“I’m not a good artist, I can’t add in birds or anything like that. Maybe those funny little M shapes for them. And it’s not exactly my room.” Her head snaps up and she stares hard at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in his own mind. “For now, I can do whatever I want with it, like that bedroom you were looking at. But one day, I don’t know. Al dates betas sometimes, and Paul doesn’t really date anybody. Maybe we’ll find somebody who wants us?” He shrugs his big shoulders in an almost helpless gesture. “It just seems a shame to let it sit here empty for now. I wanted to make it pretty,” he mumbles, running one big hand through his messy hair. “Show off the potential…I don’t know. Just ’cause nobody wants it right now doesn’t mean it’s not good enough, it just needs the right person to really see it…to love it.”
The tips of his ears are bright red as he stares at the sky, and he won’t meet either of our eyes as he shifts from one foot to theother. Sarah is looking at him like he might hold the meaning to the universe—it’s forty-two. But as soon as she opens her mouth to reply, he bolts from the room. His voice calls over the loud thump of feet. “Gotta go finish unloading the car. I bet Paul and Sam have food ready.”
Chapter 48
My hand runs across the cool leather spines of the books. These aren’t my favorites. They are quite lovely, and they hold sentimental value, as my parents gifted them to me when I graduated college. But I’d be hard pressed to admit that my favorites are a stack of dog-eared paperbacks that are still hiding in my room so that they don’t get even more damaged. I’ve read them all repeatedly, and heaven knows that none of them are considered traditionally “valuable” but they’re important to me. Those let me escape.
I love my family, even though we don’t usually see eye to eye, but I’m a far cry from what my alpha fathers and brothers thought I would be. For a few years they were certain I would be an omega, but that didn’t turn out either. Even if I had just been a beta, it would make more sense than what most people see me as now, which is too heavily scented to be a beta, too much knotto be an omega, and too small to be an alpha. Not that they ever pressured me to be anything I’m not. In truth, they just want me to be happy. But growing up, everybody in our town knew my older brothers. They all played high school sports, they all went on to further those careers. And then there was the youngest, me, never quite…anything.
My parents brought it up a few times, trying to get me into athletics. They even offered to take me for fencing lessons, but I never wanted that. I’m happy for my brothers that this is what they want with their lives, but it’s not me, it was never me. I’d rather sit quietly and read a book than chase a puck around with a stick. I’d rather sit with someone and play a quiet game of chess than chase someone else across a field after a ball. Growing up, my mom readGrimm’s Fairy Talesto me when I was young. Stories of fantastical adventures of the youngest brother who, more due to intelligence, kindness, and perseverance, saved the day…and often his bigger, tougher older brothers. Not that I ever wanted anything bad to happen to my brothers, they can be assholes, but they’re mine.
As I got older, we branched out into classics likeThe HobbitorThe Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. While she never shied away from American authors, the majority of her collection were older British works. Then, in high school, I read my firstDiskworldnovel, and it struck a chord with me. Not just due to the comedy, which is wonderful, but the thinly veiled sociological commentary and introspection. I devoured everything in the series that I could find. And soon Mom and Dads would just take me to the bookstore for every holiday that involved gifts. If I could have brought only one box when I left my last pack, it would have had those books, the first ones Mom gave me from her own collection. None of them are worth anything to anyone else, but to me, they mean that my familyunderstands me; they accept me for who I am, even if I’m not like my brothers.
I knew when I moved here that everything I couldn’t fit in Nadine would probably end up in a dumpster, and while I’m not happy to have lost so many other books, it’s still a relief that I was able to save these. Of course, had I been more like my brothers, the omega that my pack chose would probably have accepted me. The alpha she brought in to replace me was a musclebound idiot. The same kind of person I initially took Spencer for. More the fool I.
Of course, now he’s besotted with the omega guest of his employers. He hasn’t said as much, but it’s painfully obvious. Thankfully, she’s only here for a week, and I can be polite that long. I may dislike omegas on principle, but she’s never done anything to me, so for now it’s fine. I just hope the big lug can keep his head and not get drawn into anything. I can’t lose my pack again.
Teddy stands off to one side, looking over Paul’s sparse collection of horror stories, while Kelly and Steve bicker quietly across the room about having Sam build more bookcases for their downstairs pack room. Those two fight about everything—never seriously, but they act like siblings more than mates, which makes sense, I guess. The sound of hurrying footsteps draws my attention to the hallway. It has to be Spencer; he’s the only one who sounds like a herd of elephants stampeding through the house. Sticking my head out the door, I call his name, wanting to make sure he’s ok. All I can see of him is his head as he practically runs down the stairs, and his reply is half shouted. “Gotta unload Nadine. Be back soon!”
That was…odd. The man has eccentricities, to be sure, but even for him that was off character. I’d almost think he was embarrassed, but I’d hate for him to feel awkward in his own home. This should be his safe space. Stepping out intothe hallway, I call back over my shoulder. “Lunch is probably ready whenever you’re hungry. I’ll be there shortly.” Teddy’s voice rumbles an affirmative, but the other two never stop their mutual sniping, so I’m unsure if they heard me.
It only takes a moment for me to be standing in the doorway of the nest that Spencer is so enamored with, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see the appeal of the room. It really is nice. Larger than the nest back at my old pack’s house, with a huge skylight and one wall nearly covered in windows. If I’m being honest, it would make a terrible library since there’s an attached bathroom; the humidity could be disastrous. But I wasn’t above a little white lie to keep Spencer from turning it into some sort of omega haven. We don’t need an omega. The fact that one is currently lying on the plastic-wrapped mattress and staring out at the passing clouds is beside the point. She’s not here to stay.
Greg looks over at me as I walk in, nodding my head back the way I came. “Is Spencer ok? He ran out of here in a rush. Did something happen?”
His voice is smooth and resonant; I can imagine why he would choose a musical career. He’s certainly suited for it. “I’m not one hundred percent, but I think he might have been embarrassed earlier. He was talking about painting in here and how he wanted to make it look like something from his childhood.” He sounds almost evasive, as if he doesn’t want to tell me exactly what that memory was. Not that I know a lot about Spencer growing up, but he’s my packmate. I have a brief internal debate on demanding answers, especially if this beta thinks it’s something he should hide.
His melodious voice draws me back. “Anyway, he got super flustered talking about how he was fixing up this room, saying just because somebody doesn’t love it now doesn’t mean it isn’t worth loving. Then he turned bright red and kind of bolted after telling us that lunch was probably ready. Sorry if we flusteredthe big guy. He was just so excited, but I promise we didn’t say anything to try to upset him.”
No, they wouldn’t have had to. Spencer, for all his overwhelming bravado, is a soft soul. I swear, he can’t even kill a spider; he always asks Paul or me to take it outside because he worries about hurting them inadvertently. And I fear it may already be too late for him not to be half in love with this girl. He loves people so easily that I sometimes envy him. He isn’t afraid to take the risk of caring for someone, whereas my jaded ass would rather just avoid people altogether than risk getting hurt again. I know there are good people out there; I only have to look at him and Paul for that truth. But is it worth the risk of letting someone in to find them?
Chapter 49
Mr. Shaggbutt is annoyed as hell when we get home. He seemed to take it as a personal affront that I left him alone with toys and a huge run area and food instead of being here to personally cater to his every whim. He thumps at me when I walk in, giving me a bunny death glare that doesn’t stop him from hopping over and head-butting my leg in a needy demand for attention, though. What can I say? It’s nice to be wanted, even if it is by a demanding fluffball.
I carry him over to the bed and flop down on the floor next to it. I don’t want to risk him making a mad leap off the edge if he decides he’s still angry at me. He cuddles his face into the crook of my arm and bruxes quietly. Maybe he was stressed at being alone in a strange place. More likely that freak of a cat was scratching at the door while we were gone.
I know Steve loves that thing, but it really is hideous. Of course, Teddy said it looks about a thousand times better than it did when Steve first brought it home, and I can’t even imagine. When we left, it was sauntering up the stairs, wearing a pink onesie with the word Queen written across the back. Thankfully, they leave the butt end open for her, but with such short hair and waving its tail around, it was basically like a damned exclamation point of cat asshole every time it walked away. Which cats—that’s what they do—shun people. Fuzzy little shit.
It’s not like I can talk, with Shaggy in my lap right now. I swear to god, if this little bastard was a girl, I would have named him Karen. Still, I love him, even when he’s demanding, and his happy little bruxing sounds tell me that he really just missed me and wants snuggles. Or he’s trying to butter me up for extra treats. Never trust a bunny—they will play with your emotions for the promise of watermelon...not that it’s in season right now, but he doesn’t know that.
He looks up at me, big black eyes staring into my soul as if he can read my mind and knows that treats are not forthcoming. He shuffles down off my lap, gives an annoyed little kick of his back legs, and hops back to his temporary home for the week, leaving me wondering exactly how much the little gremlin really knows.
While I’m contemplating the mysteries of the rabbit mind, Greg comes in. Teddy picked me up some sample books at the store; they were pretty cheap and will help me figure out ideas for my nest so I can order stuff, even if I have to wait until I get back to the omega center. While our plans went totally sideways, I can’t say I’m upset with the outcome. Being able to just talk to the big alpha without the pretense of what I’m supposed to be. It was nice to be myself. I love Greg—he’s one of the few people who accept me for me, even though I can be a lot sometimes. Teddy was the same way, and apparently so is Spencer, Spence, Moose. I don’t know what I should call him. Everybody elsecalls him by his name or a short version, but I kind of like the nickname. It’s mine, even if he isn’t.
But he’s so damned sweet, and I haven’t had an alpha purr for me in forever. Even if it seemed to embarrass him. He was so earnest too, and excited to be talking about what he’s doing with that nest. The room was bare-bones, but seeing it through his eyes…the potential to be more, to be important to someone. It almost made me weepy as fuck, and I don’t do weepy if I can avoid it. It happens sometimes. My poor Pretty Boy has seen it—multiple times over the holiday—but it’s still embarrassing. I’m supposed to be the strong one who takes care of shit. People aren’t supposed to have to take care of me.
It’s hard to suddenly have to do a one-eighty from what I knew growing up. Love your parents. Don’t be a burden. Help out when you can. Keep quiet. Don’t ask for anything because your siblings are already enough work. Take charge and do stuff for yourself when you can. Suddenly my designation hit and I had to do all of those, plus bend over backwards to make myself appealing to a pack of strangers so that they would take me off my parents’ hands since omegas are too “emotional and needy” to take care of themselves. I’m still the same as I always was; I just get heats and smell like a fucking dessert. Fuck me sideways, they even have heat services to help you through them if you don’t have alphas.
I thought about trying one early on, but it just felt too weird to be stuck together with a stranger for half an hour waiting for his knot to go down. I’d much rather use suppressants and toys to ride it out alone. Though now I have Greg, I’m sure he’ll help. Most guys seem to love the idea of helping an omega through heat. I don’t know if they realize that their nuts are gonna feel like fucking raisins afterwards, or they just don’t care.
Honestly, I’ve been fine on my own for years; I’ll be fine, regardless. I resent the fuck out of the regulations that say I needa pack or an alpha to take care of my ass. It would be nice if I had the option of setting some sort of challenge, at least. Be like Atalanta and demand a pack best me before they could claim me. Not a foot race, not with my height, but wrestling? I’m sure I could choke some big motherfucker out if it came to it…ok, not Moose, I’m not even sure if my arms would fit around his neck enough to get a good lock going on.
I miss him already. He tried to hide from me after what happened in the nest, but Paul made him come sit at the table and eat lunch, and I was able to catch up to him afterwards when he tried to bolt. We had to leave shortly after so Sam could get home and let Jake out, but I hope I can see the big guy again. Paul was super sweet too, in a friendly but detached kind of way. No talk about wanting an omega or overt flirtation the way that some unmated alphas do. He was polite, respectful, and a bit distant, but still kind. The only one I have a lot of reservations about was Al, but I barely talked to him; he seemed to slide out of any room as soon as I walked in. Is he shy, or does he just not like me?
Regardless, I think I’m going to check out Moose’s schedule for this week at the gym. My best friend is the owner, so it would be weird not to hang out there with him while I’m visiting, and if I happen to run into the big alpha…oh no, how terrible. Something about him just makes me smile.
Greg settles behind me, lying stretched out on the bed. His hand rubs through my hair as we both watch Shaggy hop around his enclosure, giving happy little honks of excitement when he finds the bundle of mint that my beta dropped in his food bowl. I’ll need to thank Sam again for grabbing that stuff at the store. I planned on doing it myself, but then it flew out of my head when I broke Moose’s nose. He was so sweet about it, too. How the hell can you be that nice to somebody else when you’re bleeding fromthe face? I don’t want to think it’s all an act, but if it’s not, then this guy is unlike anything I’ve seen before.
