Page 47 of His Stolen Omega

“Most would.”

“Maybe I’m just burned out.” He shrugged. “That whole going half feral thing took a lot out of me.” He finished bagging the veggies, set them in the refrigerator and then turned back. “That was one hundred percent your fault, by the way.”

Levi stared at him for a lengthy moment, clearly debating with himself over something. But whatever it was, he seemed to decide against it. “Hurry up. Stalling won’t save you.”

No, Elm knew that already.

The only thing that could get him out of this nightmare was himself.

If only he could regain control so he could do that.

Chapter 11:

True to his word, the Leviathan followed him around like a puppy.

Or a hungry wolf.

One or the other.

Elm would have found it hilarious if not for the way Levi tensed each time they entered a new room and were presented with another mess. The Dominus of the White Frost was clearly a neat freak.

And Elm had caused a lot of destruction.

In some areas there were broken items, like a busted vase or glass, as though someone had stumbled into them or dropped them. Knowing that he was the cause made him melancholy, and his mood grew bleak as he worked. Since the crew had been in the process of cleaning, he didn’t have to go searching for supplies, carrying some of them with him throughout the house.

He worked in relative silence, only speaking to acknowledge when Levi said he’d missed a spot, which didn’t happen too often. When they’d been younger, Elm had always been the one getting into rowdy trouble, and picking up after himself and dealing with the consequences had been his parents’ way of teaching him.

Elm missed them.

What would they think when they discovered their son was no longer a beta? His omega mother had always been so relieved by his presentation, happy that his proclivity wouldn’t force him into any unwanted sexual situations. It was another reason he’d kept his true feelings on the matter to himself. Why he’d never told anyone, not even Sky, how he felt like a third-class citizen, unable to connect with his peers’ experiences or relate to the things they were going through.

Kind of funny now, considering. Here he was, finally something other than beta, and yet he was arguably more miserable than he’d ever been.

At least when he’d been nothing special, he hadn’t hurt people.

It took him over an hour to make it to the bedroom, but once he did, he couldn’t help but pause just within the doorway, eyes landing on the bed.

The nest was a pile of clothing in no particular order. Pants and shirts were twisted and heaped on top of one another, some spilling over the sides of the mattress. It was a huge mattress too, king sized for sure, so to have successfully covered the entire surface area…

His head tipped in the direction of the walk-in closet, but he didn’t dare look directly. This was arguably the most embarrassing part of all of this, and he felt the tips of his ears heat and his cheeks stain red as he got to work sorting through the items of clothing, opting to make piles out of them first and then bring them to the other room to put away.

Nesting was another ancient practice no longer considered common. It happened now and again, usually when an omega or alpha went into heat or rut and already had a bonded partner. In the old days, it would have been created out of any soft materials that could be found, and then scented by their mate to smell like them. With the creation of beds, the need for such things had dwindled.

There was a long leather couch positioned across from the end of the bed, and that’s where the alpha settled. He flipped through digital pages on his holopad, barely sparing Elm a glance as he cleaned. At some point, Elm returned from the closet to find him wearing a pair of glasses, the new look almost causing him to stumble.

Dressed in crisp black pants, and a white shirt with the top four buttons undone, on the couch with one leg resting over the other, Levi looked every part the CEO. There was a cold edge to him still, a set to his shoulders that never seemed to ease, but while he oozed class and arrogance, he didn’t give off “terrifying mafia king” vibes.

Kian was usually dressed in all black, and only wore suits when there was a business meeting. He preferred black jeans to dress pants, and acted like he could attack at any given moment from seemingly very little provocation.

Even so, Elm had only feared him once, briefly, when they’d been kids and their parents had caught Kian playing with dead animals. He hadn’t killed them, but it’d still been a lot for a young Elm to process, and he’d been awkward around his brother for a week or so after.

Until Kian had bought him cotton candy. Then it was like the whole thing hadn’t happened and his eight-year-old mind forgot all about it.

That’s how easy Elm was.

How simple he’d always been.

He didn’t hold grudges, didn’t hang on to anger. It was rare for him to sit with any sort of negative emotion for very long, even when he felt self-pity. He’d wallow over being unexceptional, wish he’d been born something other than beta, and then promptly go bowling with friends like the thoughts had never weighted on him.