“Lia,” she says softly.
I can hear the pain in her voice, and I hate it. Why is she still in pain after an orgasm? An Omega in preheat should be just fine after an orgasm.
Something’s not right.
“Walker,” I say as I step out of the darkness of the alleyway and into the light of the sun. “Now, which direction were you?—?”
“Hey! There you two are!”
I turn at the sound of Knox’s voice, and I see him weaving through the crowd. He holds up a purse that just so happens to match the outfit of the Omega I have in my arms, and I tilt her so that she can see it.
“Is that your purse?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says, her voice choked off as she reaches her hand for it.
Knox jogs up to us, a cheeky grin on his face. “I saw her collapse from the pie-eating stage. Everything all… right?”
I watch his nostrils flare before his eyes slowly turn toward the Omega in my arms. I watch him carefully, seeing recognition spread across his features. He looks at her as if she just hung the moon in the sky, her hand outstretched and her fingers still wiggling for her purse.
“Knox,” I say curtly. “She needs her purse.”
“Oh, right, right,” he says mindlessly as he hands it to her.
“You can put me down now,” Lia says.
I don’t like the idea, but I listen to her, anyway. She wobbles on her feet for a moment, and Knox reaches out his hand, steadying her on one side while I steady her on the other. She digs through her purse, clearly on the hunt for something. But then she whines and doubles over again.
“That’s it,” I grumble as I scoop her back up.
“What’s wrong with her?” Knox asks, a sharpness in his voice. “Why is she in pain? What did you do to my?—?”
I give him a hard look. I pin him with a glare, and it takes him a moment to draw in another deep breath. Is this really happening? Is he scenting her, too?
“She needs Dr. Quinn,” Knox says. “Her scent is…”
“A bit too strong,” I grumble.
Knox shoots me a look. “A bit too sugary sweet for an Omega not in heat.”
“Preheat, I’m fine. Just need to get home,” Lia says.
Her voice is still weak. I don’t like that. “After Dr. Quinn looks you over.”
“I don’t want to go to the doctor,” she whines softly.
“I know,” I say as Knox motions toward his truck. I give him another nod, and he takes off toward it. “But we’ll feel better once you’re checked out and cleared by a doctor.”
“Then home?”
Knox leaps into his truck and practically hops the curb to get to us. “Then home. You have my word. We’ll even escort you ourselves.”
Anything to stay in her presence a little while longer.
Eli
Ihate it when my little girl is sick.
“I know, Mom, I hear you. I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” I say as I shift my nine-year-old daughter in my arms. Her whimper makes me hurt, and I worry that my fears are right this time.
