Page 77 of His Stolen Omega

Levi smirked but didn’t disagree.

Elm sighed, and since he was starving, picked up his fork and started in on the food. When the meat all but melted on his tongue, he couldn’t help but moan, eyes slipping shut. “Holy shit.”

“Better than instant noodles?”

“Yeah—” His earlier comment suddenly made sense. “Did you—”

“I read your file,” Levi confirmed before he could finish.

“There’s a file on me?”

“The underboss compiled it.”

Elm scowled. “Was it fun reading that I survived off of instant noodles in college, like most of my peers? Bet you were super glad to learn that incredibly useful and important information.”

“I was,” Levi said, but that was it, he didn’t explain further.

“Why are we here, alpha?”

“So we can be alone.” He smeared a tender piece of meat from his own plate through sauce and then stood, leaning forward. “Open.”

“No way—” The food was popped into his mouth mid speech, Elm coughing around it. He glared at the alpha, who merely sat back and continued to eat like nothing had happened. When he scooped up some vegetables though, Elm held up a hand. “Don’t you dare.”

“You need to eat to stay healthy.” Levi’s eyes skimmed over him, brow furrowing. “You’ve lost muscle mass since coming into my care. We’ll remedy that. There’s a gym on the second level. I’ll show you after dinner.”

“I don’t want to work out, Levi. My body aches all over, and I—What are you doing now?”

The alpha had sprung up from his seat and gone to one of the cabinets. When he came back, there was a small white pill in his palm. “Take it.”

“What is it?”

“A painkiller.”

“I’m drinking,” Elm reminded.

“It’s safe, I promise.”

Seeing that the older man wouldn’t sit back down until he did as he was told, Elm took the pill.

“If you aren’t interested in working out,” Levi said, “then I’ll show you the studio.”

His ears perked up. “Studio?”

“My mother painted,” he replied. “I had the room cleaned and prepared for your arrival. Your things from your workshop on Glyph haven’t been collected yet, but—”

“Excuse me?” Elm set his fork down with a loud clack. “You aren’t allowed to send anyone to riffle through my stuff.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“Leviathan.” He refused to cower when Levi’s expression darkened warningly. “What if somebody breaks something?” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him to send Elm himself, but that would never work. Instead, he deflated. “Forget it. Don’t bother. I don’t need any of it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” One day, once he’d stabilized and managed to escape, he’d go back home. His things could wait for him until then. Having them brought all the way here would make it feel far too permanent, and Elm couldn’t handle that possibility at the moment. He was so emotionally exhausted.

“Omega.”

“What?” he snapped, unable to hold in his emotions. To keep himself from saying more, he downed the rest of his wine and reached for the bottle to refill it.