Page 18 of The Omega’s Nest

“You’ve got three months here at Fort Sanguis and then you’ll be gone again,” he says, as if I need the reminder of my own fucking job. He meets my eyes. I’m paralysed, terrified he’s about to turn the next statement into a command, but he doesn’t. “You’re not ready to bond yet. You know that. And you also know you can do much better than him.”

Rage, all-consuming, descends. A red haze over my vision. There is no better than Addie. And my father’s casual remarks about Addie over the years have always sent me into a bout of impotent fury.

“He’s a nice boy, but he’s not one of us. Alcoholic alpha, an omega who took off … unheard of! He’s a beach bum with no prospects. No, my boy will make a better bond than that.”

I never even bothered to argue with him about the fated nature of our scents—what would be the point? He’d eschewed his own fated mate to bond with my mother because his omega was some young guy he knew in high school and determined as beneath him. I didn’t know much about the omega, but had heard the words, “A fucking geek. Too skinny to breed and white trash to boot,” thrown around when my dad was drunk with his workmates. His voice had been jovial, slurred, but there was a nastiness under it that as I got older, I suspected had very little to do with the omega and more to do with his own regret.

“Nothing to say?” he asks when I just stand there, breathing audibly through my nose.

“I’m going to bed,” I reiterate. I turn to flee, but he stops me.

“Leonard.” A hint of command creeps into his voice, but not enough that I can’t shake it off yet. I don’t turn back when he continues. “Have a shower before your mother gets up, for Christ’s sake.”

I jerk my chin and then bolt out of the room.

My hands are shaking when I get to my bedroom, and I shut the door and lock it. I tuck my chin into my shoulder and inhale deeply—long, deep pulls of Addie’s scent to ground me, to calm me.

I’ll hide in here until I hear him leave—he always golfs on Sundays—then I’ll have a quick meal with my mother before I head back to the brothel. Addie promised no one would be coming while the place was closed, and while I’m not completely reassured by this, I have to trust he’s going to be okay for the day.

It dawns on me, as I strip out of my clothes and hide them under my bed so my mother won’t wash them, that the alphas who run that place will still be at the brothel during the day. Will one of them try something with Addie? Benji—I spit the name in my head—does he touch Addie when the brothel is closed?

I fall back on my ass and grip my scalp. Breathe, just breathe. Addie said, “I won’t, I promise.” So he won’t let anyone else touch him. It’s okay, everything’s okay.

I’ve got a new plan. If I buy every night with Addie, he’ll eventually go into heat, then I’ll claim him, challenge the alpha he’s contracted to if he tries to stop me from leaving with my bondmate, and then I’ll take Addie south, start a new life.

Somewhere on the beach. Addie will like that.

It means I’ll have to court him after I bond him, which is just fucking wrong, on so many levels, but I can’t think of any way around it. I can’t think.

Breathe, one step and then the next. And the next step is sleep. I need to be strong for this. Here’s the plan: rest, eat, go back to Addie. And maybe tonight he’ll let me taste his slick.

My cock hardens so fast I have to clench my hand around it over my crusted pants.

New plan: jerk off thinking about Addie, rest, eat, go back to Addie.

Chapter 7

Adrian

I’m sitting cross-legged in my nest, pretending I’m not straining to catch a whiff of Leo’s scent. He said he’s coming back, but he might not. Maybe with some distance, he’s realised this is a bad idea. I’m a bad idea. My rational mind agrees—Leo deserves so much better than paying a prostitute every night.

God, I shudder at the thought of him paying me. It makes everything feel dirty, contractual. I know I can’t spend that money. I’ll send it back to him. It’s a ridiculous amount, but not too much yet. If he doesn’t come back tonight, he won’t have broken the bank with last night.

I twist my hands together and look at them, trying and failing to quell the heartbreak at the thought of him not coming back even though I know it’s for the best. There’s no future here. Omegas age out of brothels and end up in factories or other menial jobs, contracted to yet another alpha. The stories of how omegas branded with the swallow are used are enough to give you nightmares if you think about it too much.

At least while we’re at the brothel there’s the illusion of control—we can choose not to see certain alphas—and our “workday” isn’t too long or tedious. Sure, I’d rather not feel like a part of me was being stolen every single time one of them took me, but I guess the payoff is a relatively safe place to sleep, regular meals, a decent work schedule, and friends.

But the thought of Leo in this place still makes me feel disgusting. My longing aside, it’s better if he doesn’t come. My eyes well with tears—God, years of not crying and now I’m a fucking faucet. I blink rapidly to stop them.

The smell of salt on the wind rushes into the room, making butterflies flutter in my stomach.

“Addie?” Leo calls, voice unsure yet loud over the noise from downstairs.

I clear my throat. “In here.”

But he’s already moving closer—no doubt scenting me—and I look up and meet his wide, relieved smile.

I can’t help grinning in return, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Hi,” I say.