lips slightly parted. He was beautiful when he wasn’t trying to be all tough and hard-assed. “The laws in place prohibit you from moving forward. That does not make you trash.”
“I had a chance to move forward once. An Alpha. Willing to teach me. To sponsor me.” I bowed my head at my memories with Tarin. One of the good ones.
Bast swung his hands behind his back. “Yes, all those messages from a single source on your phone. Tarin. You mentioned him.”
“Yes. And I chose the gutter instead. I chose my freedom and my stupid life and my steam.”
How did this happen? Suddenly, the conversation was getting far too personal.
Bast blinked twice, slowly. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”
“My reason for steam is that I like it.” My face heated. “I like being high.”
He took a breath. Opened his mouth. Closed it. And ended up saying nothing.
The silence grated. “It’s easier,” I said, filling the room with my voice. “Easier than reality. Easier than thinking about being a waste of space, of breath, of other people’s time.”
He continued to assess me with that unnerving stare.
I continued. “I don’t like being alone.” My voice hitched. I went to the couch and sat down hard. “That’s why I had the TV on so loud. Why I was spinning around the room. That’s a natural high.” I felt my lips curve up a bit. “I hate being alone.”
“I’m doing my best.” His tone softened. I almost didn’t hear the way he took a breath between his sentences. “There’s no other way right now. No one we can trust.”
“It’s all right.” I leaned my head all the way back on the couch until my hair touched the curtains behind it, and blinked away a sting in my eyes. “I’m a big boy. I’ll manage.”
It was certainly ironic that thugs had tried to kill me and now I was hiding in a thug’s home. Well, apartment, actually. It barely looked lived in. He’d done so much for me, though. How could I ask for more?
But it sucked that now Bast was home, it was already night. He’d sleep and leave again in the morning. I’d sleep and wake alone for tomorrow. And the next day and the next.
