Page 56 of Vendetta

Her shoulders rolled in on herself as she took it from my outstretched hand, looking timid. She wasn’t what I’d expected. Honestly, I didn’t know what I was expecting. A fire-breathing dragon, maybe. But not this. She was scared, not that I blamed her after what she’d been through. My alphas knew better than to treat an omega this way.

Fuck them for making her feel like this.

She glanced around the room again, and I realized she was probably searching for danger, or the next thing that might hurt or betray her. After last night, I could understand the concern. Omegas were incredibly sensitive and needed to feel safe. She didn’t, and no one could blame her.

“Um, is that appropriate? Aren’t I supposed to be your prisoner?” She straightened her spine, quick to cover the vulnerable moment.

“First off, do I look like I give a fuck if it’s appropriate? And second, I don’t really care that you’re supposed to be a prisoner, obviously.” I tried to gentle the edge of my words with a smile, and walked to my bed, clicking on the huge TV on the opposite wall. The computer monitors flanking it were intentionally off. No need for her to witness my casual stalking of her, and my other less than legal hobbies.

With the brush still in hand, she walked past me to the door, trying the handle. It was locked. All the doors in the house were programmed with electronic locks. She wasn’t getting out that easily.

“I thought you didn’t care if I was a prisoner,” she said, turning back to where I’d sat on the bed.

“I don’t, but I’m not just going to let you walk out. So, movie? Or you can go back to the cell if you’d rather.” I smothered the hope in my voice, trying to disguise the eagerness I felt.

She eyed my nest filled with pillows and blankets, surrounded by walls on three sides, hesitating before she voiced her decision.

“Yeah, okay.”

Chapter 37

Rosalina

Amovie with my captor, instead of escaping, wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had. I just didn’t want to go back to the cell or deal with the rotting finger yet. Being here with this wonderful smelling man had no bearing on my decision at all. Nope, not one bit. And honestly, at this point, what was one more poor decision?

In fact, almost everything I’d done up to this point was arguably very wrong. But God, he smelled so right. His scent seeped into my blood, right down to my bones. I just wanted to roll around in it, and he was offering the chance to do just that.

Who was I to turn down that sort of invitation?

He was inviting me into his nest. That was a big fucking deal for an omega. This was his safe space.

Admittedly, mine was awful, but I was an unusual case.

Looking around his room made me realize something, I’d never really had a nest. I had a tiny hole with sterile sheets, it was nothing like this. This was an oasis of comfort. Every part of it was tailored, specific, and with intention. Right down to the jersey sheets, fuzzy blankets, and upholstered walls of the nook his bed was nestled in.

He crawled over the mattress, rummaging through blankets and pillows, making a space near the edge that he patted in invitation. The way he sprawled out across the navy sheets showed off a strip of tanned skin just above his waistband, and the slight indentation of the V of his hips peeked through. My eyes lingered, appreciating the long, lithe lines of his muscles. He was built like a dancer, without an ounce of body fat to be seen. As much as I wanted to lick that flat plain of muscle, I blinked the thought away and moved to the edge of the bed, sitting gingerly, half on and half off the mattress.

He scooted further back, deeper into the mounds of blankets piled up against the far wall. “You’re not going to sit like that the whole movie, are you?”

I fidgeted with the brush in my hands before sliding a little further onto the mattress. “There. Better?” It wasn’t better, but I had no intention of getting closer to him than absolutely necessary.

“Hardly,” he muttered under his breath before covering it quickly. “What do you want to watch?”

I caught his muffled lapse but decided to ignore it. “It doesn’t matter to me. Whatever you want is fine. I am the prisoner, after all.”

My emotions were in turmoil. I was too distracted to pay attention to anything on the massive screen, anyway. The brush lay forgotten in my hand, and for lack of anything better to do, I started to comb out my damp hair while my mind struggled with itself. Lush scents lingering in the air distracted me even more now that I was closer to him. It was so familiar, it felt like a home I’d never had, but flirted with a memory of something I’d recently encountered.

While my attention wandered, trying to place it, the brush snagged on a tangle. “Damn it. Fucking hair.” Even something as simple as brushing my hair was too much for me to handle, as overwhelmed as I was.

Ollie stopped scrolling, flipped on a streaming service, and turned the volume down. “Gimme that.” He plucked the brush from my fidgeting hands. “Let me help you.”

I held perfectly still as he moved closer to where I perched. No one in my recollection had ever brushed my hair before. Not even my mother. She showed me how and then just expected that I’d do it on my own, even as a small child. Her assumption led to many wild hair days and some near disasters, but I’d managed.

With more skill than I’d expected, he gathered my damp hair and started to brush out the ends.

“I used to do this for my mom,” he said, as if trying to explain his proficiency.

Slowly, the tension in my shoulders eased as he worked his way through my tangles, rescuing me from an errant hairpin and a strand of long grass when I winced. In the mirror on the opposite wall, I could see the furrow forming between his brows, but he didn’t comment on its cause as he continued to work. Something deep in my chest that I refused to name urged me to soothe that look off his face.