Thorne, at least, drops his bag in the mudroom where the bag belongs.
Noa lets out a little sigh as her hand finds mine. She squeezes as she looks up at me. Her peach scent souring a tinge.
I warned her this was coming. I didn’t know whether that would increase her anxiety or decrease it. I just wanted to help her.
I do better when I’m prepared. I hope she’s had time to think about Silas’s request, along with the reality of her situation. This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with something like this. The mafia doesn’t have good people, and omegas often get stuck with bond marks and Packs that aren’t good for them.
I hate to think about Noa in that situation. It makes my blood boil, and I have to hold back the growl building in my throat.
“Yeah, I know.” Her eyes are closed as she takes another deep breath, and when they open, they land hot on me. They snap to me like a puzzle piece slotting into place, and I can feel the heat on my cheeks as she stares at me.
I push my scent. Chocolate mixes with peaches andNoa purrs a bit as she leans into me, damn near in my lap, and I have half the nerve to set her against me.
“Who’s doing this to you?” Thorne’s voice is sharp. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, probably trying to rein himself in.
I know who it is. I don’t know his name or who he’s with, but I know it was that guy from the store earlier. He had that metallic scent blocker smell clinging to his skin, which means he hadn’t showered since he trashed Noa’s house.
I’ll find him, though. That’s one thing I’m not worried about. Whether Noa would tell me anything, I’ve seen his face, and I’ve worked with a lot less before.
“I, I didn’t have the, um, I’m not.” She says, and as her words come out, she grips my hand tighter. Her breaths are short and hasty, and I can’t resist pulling her into my lap and purring.
I purred. I’ve never done it before, and the guys try to hide their shock and fail. They’ve purred for each other, for me, but I couldn’t do it back, despite wanting to. No matter how hard I tried, and yet here I am, with Noa in my arms, trying my damndest to soothe her. It came so naturally to me I’m just as shocked as they are.
Maybe more dire situations bring out my purr. Maybe I’m not normal.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” I murmur into her ear, and she sighs into me. The warmth from her choosing meblooms in my chest, and I can’t resist kissing the top of her head.
“I’m not a good omega.” She sobs. I pat her hair as Silas rushes off the couch and kneels before her.
“Noa, no, how could you even—we haven’t known each other for long, but you are the sweetest, kindest, most genuine person we’ve ever met, and that makes you better than good, baby, it makes you the best.”
“Anyone who says otherwise is fucking stupid,” Thorne snips as he pats her head.
“You don’t understand. I don’t cook well or clean. I run a business, I work, and I love it. That doesn’t make a good omega. They told me.”
“Noa, it’s not the 1950s—” Thorne growls, but Silas punches his stomach, which makes him lean forward. Thorne could work on his tone sometimes.
“Those things make you the best omega for us, Noa, don’t you see?” Silas says, waving his hands around, really holding her attention. “We don’t need an omega to do those things. Thorne likes to cook.”
Her gaze moves to Thorne, who nods in agreement.
“And Havoc loves to clean,” I cough at the partial truth because I don’t love to clean, but I’d rather clean than have either of them do it. And I certainly don’t want Noa doing it, thinking that’ll make her a “good” omega.
“Havoc?”
“I do,” I say, and she raises her eyebrows at me. “And I do a good job,” I add for effect. When I was young, I didn’t care for cleanliness, but in prison, they make you keep shit clean, and now I can’t break the habit. Not that I want to, but it drives me crazy.
She chuckles and looks down at her hands. Picking at the sidewall of her polished nails.
“I bet you do.” Her compliment lands right in my chest, and I try not to get, well, too proud at having received praise from my omega.
“See, Noa, we need an omega who is authentically themselves, someone with passion and drive whose smile makes us blush and who cares and loves us as much as we love them.” Silas carries on. Taking her hand in his to stop her nervous picking.
“Do you love— could you love us, all of us, Noa? —”
“Of course I do.” She’s quick with her answer, and then her eyes go wide as she meets each of our eyes. I purr more aggressively against her. She loves us. I should- I should tell her we love her.
“Well then, that makes you the perfect omega, sweetheart, because we love you too,” I say, patting her head and running my hand down her hair, trying to calm her down. I can’t lie, it soothes me too.
