Page 53 of Omega's Forbidden Heat
“Can you walk to the ambulance?” the smallest paramedic asks Amy.
“I’ll carry her,” Jack says, reaching down to scoop her up, and although they exchange another look, they daren’t argue with an Alpha.
Finn trots towards him as he strides towards the ambulance with Amy in his arms.
“How is she?” Finn asks.
“I’m ok,” Amy murmurs with a weak smile.
“Let’s see when they check you out at the hospital.” Jack halts at the back of the ambulance and waits for the paramedics to open the rear doors. Bright white light flicks on, illuminating the stark interior of the vehicle and the smaller paramedic motions at him to halt before she lowers the step. He climbs up and lays Amy down on the narrow bed.
“No, guests allowed,” the other paramedic, an older stout woman with a buzz cut tells him.
He doesn’t bother to argue. He can follow behind in the car and he’s keen for Amy to get to the hospital. Amy glances up at him with worried eyes, a crease between her brow.
Swallowing away something he can’t decipher, he squeezes her shoulder. “I’ll see you at the hospital, okay?”
She bites her lip and nods, and then the paramedic is pushing her down on the bed and buckling a strap over her midriff.
Finn’s hovering at the rear of the vehicle when Jack jumps down onto the soft earth and the smaller paramedic follows him, shutting the ambulance doors; their surroundings suddenly dark.
“We’re taking her down to Chichester hospital,” she tells them. “Are either of you her next of kin?”
“I am,” Finn says, stepping forward. “I’m Finn, her brother.”
“And you are?’ the paramedic glances up at him, curiosity dancing in her eyes.
He hesitates. Who is he to Amy? A voice in the recesses of his mind wants him say ‘her Alpha’. But he’s not. And even if he were, could he say it with Finn stood here next to him? With this small Beta female sizing him up?
“I’m his friend,” he mumbles.
The woman raises an eyebrow as if she doesn’t quite buy his answer, but she doesn’t hang about to question it, strolling to the driver’s seat and climbing up into the cab.
He stands beside Finn and both watch as the ambulance rolls into the lane and races away, its headlights swinging giant beams into the tress and illuminating the branches so that they glimmer white.
The red tail lights weave away and gradually shrink until finally they disappear into the darkness and it’s just him and Finn and the sounds of their breathing and the breeze frisking the wet leaves.
They need to go. They need to follow the ambulance. They need to be there for Amy. But something prevents Jack from moving. Unspoken words, a heavy presence hanging above their heads that he can almost feel pressing down on his skull. It is the air thick with emotions neither knows how to express. He wishes Finn were an Alpha or an Omega. He wishes he could read his scent like he reads Amy’s. But his friend smells like he always does, that same aroma of grass that never deviates.
Finally, Finn speaks. “Thank you,” he says.
No words come in reply. How can he say all the things he feels? They are lodged in his throat and in his heart. He grunts in response and kicks at the ground, his hands buried in his pockets.
“Let’s go,” Finn adds.
“I’d better go find that horse of hers first,” he says, the idea suddenly occurring to him that the creature is still out there, loose in the countryside. He knows how much she loves that horse and he can’t leave him. “Take him back to the stable.”
Finn nods and squeezes his shoulder. “I’ll see you at the hospital.” He pauses. “Make sure you come. She’ll be gutted if you don’t.”
He hears Finn’s engine start and the car draws away as he makes his way up the path and back into the woods. The walk is quicker this time, now the rain has died, and he knows which way to go; his eyes completely accustomed to the dark. The horse remains where they left him, as if he knew somehow to stay put and someone would come back for him.
“Good boy,” Jack says as he paces cautiously towards him. The horse seems less spooked this time though, allowing him to capture his reins in his hand and rub at his neck. The horse blows through his nose. “She’s fine. She’s going to be fine. Let’s get you home.”
He leads the horse through the brush until they find the path and follow its meander up and down the Down and across the fields to the stables. It’s achingly slow work. He wants nothing more than to race to the hospital, but the horse is tired and, no matter how hard he tugs on the rein, his pace remains steady and never alters. Finally, the glow of the stables comes into view and they walk up the track and into the yard. A door opens as they approach and Sara stands with one hand on her hip watching them, her eyes narrowing when she clocks it’s him.
“It’s 9pm. I’m shutting up.”
“Right,” he says, stopping in front of her. “Where does this one belong?
