I glanced at Ben and Cam—their confusion mirroring my own. Omegas were known to be particularly drawn to gifts. Some said that made them shallow, but it was an instinctual urge, just like alphas had the urge to provide for their omegas. When we had given Josie gifts, she’d responded with the excitement of someone who wasn’t used to being given anything. I thought it was fucking adorable and a bloody crime that she’d been given so few presents in her life.
I expected her to unwrap the package immediately, but she was now backing away from it.
“Don’t you want to open it?” Ben asked, tucking Josie’s hair behind her ear.
I could scent him on her skin, and jealousy surged through me. While I’d been locked up in my office, Ben had been with our omega. He had left the bond wide open so Cam and I could feelevery fucking thingthey were doing. Of course, the only person I had to blame was myself.
If I stayed away from her, I could avoid seeing the disappointment I was sure I’d find in her eyes because I didn’t protect her.
Josie shrugged, trying to give off an air of nonchalance. “Maybe I’ll look at it later.” She turned towards Ben. “Dinner?”
Ben quickly wiped the confused expression from his face, taking her hand with a smile and tugging her into the kitchen. He glanced back at Cam and me, but we just shrugged, completely confused why our omega would resist a gift.
ChapterThirteen
Josie
Donovan’s gift was calling to me. I could practically hear it.
Josie, Josie, you must open me.
I rolled over in bed with a huff. Stupid gift-loving omega. My omega had gotten a taste of being spoiled by our alphas and thought she needed all the gifts.
Frustration surged through me and I fisted my hands, my fingernails piercing my palms. I needed to squash my instincts.Being an omega brings only suffering.I chanted the mantra over and over.
Theo rolled over in his sleep so he was facing me, his arm brushing against mine. He let out a contented sigh, his face as relaxed as I’d ever seen it. I instinctively unclenched my fists. Ben was pressed against me, the bare skin of his chest hot against my back. I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk with Theo or Cam after the chaos of the gift’s arrival, but I knew I needed to. I hated this distance between us, hated that Glen had caused it.
A few tears leaked down my face, dripping onto my soft pillowcase. Being an omega had brought me tremendous suffering, but it had also brought me the most intense joy. Was it worth it? Could I accept this part of myself I’d always despised?
My mind flashed to the mysterious package. It was just sitting in the foyer. All alone. Waiting for me to open it.
My omega perked up as if she sensed my wavering resolve.
If you have to be an omega, you can at least enjoy gifts.I had to admit, the voice in my head was quite convincing.
Fuck it. I had to open it.
I’d never been successful in sneaking out of bed without my alphas noticing, but there was a first time for everything. I knew I should wake them and let them know what I was doing so they didn’t freak out if they woke up and found me missing. But I felt the need to do this alone… this felt like an experience that was just mine.
I slipped out of Ben’s embrace and climbed over Theo, cursing myself for my clumsiness as my foot caught on the blanket. I landed on the floor with a soft thump and held still, wondering if I had woken them. I poked my head up over the side of the bed to find the three of them still fast asleep.
See, the universe wants you to open the package. It’s a sign.
I padded softly out of the room, leaving the door cracked behind me.
Once in the hallway, I broke out in a sprint. Now that I’d made up my mind, I couldn’t wait another minute.
I slid into the foyer, almost launching myself at the package. I ripped the brown paper, which came off in large, satisfying pieces.
After a breathless frenzy, the gift was revealed.
The foyer lamp only cast a soft glow, but I didn’t need more light to know what I was looking at.
It was the painting Donovan showed me at the cocktail party. The one he painted when he was young and coming to terms with his designation. The colors were just as evocative as I remembered. My breath caught at the bright red tendrils of paint at the bottom of the canvas. They seemed to seep aggressively up the canvas like blood from a wound until they were met with sweeping blues and greens. The colors clashed and fought for a moment until the cool colors almost seemed to soothe and surround the red tendril—separate but somehow interwoven in a dance of texture and paint so visceral I yearned to touch it. Up close, the colors stood out in a tense dance of opposition, but if I stood back, they became one. A new beautiful thing.
A lump formed in my throat and all the emotions I’d suppressed broke over me. I felt like I was splitting apart with the pain, but mixed in with the suffering was the reminder that I wasn’t alone.
A watery, shaky laugh burst from me as I wiped up my tears.
