Page 32 of Pack Owned
I apply gentle but firm pressure with the tweezers. This time, the bullet yields, slipping out of the wound with a satisfying pop. Relief floods me as I hold up the bloody slug.
“Got it.”
“See? You did it. You’re a natural.” Dane’s smile has my heart swelling with pride as he leans in to press a kiss to my forehead.
I freeze like a deer in headlights, my cheeks burning.
My whole body tingles from the motion, and I clear my throat, pushing back quickly.
“Next time, I get to have Kayla play doctor with me,” Liam says, tapping on his cellphone, which I assume is ordering Chinese for us. “I expect the full bedside manner treatment, Kayla. The whole gentle touches and encouraging words routine.”
I can’t help but let out a snort of laughter. The tension eases out of me a fraction.
“At least Omegas are taught how to sew.” I divert my thoughts from Dane’s kiss by rummaging through the med kit for a needle and thread. Back at the Institute, Jess stabbed her fingers more than the material, so much so that I’d do mine and her projects.
I thread the needle and tie a firm knot at the end. As I lean in to begin stitching, our eyes meet. A shiver runs down my spine, apprehension and... something else. I tell myself it’s just from the adrenaline crash of being shot at, then removing a bullet for the first time ever.
As I finish stitching Dane’s wound, a question hangs heavy in my mind—what have I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER 10
LIAM
The sterile scent of antiseptic claws at my throat, a harsh counterpoint to the metallic tang of blood that still hangs heavy in the air. It’s acrid, but underneath it all, a whisper of Kayla’s vanilla and jasmine lingers. And with it, the desire to claim her as my Omega.
Kayla’s hands are steady as she ties off the last stitch on Dane’s shoulder, but her eyes—those deep blue pools—are darting around like cornered prey. She’s spooked, and it’s written all over her in a script I know too well.
Our Intel says three Omegas went missing. And I’m willing to bet she knows at least one of them.
“‘K, Nurse Kayla,” I say, hoping to crack that tension before it shatters her, “You’ve officially survived your trial by fire. Or should I say, trial by bullet?”
Dane grunts, his medic instincts kicking in despite his pain, giving her an appreciative nod.
She manages a weak smile, but there’s tension in the corners of her eyes.
“Where do I put this stuff?” She holds up Dane’s bloody shirt and the used medic supplies.
“Trash is in the cabinet there.” I nod to the area. “And I’ll show you the laundry room.”
Kayla throws away the items, then washes her hands.
“You saved Dane’s sorry ass tonight.”
“Hey, I resent that,” Dane shoots back with a pained grin, easing himself off the chair. “Just for that, I’m not offering you a beer.” He pulls one from the fridge and pops the cap off.
“Fuck you, asshole, I’ll get my own damn beer.”
There’s a soft smile on Kayla’s lips that has my heart thumping wildly against my rib cage.
We may be strangers, but I can’t shake the primal urge to protect her.
“Follow me to the laundry room.” I bow slightly, and Dane chuckles.
There’s a pink tint to Kayla’s cheeks. When we leave the kitchen, I look over my shoulder at Dane, winking, and he shoots me the finger.
“Right this way, gorgeous,” I say, leading her through the sprawling mansion. The tension in Kayla’s shoulders is a visible thing, like a cloak she can’t shake off. I want to tell her it’s okay, that she’s safe here, but words feel too damn cheap for what she’s been through.
As jumpy as she’s been since she woke up after the bus accident and despite her snark, I know there’s more to her past than just Omega Institute and etiquette lessons.
