Page 67 of One Flew Over the Omega's Nest: Part One
“Nobody has reported them broken yet, and unless they have a reason to go back and look at footage, they won’t even know they aren’t working.” Kole smirks before heading off to grab our food.
I haven’t been to the craft room yet, but I think it’ll be perfect, considering there’s no working cameras and I have a special project I want to work on. Hayden guides me there, and it takes everythingin me to not pin him to the nearest wall and mount him like a damn horse.
Shit, this bond is crazy.
I can feel Hayden’s emotions like they’re my own, and his answering lust surges as his fingers squeeze mine. “Fuck, I want you,” he mutters, shaking his head.
I can’t help my grin as I trail behind him. “Maybe if you’re a good boy you can knot me later,” I purr, running a hand down his spine.
“Oh, I’ll be good,” he groans, his head falling back. “I’ll be so fucking good, Fireball, you’re gonna give me a damn gold star.”
“‘Fraid I’m fresh outta gold stars, Darlin’.” I lick my lips, “but I can see if this craft room has anythin’ gold I can put on my lips for when I—” I run straight into Hayden’s back as he comes to a halt in a doorway, and I peek around him to see Sam and West—their backs to us.
I brace for the same growl he gave that alpha in the cafeteria to make an appearance, but instead, his shoulders relax. “Hey guys. What are my favorite orderly and therapist doing in the asylum craft room at seven on a Wednesday?”
thirty-one
Jo
Sam and West startle at the sound of Hayden’s voice, jumping to face us with a guilty look before they quickly school their features. “What are you guys doing here?” Sam asks, a scowl on his face as he looks to where my hand is in Hayden’s. “Shouldn’t you be eating dinner?”
“I had a hankerin’ to make some macaroni art,” I deadpan, sliding past Hayden and taking a look around the room. It has different stations for different kinds of art, everything from paints to modeling clay. “Damn, this is better than what we had at my high school.”
Hayden comes next to me. “Yeah, Meadow likes to make sure we have a ‘creative outlet’ for our murderoustendencies.”
I chuckle, and shoot Sam a glare when I hear his derisive snort. “Did you come here to make art too, fellas?”
Sam fixes his own glare on me. “You can’t be in here. You’re certainly not doing arts and fucking crafts right now.”
Hayden’s brows shoot up like he’s never heard Sammy-boy talk like that to a patient before. Which, he probably hasn’t.
I just have a way of bringing out the best in people.
“Is there some kind of rule that says we can’t make art while we eat dinner?” I challenge, my hands on my hips.
He whips his head around, like he’s searching for a sign somewhere that says, “No Food in the Craft Room” or even, “Fuck off, Jo Harding”, but fortunately comes up blank.
“I suppose not,” he grits out. I don’t know what his problem is, but I know I’m not the one who pissed in his porridge so he needs to stop looking at me like that.
Sticking my tongue out at him like a mature adult, I start looking through little drawers until I find some thread. Perfect.
“Lisichka, I grabbed a double helping for you, you’ll need it after—” Kole stops in the doorway, his brows furrowed as he takes in Sam and West, standing awkwardly to the side. “What the fuck are you two doing here?” His Russian accent makes him sound even more threatening than his deep timbre, and if he wasn’t my Sugar Bear, I might be shaking in my boots—err, institution-issued white sneakers.
My hand flies up to cover my snort.
“Need it after what?” Sam asks sharply, looking between the three of us.
I smirk. “After the absolute spit-roastin’ these two gave me earlier. I burned a lot of calories, you know.”
Hayden chokes on a laugh, and Kole shakes his head. “Lisichka…”
Nobody spit-roasted me, but it’s too satisfying seeing the looks on their faces. I can tell West’s cheeks are flushed despite his dark complexion, and Sam looks like he’s about to combust.
“What?” I ask innocently. “Is it against the rules to get spit-roasted by my boyfriends before dinner?”
Sam’s jaw looks like it’s about to break with how hard he’s clenching. “Fraternization is frowned upon—”
“But not against the rules as long as the behavior is not pack related. And it’s not.” I shrug. “I’m just a slut for my boys’ cocks. Bein’ an omega has nothin’ to do with it.”
