I have to find her. I have to follow her trail and find her before something terrible happens to her.
The mere thought of her ending up in an auction house, or an underground omega sex ring, fills me with dread and righteousfury, to the point where all I can see is red. I would do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen to her, that she gets home safe and sound.
She’s not my omega. We didn’t match. I didn’t write her an offer, but… damn it. We both would’ve been better off if I did.
Chapter Eight – Jess
The next morning, Asher is up before me, making pancakes. He tosses a glance over his shoulder and asks, “Want some?”
I grab a glass and fill it up with water. “You don’t have to make me breakfast. I can—”
He won’t take no for an answer, clearly, because he quickly says, “I already started. I mean, I had to throw a few out because they were either over or undercooked, but I think I got the hang of it now. Seems a waste to practice my skills and not share the wealth.”
I slip onto one of the stools on the other side of the island and say, “Sure. I’ll take some pancakes, then.” As I sip from the glass, I think about last night. I messed up my sleep schedule, so I was awake most of the night. By the time I finally went to bed, Mason was still brooding on the couch.
It’s crazy to me how he and Asher are related. I know shared blood doesn’t mean you’re automatically the same, but you’d think there would be slightly more similarities between them, besides the blond hair.
“I talked to your brother last night.” I only said this after I made sure said brother wasn’t around. He isn’t; I don’t know where he is right now. If I have to guess, he’s off skulking somewhere by himself.
My statement makes Asher whirl around with his eyebrows raised. “You what? Why? Don’t tell me he tried something with you—”
“No,” I say. “No, that’s not… that’s not what happened. I came out for something to drink and I found him on the couch. He was pretty ticked off. He’s mean, but it’s kind of funny.” I suppose it’s not so funny to people who take things like thatseriously or personally, but I’m not that kind of omega. I can go toe-to-toe with the best of them.
“I’m glad you find his attitude funny.” Asher frowns somewhat, and the expression doesn’t sit well on his handsome face.
Whoa. Handsome? Need to slap myself when I’m alone. I cannot call Asher handsome. Or his brother, for that matter. Calling either of them handsome would only lead me to trouble, and trouble is already something I have enough of right now.
“Has he always been like that?” I ask, mostly trying to distract myself from how nice the alpha’s face is.
Not just his face, really. His whole body. He’s the epitome of what an alpha should look like. He definitely grew up well, let’s just say. I’m honestly shocked he’s not in a pack with an omega already. Mason, on the other hand, I can definitely see why he’s alone.
“Yes and no,” Asher says after a while. He flips the pancake he’s currently making. “He’s always been standoffish, ever since he presented, but… I don’t know. Lately he’s gotten worse. Our parents have been on him lately, not only to find a career he likes but also to find a pack. They think he’s…” He quiets.
But I’m too curious to let it go. “They think he’s what?”
“Close to going feral.” The words are the last thing an omega wants to hear, especially an omega so close to her heat, but what he says next alleviates some of that concern: “But I’m not so sure. I think it’s something else, I just don’t know what.”
“Have you tried talking to him about it?”
“Of course I have, but he’s not really one for heart-to-heart discussions about his feelings.” His shoulders slump somewhat, and I take it to mean he’s really worried about the well-being of his older brother. “He’s been closed-off for years. He doesn’t tell anyone anything, even our parents, not anymore. He acts like he’s alone.”
Feeling alone is something I can understand, because I have been alone this whole time. For the last ten years, at least. My whole world changed, I changed, and when I came back a different person, everyone acted like I was a stranger. Kids are cruel, even if they eventually grow up into decent alphas, like Asher.
But I don’t bring that up. For some stupid reason, it still hurts, like the wound is raw—which is almost funny. I thought there was no way for that particular wound to still feel so fresh, but being around Asher brought me back to a time I’d rather forget.
I don’t say anything to him after that, and thankfully he drops the subject. Just as well. Shortly after I’m handed a plate with two pancakes on it, and he asks, “Butter or syrup?”
“Nah,” I say, grabbing the fork and digging in, much to the horror of the alpha watching me, apparently. Seriously, Asher stares at me like I just popped out a third eye in the middle of my forehead. “What?” I ask him with my mouth full.
“Nothing. I just… I’ve never seen someone eat pancakes without syrup or butter before. Aren’t they dry?”
“No?”
“Wow. You are,” he pauses, “so weird for that. Like, I don’t know if I can let you stay here anymore.”
When he deadpans that, I have to laugh. “Is it that bad for you? Would it make you feel better if I drenched my plate in syrup after slathering the pancakes in butter?”
“I mean, not going to lie, yeah. At least butter.”
