Page 9 of Saving His Omega
Blake frowned and crouched by the side of the chair. “Of course, you can. I broached the issue with the alpha and he reassured me on that point. I knew you wouldn’t want to give it up.” He dipped his head. “Are you all right?” His voice was low now, reaching only Tripp’s ears.
He understood exactly what his brother was asking. “I’m fine. Graham was very kind to me.” He licked his lips, not sure if it was okay to speak with Blake about what happened with his mate. Certainly, he’d tried hard to hide what it had been like before, up until it was impossible to continue to do so. “He made me feel…good. Is that supposed to happen?”
Blakes eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed pink before he banked his expression. “Yes. I think. That’s how it is among sigmas when they mount between themselves, anyway. I know dominants don’t usually care how we servients feel. Some of the sigmas find pleasure in being mounted by them anyway. I just wanted him to not hurt you, but I’m glad it’s better than that.”
Tripp nodded. “It is. My wolf is still hiding, though. Graham’s wolf hasn’t been pressuring him much. I’m afraid that he’ll get angry if it goes on much longer.”
“You need to assure your wolf that this time is different.”
Tripp lowered his gaze. “I’m trying.”
Blake was quiet for a moment. “You know, maybe you should ask your mate for help. He’s responsible for you now and your wolf’s hiding isn’t good for any of you.”
Tripp had tried to speak to his wolf, to get a feel for how he was doing. There was the barest of responses, as if his wolf were somewhere deep inside that they couldn’t communicate much even between themselves. “Maybe I should.”
“Should what?”
Tripp and Blake both jumped at Graham’s sudden appearance. They had been so focused on their conversation and keeping it private, they’d blocked out everything else. They’d gotten so used to being closed off from others, first in their old pack, then while among the humans, being furtive had become second nature.
Blake shot to his feet. “Um...” He clearly didn’t know what was okay to tell the beta.
Because it was Tripp’s problem, he jumped in to save his brother from the awkwardness. “I can’t get my wolf to stop hiding from you. He doesn’t mean any disrespect,” he added.
Graham put his hand on one of Tripp’s raised feet. The simple touch was light, yet warm and comforting. “He’s had a rough time of it. We’ll go visit the healer after lunch and see what she recommends.”
Tripp gnawed at his lower lip. “Or your wolf could just force him, I guess.”
Graham squeezed his foot. “He could, but that wouldn’t be a nice way to handle it. We want him to understand that his life is different now.”
Relief washed over him. Blake had been right; this was a problem best handled by his mate. “Yes, Graham.”
“Great.” He pushed the lever to sit Tripp upright, then held out his hand. “Time to go eat.” He glanced at Blake. “You’re joining us?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Call me Graham.” He hefted Tripp out of his chair as if he weighed nothing and liberated the crocheting materials from his grip. “Oh, nice. A blanket for the pup?” Tripp nodded. “My mom must love you. She’s always looking for new crafting skills.” He placed everything carefully on the chair.
Tripp leaned into his mate as the man pulled him in close for their walk to the longhouse. “She’s been very kind. I could also do some weaving now,” he dared to venture.
“Nope,” Graham said, cheerfully knocking down the suggestion. “You’ve been traveling a lot and need as much rest as you can get before whelping.”
The answer was disappointing but at least it didn’t come in the form of a slap. He’d been testing his new mate, he realized. A dangerous thing to do, yet it helped ease his mind. Not knowing if Graham was going to prove to be like Victor after all loomed over him. As much as he didn’t want punishment, being in a constant state of nervousness, waiting for something bad to happen, wasn’t helping his wolf or himself.
They sat at one of the long communal tables, a different one than the night before. Apparently, pack members could choose freely where to eat, and with whom. Graham signaled Blake to sit on the other side of Tripp, which soothed his nerves. Having his brother within touching distance while being among so many strange shifters made the transition into this new pack easier. His mate was obviously aware of that. It was a good sign that Graham was thinking of him and wanted to make his life as comfortable as possible even outside their mating bed.
When his mate put skimpy portions of food on his plate from the dishes lined up on the table, Tripp knew a moment of disappointment, however. Despite having done nothing strenuous during the morning, he was ravenous. He knew better than to complain. His mate got to say what he ate, how much and how often. Perhaps he’d find a moment and the courage to ask him if he could have more. In the meantime, he quickly ate what he had. Blake gave him a nudge with his leg, then passed a piece of buttered bread from his own plate. It never made it to Tripp.
Reaching over, Graham grabbed Blake by the wrist. “Don’t do that.” Releasing his grip, Graham focused on Tripp. “No one in this pack goes hungry. If you want more, ask me. I gave you a small amount of food because I didn’t want you to think you had to clean your plate if you weren’t hungry.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure how much omegas this close to whelping feel like eating. Do you want more?”
Tripp nodded. “Please.”
Graham proceeded to butter another piece of bread and put it on Tripp’s plate, as well as another slice of meat and some vegetables.
The beta picked up his own fork. “Same goes for you, too, Blake. Eat your fill. And,” he added with a pointed look over Tripp’s head, “it’s not your job to take care of your brother. Not anymore. It’s mine. Trust me to do so.” Although his words were firm, his tone was not unkind.
The rest of the meal went smoothly, Graham topping up Tripp’s plate whenever he asked. There was a lot of conversation around the table, everyone seeming to be enjoying the company. No fights broke out and that alone was different from his old pack, where sometimes a couple of dominants would get up to trade blows, forcing the servients to flee to safety. And all the while, the alpha would laugh and egg the combatants on. What did he care? There were always feral dominants, like Victor, eager to join the pack and curry favor with the alpha. Deaths were brushed aside as if nothing, their families handed over to the winner as a prize. And cleaning up the resulting damage was the sigmas’ problem, beneath the notice of the dominants.
Everyone in the Green Mountain Pack appeared happy and relaxed. It was almost too good to be true. Flashing a glance at Blake, he could tell his brother was thinking along the same lines. He grinned back at Tripp and squeezed his knee once in the way he’d always done to show that he was watching and aware of Tripp’s feelings.
