Page 4 of The Omega’s Nest

His forefinger presses under my chin, and the contact zips through me. He tips my face up. He’s so close, if either of us step forward, we’ll be chest to chest. His is heaving. His eyes, boring into mine, are a horrible mix of confusion and anger, of hurt.

“I looked for you,” he says, eyes flicking back and forth on mine. “My father said your uncle took you out of state. I called. I texted you every day and you … you never replied. I looked for you every time I was on leave. And when I got back this time, my dad said—” His eyes flash with fury and his voice falters. “He said you’d bonded.”

And what a fucking stupid thing to believe.

“What uncle? What fucking bond?” I reply. I can’t hide the bitterness, the incredulity in my tone. Leo knew—if anyone fucking knew, Leo knew—it was only me and my alpha father. That if anything happened to my alpha, I was fucked. Not that anyone expected him to drop dead from a heart attack at the kitchen table, but what we should have expected was for the old drunk to not have made a single provision for me in his will. He didn’t even have a will!

I was an omega without an alpha, which made me a state problem. And we all knew where those omegas ended up. If I couldn’t find a bondmate in time—and because of the alpha in front of me, I never even tried—I was always going to end up here.

I wrote and erased so many texts to Leo before the alphas from the Department of Dynamics arrived at my house. I told him what happened. Asked him to come home. Begged him to come and claim me. But I couldn’t get the way he’d looked at me when I’d invited him to court me out of my head. I never hit send. And then they took my phone.

Still, if Leo really had been looking, he didn’t need to look far.

He’s frowning now, the gears turning, his finger still holding my face up to his. “There was no uncle,” he says more to himself than to me. Anger flashes in his eyes.

He drops his hand and I feel cold all over. He’s disgusted, of course he is.

“Pack your things,” he orders.

“What?” I ask stupidly. I only just stop myself from swaying forward for his touch.

“Pack your shit, we’re leaving.” He looks around, eyes landing on the bedside table. Fury explodes in his scent as he scowls at my tools of the trade. I’m drenched in more shame, but a part of me, a very small part, is getting angry too. He doesn’t get to judge me. I had to survive. I’ve had to make the best of it.

Also, he’s forgetting a very important point.

“I can’t just leave,” I begin, finally regaining my composure. “I’m Benji’s omega.”

And now Leo turns that vicious glare on me. “Who the fuck is Benji?”

I shrink back. I’ve never been scared of Leo. Mortified, yes—like when I tried to show him I wanted him to court me and he looked at me like a leper—but never scared. He’s never looked at me like this, though.

“He’s one of the alphas here,” I mumble. “We’re not all contracted to the owner. I got assigned to Benji.”

Leo grips my shoulders, slides his right hand up my throat, skirting over my mating gland. I can’t help gasping as he tilts my head to the side.

“You’re not mated,” he says on a rough exhale.

I glance up at him. He meets my eyes and tightens his hand on my neck. All I can do is try to breathe. His hands are so warm, so sure. He’s surrounding me, enveloping me in his scent of relief, trapping me in his haunted gaze.

He’s my best friend, of course he wants to get me out of here. But he doesn’t want me like that, and he’s going to get us both arrested if I leave with him. And he’s not my best friend anymore—he was, but now I’m here, I’m this. He’s looking at me like I’m that guy who lived to surf, shaped by open water and open skies and a gaze that traced the horizon from sunrise to sunset, tracking the swell. I’m not that guy anymore. I’m trapped within the confines of these walls. I’m someone who keeps their back to the sea.

“You have to go,” I say, my voice a husk.

His hands tighten to the point of pain.

“I’m not leaving here without you.”

He might be twenty-one now, has done almost four years in the military, but there’s a juvenile quality to the way he says it—it’s the demand of a boy who hasn’t yet realised the implications of going up against men. He’s a young alpha, potent and terrifyingly strong, but not in control of himself yet. That won’t come for a few years. Benji will crush him.

His blunt nails dig into my skin.

“You’re hurting me,” I whisper.

“Sorry,” he says hastily and loosens his hands, but he doesn’t let go. His forefinger runs over my mating gland. I shiver.

“If you’re not going to … use me, you have to go,” I say quietly, my heart hammering.

“Use you?” he says with disgust. “Use you!?”