Page 70 of Abel's Omega
Behind me, the door opened. “Bax?” His voice was watery and nasal, like he’d been crying.
I spun around and raced back up the stairs. “I’m so glad to see you!” It was funny—when I’d lived here before my mating, I’d hardly paid any attention to him at all. I was one of the older omegas, while he’d been right in the middle of that huge glut of us. And, honestly, I’d been more interested in the alphas, figuring on one of them for a mate. And some fun beforehand.
He smiled at me and sniffed. His face was blotchy and his hair, as dark as mine but more waves than curls, was snarled into a bird’s nest of epic proportions. “Hi, Bax. What brings you back to Buffalo Gap.”
“I’m getting mated again. We’re here to talk to Uncle Mitchel about it.”
“Congratulations. I heard that your other mate died.”
I grimaced. “Yeah.”
“Not a happy mating.”
“Not particularly.” I sighed. “It could have been worse. What happened with you? I haven’t heard anything from home since I moved to Jackson-Jellystone.”
“Oh, well. It’s not a very interesting story.”
“I’d bet it’s very interesting. Why are you ‘back’, and where are you back from?”
He glanced down the stairs, then drew me into his room and closed the door. “I’m in disgrace.”
My blood went cold. There were only a few things that would ruin an omega’s reputation so completely. “What happened?”Please let it not be rape.
“I was mated last fall. I’ve been having heats since I was fourteen—I never thought…” His voice trailed away and he collapsed in tears on the bed.
“You never caught.” I sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his back. “I gather he repudiated you.”
Holland nodded, his face still buried in the bedclothes. “He gave me a year, two heats, and when I hadn’t caught on the second one, he declared me infertile and sent me back.” His body shook with weeping. “I don’t know what I’m going to do!” The pitch of his voice had climbed almost to a squeak with the weight of the emotion crushing him, and the last words were choked out between painful sounding sobs.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.But maybe this could be turned to our advantage. “Let me see what I can do.”
“There’s nothing to be done! I’m ruined, and I’m going to spend my life living on charity, if I don’t end up doing worse.” And then, under his breath, so low I almost didn’t hear it. “I don’t want to go to Nevada.”
Nevada. Oh, they were doing well. Not like Mercy Hills, but when prostitution had been legalized north of Las Vegas, they’d jumped on it. I didn’t think they’d force him, but… “Not going to happen. I’ll talk to Abel.”
“He can’t help.”
“Ha!” I stood up. “He’s the Alpha of Mercy Hills. And he’ll help you, because that’s what he’s like.” I kissed the messy knots of hair. “Get up and get yourself tidy, then come down and meet him. I’m going to go downstairs to put them all in a good mood. There’s food in the kitchen?”
“Some.” Holland pushed himself up to sitting. “You really think there’s something to be done?”
“Yes. Now, go wash!” I left him there and raced down the stairs to find Abel. I thought—I’d never really asked him for anything, except to stay in Mercy Hills. Perhaps, this one thing…
“There you are!” Uncle Mitchel scolded. “What on earth took so long? You didn’t bring that much with you.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Mitchel,” I said contritely. “I looked in on Holland. He’s going to come down and we’ll figure out what we need in the way of food. And he’s probably a better cook than me, so it’s a good idea to have him handle the kitchen.”
Uncle Mitchel snorted. “You’ve grown some in the past four years.”
I bit back a sarcastic remark and simply smiled at him. “I’m going to go see what’s in the kitchen.” I made my escape, but shot Abel a look as I passed him.
My future mate was a pretty decent mind reader. He was only a few minutes following me into the kitchen, Fan in tow as if they were looking for a snack to tide him over until our very late supper was ready.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in a low voice. He set Fan on the counter and began rooting around in cupboards.
“Holland’s been repudiated,” I told him, my voice shaking with fury, though I was careful to keep it low enough that my words wouldn’t carry out to the living room. “It’s not fair.”
“What did he do?”
