Page 10 of Abel's Omega
I wanted to kill them.
No, stupid idea. That would for sure lose me my pups.
There was only one more course to serve, and then I could start my clean-up. I always did my best thinking while my hands were busy, so I started arranging tiny cheesecakes on one of my—no, Roland’s. I had to remember that. Roland’s best plates. Once they were all in place, and I’d carefully cleaned away the crumbs that had fallen from the crusts, I picked it up, forced my face into pleasant lines, and headed into the living room.
The alcohol had taken its toll, or its effect. I didn’t particularly care. Flushed faces abounded, except for the new shifter, who I regarded with suspicion from behind my perfect omega’s smile. The laughter was loud, and it grated on my ears. I offered the tiny cakes around, then picked up the empty platter from the mushrooms and put them in its place. Some of the glasses were empty, so I filled them, wishing bitterly that they’d get so drunk they’d do or say something that would ruin the whole deal.
Salvadoro put a casual hand on my hip, drunk enough that he’d forgotten his mate seated on the other side of the room. I stepped to the side and ignored him, but I caught a glimpse of his mate, and knew I would be in for a long, hard winter.
Assuming I didn’t mate the doctor.
Grimly, I finished filling glasses and picked up some dirtied cloth napkins, switching them out for clean ones from the side board. I piled everything on the platter and eased myself out of notice.
Finally, I could escape back to my kitchen, check on the pups, and start the end of my long day. The strain and effort had taken their toll, and my body felt forty pounds heavier as I left the conspirators behind me.
My pups were content in the porch. Fan and Teca had fallen asleep, curled up under a blanket on my layer of foam. I gathered up the empty cookie bag and checked on Noah and Beatrice. Beatrice was asleep as well, but Noah was wide awake, watching me with more intelligence than any five-month-old had any right to have.
“How’s my little boy?” I cooed and picked him up. If I had to, I could finish cleaning with him in the sling, though it was harder to reach the sink. Then again, I’d had plenty of practice reaching around a baby. I propped him on my shoulder and grabbed the sling before I went back to the kitchen.
Sebastian stood in the open arch between the kitchen and the living room, watching me quizzically. I froze, holding my baby protectively to my chest. Noah squirmed and twisted his head. I suppose he felt the sudden tension in my body. Desperately, I rubbed his back with my thumb, in case he decided to cry.
“The food was good,” Sebastian said. He took a step, and reached out to touch Noah. “He seems healthy.”
I nodded automatically. “He is. They all are,” I said through lips gone suddenly numb. What did he want?
“You seem healthy as well.” His hand moved from Noah’s head to my jaw, his thumb playing over my chin, then moving up to stroke along my lips, prodding until I couldn’t do anything but open them and let him in.
We stood there, me frozen in a myriad of emotions, him calmly evaluating me as if I was an animal he wanted to purchase. Gauging my worth, my training, my obedience. And here I was, with the perfect opportunity to prove I was unsuitable, and all I could do was stand there and let him manhandle me.
He took a step closer, trapping me between the frame of the door and his body. I trembled, knowing what was coming, powerless in the moment to stop it. Then his lips met mine and he kissed me, the way an alpha kisses, conquering what was his. I stood quiet, compliant, and—if I were to be honest—scared. If he wanted me, he could take me right now, and sign the papers to mate me as soon as he decided that my bedroom skills suited him. I worried about Noah, knowing this man didn’t want him. Would he be careless of him, take him roughly from my arms and drop him as something of no value?
His kiss deepened. It was cruel, but to me it was very obvious that he was testing to see where I would break. My lower lip pressed against one of my canines, a sharp point of pain barely noticed in my emotional turmoil.
Then he stepped back and nodded. “I think you and I will do very well together. It’ll be spring before I can move. In the meantime, Roland will want to know what furnishings will be needed. Make a list. I want everything ready when I come back.” He spun on his heel and sauntered back to the living room. A moment later, I heard the congratulatory hum of voices from the living room.
I snuggled Noah close. The kitchen was still a mess, but I was tempted to just leave it and go to bed to cry myself to sleep. That would make more trouble for me than it was worth, though, so I rolled up my sleeves and tucked Noah into his sling.
Besides, there was lots to keep my hands busy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The morning of the second day after Sebastian’s visit, I put my travel permits down in front of Roland for his signature.
“What’s this?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he read down my stated itinerary.
“My cousin Jason just had a pup in Mercy Hills. I’d like to go visit him, before things get really busy here. He hasn’t seen my pups,” I paused here, and put as much quiet despair in my voice as possible. “It might be his only chance.”
“I didn’t know you two were related,” he said, and gave me a considering once over.
“On my mother’s side. He disappeared when he was thirteen, and I just found out he’s back.” I was using him ruthlessly, but I hoped that any omega desperate enough to run from his pack for six years wouldn’t mind being used this way.
Roland glanced down at my permit. “Mercy Hills, eh?”
I nodded. “He might be able to help with the pups.”
They’d broken the news to me the day after the visit. I’d played my part, begged and sobbed and acted like I hadn’t already decided that the only way I’d touch that shifter was with a ten foot pole with a cattle prod on the end of it. They’d been firm and sent me to my porch to collect myself.
Later, I’d tracked Roland down to plead some more, and when he’d refused to budge, I’d reluctantly laid a list of families who would make good foster parents in front of him, as if I’d been entirely defeated.
