Gabriel pulls his brother up with one hand and pushes him out of his path with the other, so he ends up standing in front of her, devouring her really. But as much as he studies her, she returns his stare.
The woman is petite. Minute and doll-like. Her eyes barely sit above his chest. And there is no denying her omega genetics; it’s in her scent, size, and undeniable presence. I’ve spent the last four hours locked in her car with her, and I’m still thrown by the fact that someone so diminutive can still have such an overwhelming presence.
Without question, she fills the night more than any alpha I’ve met.
I rock back on my heel to refocus. Everything has happened so fast that my head’s still spinning.
While she stands frozen on the spot, Gabriel doesn’t. He is the only one out of us to move.
“Gabriel, what are you doing?” she asks. Her voice now is surprisingly gentle and eloquent, it suits her. When she was talking with me before, it was lost under the traffic noise and the beat of my racing pulse.
“Trying to figure out if you’re real,” he says, flicking his eyebrow up in challenge, and then he comes to a stop right in front of her and leans down, almost over the top of her dog. “And since your dog hasn’t started chewing on my nuts yet, I’m going to see if your scent is as intense as Val insists. Noah and Lincoln too, in case you’re wondering.”
She laughs at him and does a flick of her finger, getting Ares to move, offering a slight shrug to Gabriel as she smiles sweetly at him. There’s no denying she’s got a veiled confidence that I suspect would bloom around people she really knows. And trusts. Another wave of calm washes over her, changing her slightly stressed scent, leaving in its wake the pungent, hauntingly beautiful scent of jasmine. Cloyingly thick yet also suited to her.
Maybe she saw us as people who would try to talk her out of being who she is, but that is not me, or any of us. The four of us have worked hard with the Alpha Alliance, fighting for omegas to live safely in the real world again, which despite currently being on the run to my house on Scarfe Island, is still the drive behind our actions—to ensure she is safe and secure enough to be herself. Looking at the others, if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say we all became devout in that mission too.
“I need to get Ares some food, and also apparently some things for me,” she offers before walking away from Gabriel, who is standing frozen with his mouth gaping like a fish. I understand his reaction to her, I’ve been lost in her scent for hours. She walks over to her Jeep with Ares at her side and is back, giving us all a sly grin. “Anyone want anything?”
“I’m going with you,” Gabriel says.
She shrugs before looking at us again. “Anything?”
“A lot of alcohol,” Noah says.
She laughs, waving his suggestion off. “Yeah, that’s a given. Nothing else? Okay, I’ll be fifteen minutes, tops.”
And then she’s off like a rocket, with Ares and Gabriel racing to keep up with her.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Noah run his hands over his face, while Valak watches the entrance where they disappeared.
“What did she do when you were driving here?” he asks, his attention locked on the door and the people walking in and out.
“Worked and slept. She was fine, no phone calls. Just on her computer. She was listening to something, and her scent got a bit sour at a few points, so clearly she wasn’t happy,” I answer, turning to look at him. “Gabriel mentioned previously you both felt she’s different than others we’ve had through the Alliance, how so?”
“You’re not affected by her?” Valak splutters, shocked by the looks.
“I didn’t say that. She’s unique in every way. How do you think she is different, Noah?”
“That’s the million-dollar question. From our limited interaction—adding in the fact she has a protection dog and carries an array of guns—I’d suggest she has a bad past. How bad is something that we may or may not find out. She clearly has a high pain threshold. Besides the local anaesthetic to her forehead, she refused any other medication.”
“And I am not imagining she’s an omega, am I?” Valak says quietly.
“Not at all. But at the same time, whether it’s because of her age, or her past, she is different. I suspect that’s what’s throwing you. Because while she looks like one, she is the most confident and self-assured out of all the others I’ve spoken with,” Noah adds.
“A lot of them are pretty fucking screwed up and traumatised,” Valak bites back frustratedly.
“That’s true. But we also know that we’re seeing an increasing pattern in how they have been living,” I remind them both.
“What do you mean?” Noah asks.
“We’ve had single mothers, television presenters and elderly women coming forward after living right under our noses. We’ve got omegas that will never emerge from the lives they’ve been living because of fear, but also because they’re doing okay. And then we have her. Perhaps I am being disrespectful to the others we have worked with, but none of them have that deep acceptance of who they are. They are living ashiddenomegas, but I think she is an out and loud omega just hidingfromsociety. It’s her confidence that throws me too. She’s actually quite engaging, and intellectual, and in a sense very robust.”
“You would too if you had a protection dog.” Valak’s tone is still full of his frustration, which I completely understand.
“You’re missing the point,” I offer quietly to him, considerate of his surging emotions and the lack of time we have to sort through things in more detail.
Noah asks the obvious question before Valak can. “What is your point then?”
