Gold Rush (Golden Omegaverse #1)

Chapter 9 – Theo

CHAPTER NINE

THEO

I shouldn’t open the door .

But I want to. It’s begging me to.

Because I know that behind it is the answer to why there’s been soft laughter drifting up from downstairs since this afternoon. Behind it is the omega that Seth and Bennett brought home even though Arin isn’t here.

I’ve been hiding.

I don’t want to see them — any of them.

My fingers curl over the doorknob, forehead resting on the wood as my ears pick up the soft sniffling. She’s crying. She’s outside my door and she’s softly sobbing on my couch while Seth and Bennett are asleep on the floor below us.

I turn the knob quietly, and pull the door open, only to get hit in the face with the sweetest smell — thick sweetness, dripping and mixing with the herbal smell of tea, like a warm mug on a rainy morning. It makes my head spin as I stand still, letting it wash over me.

I should’ve bought that scent canceling spray .

I put the scent canceling wash in the guest room, but either she didn’t use it, or it doesn’t work, because the moment my brain adjusts to her perfume, it’s picking through it. I smell the slight bitterness in it, the hurt .

And she is just sitting there, in front of the windows, staring at the darkened street.

She’s gorgeous . The dim light catches on the red in her hair, making her stand out like fire in the dark. Her jaw and face are soft, rounded, her torso swallowed by a big sweatshirt. I can’t see anything but her knees up to her chest and her head resting there, but I’m suddenly certain the rest of her is just as beautiful.

And she looks so sad.

The urge to comfort her hits me, and I fight it, choking to hold still, forcing myself not to make a sound. I never wanted an omega. I’ve spent my entire life putting myself as far away from any possibility of crossing paths with one as humanly possible.

And now there’s one in the fucking house.

Anger sears through my body, clearing my thoughts as I shift.

The floor creaks under me and she jumps. Her perfume sours, the sweetness turning sickly, wrong , fear tanging through the air and slapping me across the face. My hindbrain scrambles, telling me to fix it, but I tense all my muscles, doubling down.

The bark comes out, low and harsh, and she reacts before she can even think about it. It leaves me with a sick feeling as her eyes widen and she scrambles away from me, fear in her gaze as she clings to the stairs and fumbles to leave.

Good — if she’s scared of me, she won’t get near me again.

Just like my mother makes sure to avoid my fathers.

“ Go .”

She runs from me, and I feel like my body is being cleaved in half. The urge to not let her out of my sight brings me to the top of the stairs, and I stare down in a daze as she wavers, looking back up at me. One more command and she tucks her chin, running away for good.

I stand there until I hear the door to her room slam shut and the lock click.

Not hers . The guest room. The guest room door slams.

The internet said that scent-cancelling products would make the adjustment easier on a new omega, because smells were too overwhelming to them. But what about me?

I lick my lips, tasting the sweetness in the air, assaulted by the burnt, acrid smell of fear tinting it.

She can’t stay.

I can’t fucking do this.