Page 19 of Abel's Omega
“Jason’s a good cook,” Mac said, settling down in the chair in the corner of the room with his mug.
“What choice did I have?” Jason laughed. He set the baby monitor on the floor next to the couch and plugged it in, and Mac pulled him down into his lap.
Hmph.Well, I could learn to cook.Fuck.It wasn’t important right now, anyway.
We ate our meals in silence, but it wasn’t the strained one of earlier. More that of companions who didn’t feel the need to fill the quiet with unnecessary words. I had been hungry, and the food—tender meat in some tangy sauce, mashed potatoes and corn—filled the cold, tired space inside me. I felt much better once I’d cleaned my plate, and was pleased to see Fan plowing through his meal with single-minded Alpha determination.
I also noticed that the Alpha was only picking at his food. He’d likely already eaten that evening, but here he was, having a second meal to encourage my little alpha to eat his own veggies.
He’d make a good father. I shut down that line of thought immediately. Mating another Alpha was more than I could handle right now, or ever, maybe. And the mating of an Alpha of his stature would be a long, convoluted process, designed more to further pack relations than to provide four needy pups with an alpha figure. Besides, the Alpha of Mercy Hills didn’t look like he’d be a disinterested mate, and that was really what I was looking for.
I ate the last mouthful of my meal, and had to admit I felt so much better than I had when I started. Jason abandoned Mac and nipped the plate out from in front of me, then took Fan’s plate as well before his sleepy face could land in the last of his mashed potatoes. Just in time, too—he laid his head on the table and drifted off within seconds.
The Alpha got up and followed Jason into the kitchen with his still mostly-full plate. I heard the murmur of voices, but I was too tired to borrow from my wolf and eavesdrop. Then the Alpha came out of the kitchen, followed by Jason. Some hidden signal brought Mac to his feet.
“Let’s get the pups to bed,” the Alpha said. “Everyone’s exhausted.” He turned to me. “We’ll find you some place to stay tomorrow. For now, Jason and Mac will host you.” He stepped closer and I rose to my feet. “Get some sleep,” he told me. “We can talk some more tomorrow and make a plan.” His voiced softened, to not much more than a murmur. “It’s okay. You’re safe here now. You can rest.”
Until he said those words, I hadn’t realized how much of my life was built around protecting myself, and protecting my pups, and how much energy I’d spent on it. A wave of dizziness washed over me again at the possibilities his words raised before me, but I thought I hid it well. Certainly, no one in the room reacted to it. “Thank you,” was all I could think to say.
He smiled, and turned for the door, nodding at Mac as he left.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
After the Alpha left, we took my babies upstairs and I checked on Noah in the crib while Jason tucked Fan and Teca into a nest of blankets on the mattress on the floor. Beatrice was sound asleep still, and I paused to watch them for a moment, so quiet and certain of their safety. It made me even more determined to see them into a better place than what was waiting for them back in Jackson-Jellystone.
Jason came over and smiled at them, then touched my shoulder and moved us both away. “You can sleep on the couch if you want. Abel’s going to bring back more blankets.”
“I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind. I don’t want them to wake up alone in a new place.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, okay. I understand. But you’ll still want the blankets.”
Again, the incredible generosity. It was so strange—I’d come here hoping for it, but it still surprised me with every thoughtful word and gesture. “Thank you.” It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse, out of nothing more than foolish pride, but I didn’t have the liberty to indulge that any more. I was a beggar, and I didn’t dare pick and choose my charity.
“I’ll call you when Abel gets here?”
“Please. I think… Do you mind… I’d like a few moments to…think.”
Jason smiled kindly at me and left, closing the door behind him, and I was alone with my babies. I settled down on the mattress with the oldest three and curled my body around them. A bone deep weariness settled on me again, and I wondered, if I’d been living on adrenaline and hope the past four years, what would sustain me now. Gently, I stroked the dark curls on Fan’s head back into order, and thought about the conversation that evening.
Abel. I still couldn’t bring myself to call him by that, not in public. It suited him, and I found myself wondering what his beard would feel like if he were to kiss me, though I was afraid to go further than that. I was a mess of conflicting emotions—Patrick hadn’t been far off calling me randy, though I enjoyed the idea of sex more than the actual activity, once I’d gotten to experience it in more than just my imagination. I’d never initiated it, but once my initial distaste was overcome, I’d almost always participated. Some bone deep hunger for affection and gentle touch lay at the root of it, I suspected. The omega hormones were doing their job, too, I was sure. It made me wonder what was wrong with me, or where I’d gone wrong my in expectations of what it should be like. Maybe I should stop reading the novels, but they’d been my only comfort for a long time and even thinking about giving them up gave me a hollow feeling just under my heart.
Maybe I should just not have expectations for the bedroom. Other omegas seemed to be happy with their half-lives—I would make it so for myself as well. In the meantime…
I sat up and reached for my bag. Tucked into one front pocket was a battered copy of my favorite novel, one of half a dozen I’d crammed into random corners of our bags while I packed. I probably didn’t even need the book anymore; I’d read it so many times I could have likely told myself the story word for word.
But this time, it was different. As I read, the dashing millionaire grew a beard, and in my mind, his eyes were brown, though on the page they were blue. And then the plot disappeared completely, and it was me and Abel, and we were somewhere where the world couldn’t find us.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” I told myself, and closed the book with a snap.
I decided I’d go wash my face before the Alpha came back and then I’d have a good night’s sleep, screw my head back on straight, and wake up ready to tackle whatever my new future would be.
I used the toilet, then examined what was available around the sink. A square of handcut soap rested on a saucer to one side of the tap, a creamy tan speckled with bits of herb. I lifted it to my nose and sniffed—lavender. A common scent, but not unpleasant. I remembered helping to make the community’s soap in Jackson-Jellystone, all the saved fat from the meat we bought melted down and mixed with lye. In Buffalo Gap, we’d run water through ash to get the lye, but in Jackson-Jellystone, we’d bought in our lye, and the soap was much better for it. I turned on the water, just a trickle, enough to wet my hands and wet the soap. It foamed easily and I rubbed it over my face, near ecstasy in that most simple of actions. I wasn’t used to being dirty, even after Patrick had died and I’d been relegated to the porch. I rinsed the soap away and patted my face dry with a nearby towel.
As I hung the towel back up to dry, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stopped.
I didn’t look too bad for four pups and five months of poverty. My hair needed to be cut—it hung in my eyes and below my chin. But my skin was still clear, and my eyes bright. I ran my hands over my body, testing for any loosening at my waist, or a too sharp point of bone, but found nothing amiss. Perhaps I was in less desperate circumstances than I thought. I still had things to bargain with—my looks, my body, my willingness.
“Abel.” His name in my voice surprised me, rolling off my tongue like honey.
