Page 140 of Carmichael's Omega

35 - Somewhere in the Carnage

Cassidy

Fluff floats down to the smoothly polished dark wood floor. I wait until it's almost all settled, then, growling, I shake the pillow more, sending it all back into the air.

The alpha watches me; arms crossed over his chest, face etched in a perma-scowl.

I refuse to shift back to feet. Carmichael's father has ensconced me in his private bedroom. The sterile, empty space feels all wrong to me, and I'm terrified of what he might do to me if I were on feet.

He told me if I wanted to make a den, then I could. I destroyed all his perfectly-pressed, bleached bed sheets instead. Now I'm working on the pillows.

"You are a stubborn little omega," he mutters, glaring at me.

I growl and shake the pillow again before whining and circling in the corner of the bedroom I chose to shelter in. I want Mattie. I want Alize.

I want my mate right now.

There's a knock on the door. The alpha strides to it and opens it but blocks the opening with his body, not letting whoever is there see into the room. I perk my ears forward, straining to listen, praying to the goddess it's Nico or maybe Rique or another packmate.

"Here, alpha. Vegetable soup with just a little fish for her," the soft, hesitant female that I can't see says.

The alpha thanks her and shuts the door in her face. Turning, he brings the bowl closer to me. Dipping his fingers in, he checks the temperature, then licks his fingers as if testing the taste.

"It's perfect, little omega. Here, eat up," he crouches down and places the bowl on the floor a few feet away from me.

I turn my nose up, despite my grumbling tummy. I refuse to eat when they're probably starving Alize and Mattie.

"The pup," he says calmly.

Flashing fangs at him, I give in,again, and belly-crawl to the bowl. Eyes never leaving him, I start to lick at the soup. It's good, a perfect blend of broth and vegetables. The fish is nutritious, especially for a pregnant female, without being overpowering. It's just right for an omega.

"Bueno, little omega," the alpha says with satisfaction. He stands back up, and I rush backward, but he just walks away from me. "Finish it, little one."

I creep forward again and finish the bowl while he rummages around in drawers and closets.

He walks back over and picks up the empty bowl as I retreat to my fluff-pile.

"I am going to go see about your brother, omega. Don't try anything foolish, ey?" He reaches out to brush his fingertips over my head, ignoring my snarl. "We don't want anything to happen to the little male, do we?"

I go and curl up in my corner, whining and whimpering until he leaves.

When the lock clicks shut, I creep forward to listen to his footsteps. It's quiet as a tomb, so I shift back to feet, my limbs twitching and trembling with adrenaline. Darting through the alpha's suite, I look for anything of use. A weapon, a lock pick, something. Spilling open drawers in the bathroom, the closet, I find nothing useful. It's all empty or close to it. The feeling of wrongness grows and grows.

Finally, I give in to the urge to cry. Sitting in the middle of the closet of spilled clothing, I start to sob. I don't stop until my body has run out of water.

I stand on shaky legs and walk to the bathroom. Splashing water on my face, I avoid looking into the mirror. When my face feels less tight and puffy, I cup my hands under the stream of water and sip it down to replenish what I've lost.

I feel exposed in the bathroom. I walk back into the bedroom cautiously, and for the first time, I look around. The Alpha's suite is large but oddly enclosed and bland for the style of the house. Two walls have large windows, but they are covered with heavy, light-blocking curtains in a deep brown color. One of the walls is a sitting room with a desk and some bookshelves. The other is the bedroom. The other two walls don't have windows. Just the closet on one side and the bathroom and hallway on the other.

Everything in this room is brown or white. It's a masculine space, I guess. There doesn't seem to be any sort of personal touches at all. I would think that Carm's father doesn't stay here often, but those clothes I scattered everywhere in the closet are his.

I start to return to my nest in the corner of the bedroom, then change my mind. I'm trapped in here, like it or not, and for some reason, the closet seems safest. Probably because it most resembles a den.

I drag all of the Alpha's clothes out of it, even going as far as to empty his drawers. He doesn't have much. Even Teague has more clothes. Monkey-suits, he calls them with disgust, but he has a whole section of the closet dedicated to them. Carm's father has only two suits, and he doesn't have any expensive watches or cufflinks. Blu has more cufflinks than he could ever use. Teague keeps buying them for him whenever he buys Mina jewelry. Which, as it happens, is often.

I dump everything on the floor in front of the door to the bedroom. Let the Alpha walk all over his stuff. I bring my nest into my new den and shift back to paws, curling up against the very back of the closet, next to the safe I can't open.

I thump my tail over my snout. I rest, but my ears are pricked forward, listening, waiting.

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