To my complete, frustrated astonishment, with a quick move, she flicks the spider into the woods.
Foiling yet another assassination attempt.
Is this even possible?
I study her as she checks them over, explaining the danger of the spider. I don’t even care about its life cycle; what I care about is that the alpha who should now be writhing in pain, dying very painfully, is gifted yet another chance at life.
How is this even happening?
“She’s magic,” I say in pure admiration.
“Don’t be obtuse, Rory. She’s an omega, nothing more, nothing less. She’s just hyper vigilant and observant as fuck.” Vale cracks his knuckles and glowers.
“She knows,” I whisper.
“She can’t know. No one ever knows,” Vale protests.
I turn to look at Vale, just to make sure he believes his own words. He doesn’t, and he’s as frustrated by this turn of events as we are, but the doubt is there in his eyes.
He tracks our omega’s movements with a frown.
“She cannot know it’s us. It's not possible,” Cyn says, but he’s uncertain.
“She doesn’t. It's just coincidence,” Vale murmurs, but he still doesn’t sound convinced.
We walk for another four hours before she calls it, and we set up camp. I’m cooking tonight, but I can’t risk poisoning them without poisoning the others, too, so I resist my murderous temptation while it gets harder and harder to resist Bonnie and her spikey temper.
The presence of the alphas is grating, the betas are a mild annoyance, but it’s all getting worse. Every small smile she gives them, the way her shoulders stay tight, and the caution in her eyes.
My omega is being threatened, and I want to annihilate everything to take it away from her.
“Don’t burn the food, Rory.”
I glare at her back but swear quickly when I stir the food, and it catches down the bottom.
She comes over and looks in the pot. “It’s okay. It’s not ruined. Just a bit of flavouring.” I stare at the side of her face, willing her to look at me, but she doesn’t. My temper spikes, but I control it, hiding it as she moves about the camp.
The wild mushrooms and pine nuts she collected have made a risotto that smells strangely good. But I’m not hungry for food.
“Are you okay, you know, since everything happened today?” That’s it, a perfectly regular conversation. Do not tell her you want to tie her, spread eagle, to the forest floor and eat her out until she can’t scream anymore.
“What? Them finding out I’m an omega? Oh, it’s nothing.”
She says it’s nothing, but there’s a thread of vulnerability in her voice. Something that could be anger and a glint of determination in her eyes.
Who is this omega, and where was she when we met her the first time? If this omega had been there, I’m not sure that everything would have gone down the same way. I know it wouldn’t have.
“It’s not nothing. He outed you and made you unsafe. It was wrong,” I purr, feeling the need to go and correct those wrongs with the sharp side of my knife.
She shrugs, but I can tell she’s uncomfortable. “Does it really matter? Perhaps they had a right to know.”
“They did not need to know. Your being an omega changes exactly nothing about your skills and expertise.”
She gasps, and when I look up, her eyes are wide, and she looks wounded. “Do you really believe that?”
Death. Death to everyone who made her feel like this. And I’m going to kick my own ass for an eternity. Or until she no longer gets that god-awful hurt look in her eyes when someone compliments her.
Damn it! What the fuck did we do?
