“Very good manners,” I said. “You may kneel. Or sit, if you tire. I won’t have you straining your healing body.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” He moved without hesitation, settling between my legs, just beneath the desk. Not because he was told. Because he wanted to.
And that made all the difference.
Once he was settled, head resting against a thigh, it was as though every worry he carried in his mindvanished. He took a deep breath, muttered, “Thank you, Sir,” before stilling.
My hand found purchase in his hair, not pulling or pushing. Just resting, reminding him that he wasn’t alone, and reminding me that Charlie had wanted this. Had wanted to kneel for me.
“Better?”
Charlie nodded once, a small, barely there hum setting in his chest with the movement.
I made a mental note that there would be a time limit. I didn’t want to cause more harm to his body than there’d already been done to it.
For now, I turned back to my work, content with an Omega kneeling at my feet.
***
Unsure if I liked the idea or not, I watched Charlie put the pan into the oven. I wanted him to rest; I wanted him to regain his strength. Knowing what I do so far, I would bet anything that Charlie would push himself even more than normal, just to prove that he could serve me.
And he could.
By doing what he has so far, simple small tasks, was more than enough. Even though I saw in his posture, the way he kept his posture stiff and eyes alert, he still wanted more to do.
But how much was too much? Did he even know his limits? Even if he did, would he tell me when it was too much to handle?
For the last question, I highly doubted he’d tell me. He didn’t see himself as an equal. He viewed himself as a trained Omega, and it would take time to get him to see anything different.
I had time, and I would prove to him that it was perfectly acceptable to be whoever he was underneath all the training.
“How long will that need to be in the oven for?” I asked as Charlie began to clean up the kitchen.
Not entirely sure what he made, as he had tossed a bunch of different ingredients together that were in the fridge into some form of cheesy burrito goodness. He had muttered something about hating food going to waste and I didn’t dare argue about it with him.
“Twenty minutes, Sir. The cheese on top needs to melt.”
“Perfect. Enough time to show you that photo of my brother.” He’d mention, again, that the younger Omega had come into Lockswell during early morning chores.
Charlie dipped his chin then set the washcloth he was using on the counter, neatly folded.
In the living room, I pulled down a framed photo that was farther back than all the other décor. When I turned, Charlie stood there, head tilted like he was surprised the picture was there at all.
“Most of the personal things stay out of sight,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I don’t want my clients to see something out in the open like this.”
I handed Charlie the photo. The edges were worn, the image grainy with time. But Micha’s pale hair anddark eyes still held. The freckles that used to scatter across his cheeks were probably gone by now, faded with age.
Still, I hoped he hadn’t changed too much. Not in the ways that mattered.
“Micha. He had freckles along the bridge of his nose the last time I saw him.”
“And dark eyes, almost blue but more on the brown side, depending on how the light hit them.”
“So you do know him?” Hope began to bloom in my gut.
“I knowofhim, Sir.” Charlie’s eyes flashed to mine before they went back to the picture. “He’s really quiet, but most of us are. Alphas don’t like Omegas who talk about themselves.” He handed the picture back. “Like I said before, I really only passed him a few times. We aren’t allowed friends there, and the older Omegas aren’t permitted to talk to the younger ones unless it's to correct a behavior.”
“Adrian befriended you.” I pointed that out, placing the picture of my brother back on the shelf, this time keeping it closer to the front.
