Page 8 of Omega's Flight
He shook me and threw me down onto the floor again, gathered up his dirty clothes then stormed out of the living room toward the kitchen. I heard him slamming cupboard doors out there, the stomp of feet, then silence. I stayed where I was—if I stayed still and made no noise maybe he'd leave and I'd have time to get the place in order again before he came home.
He'd never before been like this, almost crazed, though some of our disagreements had been intense. I didn't know what to make of this sudden difference and I realized then that I really didn't know him at all.
The scrape of feet on the floor of the kitchen made my throat go tight, then the back door slammed but I didn't dare get up. Wasn't sure I could, honestly. I swallowed hard through my aching throat. Actually, I hurt everywhere, or at least it felt like it. Please go away.
Our clock ticked through ten minutes, just long enough that I began to have some hope, then the door in the kitchen slammed again. Degan stormed back into the living room. "I'm going to have to borrow clean clothes to go outside walls with. How is that going to look?"
"I'm sorry. I can go wash them now." I started to get to my feet, only now remembering my needle in my palm and pulling it absentmindedly from my flesh.
That wasn't enough for him. He shoved me again, and I bounced off the arm of the rocking chair on my way back down to the floor. It hit me under the ribcage and knocked the wind out of me, and all my world narrowed down to that point of impact and the pain and fear that seemed to explode out of it.
"Stupid omega. There's no time!" he yelled as he threw me against the wall again. I didn't even remember hitting the floor, but when I next opened my eyes, I was lying beside the rocking chair, my cheek pressed against the cracked old flooring, and I could see underneath the bottom of the couch. There's Henry's rubber bone. The thought wandered muzzily around in my brain for a moment before it occurred to me that—now that I knew where it had gotten to—I should go fish it out. It would make Henry's day to have it back again.
I pushed myself up onto hands and knees, or tried to—a deep aching pain spread out from that point where the arm of the rocking chair had struck me. The pain rose up to a peak, then faded, and when I had come back to myself again I was still flat on the floor. Maybe I'll just lie here for a bit. It's not like the bone is going anywhere. Probably safer not to disturb him. But only for a few minutes—I needed to be up to get to the laundry as soon as it opened and judging by the light coming in the window, I didn't have much time.
Cautiously, I rolled my eyes up to see where my mate was, but I couldn't see him anywhere, and then I heard the front door slam. The most welcome sound I'd ever heard.
I said a short prayer to Lysoonka that this time he wouldn't come back.
C H A P T E R 8
I counted to one hundred before I was certain he wasn't just pacing back and forth out in front of the house and working himself up to come back in and—do what? I didn't want to think what his next actions might be. My heart wouldn't stop racing and I crawled into the corner behind my rocking chair, only slightly comforted by the solidity of the two walls behind me.
Once there, I stayed still as stone, still as earth, hiding in my corner until I was certain that death wasn't waiting on the other side of the front door. My breathing was ragged with the effort not to make any noise, not to draw any attention to myself. He'd never stayed this angry for this long before. Surely it would wear itself out soon? I couldn't help expecting him to come back through the door and apologize, to remind me not to provoke him again and promise that he'd try to remember that I couldn't help myself, being omega. Like he always did.
Except that I didn't believe him anymore. I didn't think there was any way for me to be the perfect mate for him—we were a bad match. I was starting to see why Bax had taken his pups and run.
Run.
I wiped away a trickle of blood that was tickling my upper lip and thought about sitting up, but I was exhausted and aching in every bone, and there was an ominous deep-seated pain around my womb that I refused to think about, refused to even consider the importance of. I'd hit the arm of the chair higher than that, enough to have knocked the wind out of me a little bit. I was imagining things in my distress, was all.
"Papa?" It was Pip. Oh, Lysoonka, I didn't want her to see me like this. She was supposed to be asleep, getting over the last of her cold. "Papa?" she said again, and then her little hands were stroking my brow, for all the world like she was the parent and I was her child.
"It's all right, baby girl. Da and I had a disagreement but it's all over now." I forced myself to sit up and smile at her. The pain in my belly bloomed for a moment, then subsided. I hoped it was just a bruise. "Are you feeling sick? Do you want a drink?"
"No," she told me, watching me with eyes that were much older than the rest of her. "What did you fight about?"
"Silly things, darling," I told her and started the long, arduous process of getting to my feet. "I still have a chocolate left, do you want to split it with me?" It was the special thing I did with her, just like the fancy braids were what I did with Anna, and the sandwiches with the faces were what I did with Henry. I couldn't give them things, but I could give them me, and they seemed happy with that.
"Okay," she said and waited patiently while I climbed to my feet and went in search of my stash.
We sat on the back porch in the growing light, where the faint breeze that made it inside the walls could tickle our toes beneath the blanket I wrapped us in, and let the treat melt on our tongues. We spoke of little things, and I wondered if she was trying to console me, the way I had consoled her when the baby bird she'd rescued had died in the night. But underneath our gentle conversation, in me at least, a white-hot anger began to grow. How dare he?
"Hello?" I heard from inside the house. My brother Yuri. Why was he here? We never had much in common, him being a beta of good quality, me being...me. My chest squeezed tight with fear—there was no way I could hide my injuries this time. I hadn't even cleaned myself up, too focused on Pip for the blood still slowly leaking from my nose to even register. He'd see me and he'd know that I'd screwed up again.
I jumped to my feet and turned to face the door just as the patter of Ann's little feet met my ears, followed by Yuri's heavier steps. He pushed open the battered aluminum frame and froze, his eyes locked on my face. "What happened?" he said, his voice gone as quiet as his body. I could smell the threat in the air and Ann came to hide behind my legs.
Pip walked over to stand in between us and stare up at him. "It was Da," she said matter-of-factly. "I don't like him."
"Raleigh?" he asked, his head turning as he looked between the two of us.
"It's nothing," I said. "We were roughhousing." Stupid excuse—who roughhoused with an omega? And Yuri had never been stupid.
"Don't lie to me," he said, and gently pushed Pip to the side so he could turn my face up into the light of the sun creeping up over the walls. He frowned as he looked me over, then nodded and let go of my chin. "Not as bad as it looks."
"I'm not worried about that," I said, and I truly wasn't, because as we'd talked, my stomach had begun churning again and the ache in my womb had grown stronger, tightening up like labor, only this was a six-week pup—there should be no labor now.
And in that moment, with whatever chances this struggling baby had once had shrinking with each ache, I hated Degan. I'd have torn his eyes out if I could have reached him. The baby had been struggling already; it didn't need this stress. Briefly, I closed my own eyes and let my hand rest over the tiny, dying being in my belly. I'm sorry baby. I'll do better next time.
