But for real.Josie? How hard is it to stop at the first two letters? J-O. Jo.
Fuck, I might prefer Josephine toJosie.
Frowning, I peek over the frame of the window. I can’t see much, but I do spy the beta orderly’s head with a big ol’ welt on it, sprawled on the floor next to a spilled bowl of oatmeal.
Well, damn, he really did have breakfast. I probably won’t be getting another one.
A burst of laughter from down the hall has me scrambling to my bed. I sit down, my back against the concrete wall as I make a show of looking at my nails. “What the fuck happened to you, Jones?” the same voice asks through his hysterics.
A groan sounds from right outside my door.
“Don’t tell me the omega got the drop on you?” The laughter continues, and I find my hackles raising. It’s notthatridiculous of a notion.
“Fuck off, Steve,” the beta—Jones, apparently—grumbles, groaning again. “Dammit, I think I hit my head.”
A new face fills the window, and I look up in faux surprise.
“Two visitors in one day?” I smile, crossing my legs. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I was monitoring the camera. I came as soon as I saw you start to reach through the window, Omega.” He says my designation like it’s my name, and there’s no hiding the derision in his tone now that his laughter is gone. “Fuck, you’re…pungent. Don’t know how you’ve been hiding under the scent blockers for so long.” He shakes his head as if he got off track, then tilts his head towards the beta on the floor. “Jones here has never dealt with an omega in this facility. Even if he had, he wouldn't have been prepared because none of them are ever as…wily as you.”
“Don’t that make me ‘Wile E. Omega’ then?” I ask, raising a brow. I never much cared for the Wile E. Coyote cartoon growing up, but at least coyotes have teeth.
He snorts. “Cute. If anything, you’re the roadrunner, and I’m the coyote.” He shakes his head like he’s annoyed he got off track. “Anyway. Since you wasted your breakfast, get ready to be hungry until thenext meal.” He shoves a wad of fabric through the window. “You can’t come out unless you put this on.”
I frown, getting off the bed and retrieving the material off the floor. “What is this?”
“A straitjacket. Throw a fit all you want, but you’re not getting out of this room without putting that on. You’re a risk to the other patients.”
The other patients that they left on the floor after tranquilizing them.
Yeah.I’mthe risk here.
“You’re awfully chatty, Coyote,” I comment, slipping the straitjacket on. The sleeves hang all the way to the floor, and the back is open.
“Face the wall, arms crossed in front of you,” he orders. “One wrong move and I’ll tranq you again.”
Huffing, I follow his directions, crossing my arms and facing the wall. “I don’t s’pose Brooks’ll be too happy with that,” I say lightly.
“Brooks isn’t the one who has to deal with your sorry ass.” I roll my eyes. “Closer,” he snaps.
“If you keep talkin’ about my ass, Precious, I might think you’re interested in me.” I move forward until my nose touches the concrete. “Better?” I ask sweetly, and he only huffs in response. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle when I hear the door open, his heavy footsteps coming into the room, followed closely by his wet asphalt scent, tinged with bitterness. My omega wants to scramble as far away from the alpha who doesn’t belong to us, but seeing as I’m literally against a wall, there’s not much I can do.
He’s silent as he buckles the back of the straitjacket shut. “I don’t know why he doesn’t just dope you up like the rest of them,” he mutters under his breath.
“Not used to your victims—I mean, patients, talkin’ back, Coyote? Should I say, ‘meep meep’, instead?” He pulls the sleeves tight behind my back.
“You know, you keep calling me that.” He makes one final adjustment before spinning me around. I look up into cold eyes. “But you’re forgetting one thing.”
I tilt my head. “What’s that?”
He smirks. “Coyotes are the predators.”
I keep my smile to myself as I let him push me out the door, to where the beta orderly is cleaning up my oatmeal. He gives me a nasty look, but I only shoot him a wink, making his face turn red in anger.
Steve might be right that in real life, the coyotes are the predators. But what he’s not seeing is that the Road Runner outsmarts Wile E. Coyote every single time.
five
