Chapter 3 #2
Clearing my throat, I shove that errant thought from my mind and focus on my brother. “Tell Reaper he owes me a suit.” Then I grab a pizza box from the top. “And please give Alina my apologies. However, I meant what I said, Orcus. You need to teach her Alpha etiquette.”
Our kind is possessive. Mentioning another male’s knot—especially in front of an Alpha mate—is a good way to inspire a brawl.
“Also, if Mykonos is breached, we’ll need to separate,” I add, not giving him a chance to comment. “I don’t want to know where you’ll take Thea and Alina, just in case.” Nor would I be sharing where I intended to take Serapina.
It’s the best way to ensure the safety of our Omegas.
While Alina may be claimed and therefore won’t emit any mating calls whilst in heat, the Alphas of our world have gone feral over the last few millennia. They’ll stop at nothing to take.
Which puts Alina at risk by being in close proximity to an unmarked Omega on the vestiges of an estrus.
Orcus nods, telling me he understands.
He’ll put his mate-circle first, as he should.
I’ll do the same for Serapina.
And Maliki, I think, considering my best friend. Yes, Maliki, too.
Because it seems clear my mate cares about him. That makes him even more important to me than he already was.
“Thanks for dinner,” I conclude, about to disappear.
“Be kind, Hades,” Orcus says softly. “And remember our roots.”
I stare at my brother. “I told you I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”
“Neither was I, yet you chose to tell me twice that I need to teach my Omega. So I’m giving you advice on how to treat yours. She doesn’t know you. And once upon a time, neither did Persephone. Try to remember that when handling your intended.” With that profound statement, he vanishes.
As does the box of pizza I was just holding.
I frown, irritated by both his words and his actions.
Apparently, I’ll need to manifest a pizza in the kitchen like a normal Alpha.
That’s fine. It would have been cold after my shower anyway.
Or maybe I’ll send Morpheus to Italy, I decide. If he’s going to stay here, he might as well be useful.
Energy surrounds me as I engage my misting ability, my mind set on sending my cousin on an errand, when a flicker of blue causes me to still.
It’s barely perceptible and in the corner of my vision, but as I slowly turn toward it, the color becomes more vivid.
My eyebrow arches, a rare emotion stealing through me—surprise.
I felt it earlier when I first heard of this little soul and his link to my mate.
And I feel it again now as Pip—the name Serapina has apparently given him—wavers in the in-between, his fiery eyes peering at me with tiny nervous flickers.
“You’ve come to guard your ward?” I guess.
He cants his head at the term, like he’s not sure he understands.
“Serapina,” I say slowly.
Her name causes his glowing orbs to crease into what appears to be a smile right before he executes an odd little twirl.
“I assume that’s a yes,” I murmur.
He nods and starts toward my cavern.
I step into his path, which causes him to backpedal. He’s smart to do so. While I may be in corporeal form, I command the in-between. That makes me impenetrable in both realities, no matter what form I choose to take.
“It’s dangerous here,” I tell the lost soul. “You can’t let anyone other than us see you. Do you understand?”
Pip glances around the vacant beach.
“I’m talking about the human visitors,” I elaborate. “There may not be any right now, but they do frequent this cove in their yachts.”
Twin flames blink at me.
“They won’t be kind if they see you,” I go on. “They won’t understand what you are, and they will fear you. So don’t interact with them.”
I’ve had this conversation with Ossa, Howl, and Mort before. Of course, they ignored me. Hence, the legend about a three-headed creature named Cerberus was born. No idea which mortal coined that title for my beloved familiar, but he or she is long dead.
“You must stay hidden,” I reiterate, then look him over. “Actually, you might be quite useful out here, if you want a job.”
Pip drifts a little closer, his eyes widening with what I presume is an indication of interest.
So I tell him what I would like him to do.
And watch as his chest puffs up with purpose at the request to essentially guard the coastline.
By the time I’m finished elaborating, he’s nodding eagerly.
I smile. “Serapina is lucky to have you.”
He executes another twirl.
Then he bows and scurries off to protect his ward while lurking in the in-between.
His existence is another layer of proof that Serapina isn’t Persephone.
Because my Omega would never have a soul as a familiar. She adored life too much for that.
Which leaves me with several lingering thoughts as I start toward my cavern.
This Omega may have my mate’s soul, but she isn’t anything like my Persephone.
So…
What kind of Omega is Serapina?
Who is she as a person?
Will she even let me get to know her after how I’ve treated her?
I suppose there’s only one way to find out.
But first, I need a shower and some new clothes. Then I’ll find my Omega.
And we’ll do what we should have done from the beginning—we’ll talk.