Chapter 14
14
T he wood of the bench feels cool beneath my thighs as I settle in front of the piano.
Damien hovers beside me, his brow furrowed with concern. “Do you need a cushion to sit on? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
Heat rises to my cheeks as memories of yesterday flood my mind, Damien’s powerful hands gripping my hips, the delicious ache as he filled me, our moans mingling in the air. Blushing, I duck my head as happiness fills me. It’s nice having someone worry about me like this.
Foreign, but nice.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, my fingers brushing the smooth ivory keys.
Across the room, Milo gets Leo settled into a chair pulled from the library, his feet propped up on a footrest. Leo’s coaxing is what pulled me out of the suite today, to keep him company while everyone else is in a meeting about how best to take down the Doctor’s lab.
Damien invited me to join them, but the thought of being surrounded by so many people sounds overwhelming. I’d far rather play the piano with Leo listening.
The worry about Damien leaving me here alone twists in my stomach, but I try to shake it off. This is me taking back control of my life and building relationships outside of Damien, just like my therapist wants. One small step at a time.
Damien rubs the small of my back. “Are you sure? It’s no trouble if you want a pillow.”
“I won’t be able to reach the pedals if I sit on a cushion.” To demonstrate, I swing my feet on the bench, my feet only just grazing the floor. “Really, I’m fine .”
Milo snorts as he pours tea for the pregnant Omega, the amber liquid streaming into a delicate china cup. “Stop fussing over him, Damien. He said he’s fine.”
A growl rumbles in Damien’s throat, and he shoots a glare at Milo. “Shut up, brat.”
“It’s sweet.” Leo picks through the plate of sandwiches balanced on his stomach. “Nolan is always doing thoughtful things like that for me, too. It’s good to be cared for.”
“You would think that.” Milo rolls his eyes. “Nolan is the worst hoverer.”
But no real malice backs his words, and fondness softens his beautiful features. The two Omegas are beautiful, one golden sunlight and the other fiery red. My hand lifts to brush through my shaggy black hair. Damien had mentioned getting a trim, but I don’t want a stranger touching me.
Maybe I can cut it myself, though. I’m not delusional enough to think a new hairstyle will make me fit in with the other Omegas, but at least I would appear more kept.
With a last glower at Milo, Damien sets my blanket on the end of the bench, then peppers light kisses along my cheek and jaw, his warm breath tickling my skin. “Ignore them, sweetheart. You can return to our suite whenever you need to, okay? Don’t worry about offending Leo if you get too tired.”
“I know.” I lean into his touch, soaking up his affection. “Thank you.”
He pulls back to cup my cheek. “We’ll be in the banquet hall if you need me, okay? I’m just a shout away.”
He had pointed out the room with a twelve-person table where the meeting will be held on our way to the music room. “Okay.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Damien, stop fussing!” Milo’s exasperation cuts through our little bubble. “We need to go, or we’ll be late.”
Annoyance flashes across Damien’s handsome face, but he doesn’t argue. He turns back to me, cupping my cheek to press one last lingering kiss to my lips.
Then he straightens and strides out of the room, leaving Milo to chase his heels and me alone with Leo. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the ticking of the ornate clock on the mantel. My fingers tremble as I stare down at the black and white keys.
What if I mess up? What if I disappoint him? Anxiety hooks its claws into me, and breathing becomes hard. But my therapist taught me coping techniques, and I count backward to center myself. I can do this. Damien believes in me. Leo believes in me. I just need to believe in myself.
Calmer now, I turn to Leo, who contentedly munches on a sandwich. “What would you like me to play?”
“To be honest, I don’t know much about classical music.” He rubs his belly. “It’s supposed to be good for babies to listen to it in the womb. At least, that’s what Nolan’s baby books claim.”
“Got it.” My fingers hover over the keys. It’s been a while, and the songs I learned aren’t technically classical, but they always soothed me. With a deep inhalation, I exhale slowly, the tension draining from my shoulders.
Soft notes fill the room as I play, and Leo leans his head back, a contented smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
As the melody flows through me, I forget all the fear, the uncertainty, the guilt. It all drifts away, leaving only the music.
When the last notes fade, Leo claps. “That was beautiful, Seven. Thank you.”
Warmth fills my cheeks at his praise. “You’re welcome.”
Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Are you having twins? Since your belly is so big?”
Leo throws his head back and laughs. “I thought the same thing at first! But according to Dr. Walton, there’s only one baby growing in here.” He pats his belly. “The rest must be all the sandwiches I’ve been eating.”
Since he had already inhaled half the plate, I can’t argue with his assessment.
“When we first got pregnant, Nolan went into full-on protective Alpha mode. He read everything about babies and had me eating nothing but salmon, avocados, and spinach for weeks.” A wistful sigh escapes his pink lips. “He was so worried about something going wrong with the pregnancy.”
The image of a big Alpha like Damien fretting over his pregnant mate brings a smile to my lips. “How did you convince him to let you eat other things?”
“Oh, believe me, it wasn’t easy. It started with a negotiation for cheat days, and his cousins would sneak me junk food as soon as he was distracted.” He rubs his belly again, chuckling to himself. “After the pregnancy cravings kicked in, I threatened to walk out if he didn’t start feeding me peanut butter and pickle sandwiches. Now, snacks are up to me, but I still eat foods that are healthy for growing the baby for breakfast and dinner, so he doesn’t stress.”
As I listen to Leo talk about his mate with such obvious love and affection, a flicker of hope blooms inside me. Maybe Damien and I can have something like that someday? A relationship built on love and trust, where we can tease and support each other through the ups and downs of life.
Leo somehow reads my thoughts. “You and Damien will get there. I’ve seen the way he acts around you. He adores you.”
Head down, I run my fingers over the piano keys. “I hope so. I just… There’s so much guilt over being here when Jade isn’t. I don’t want people to think I’m trying to take his place.”
Leo shakes his head. “What happened to Jade is not your fault. The people who took him, the ones who were holding you? They’re the ones to blame. Not you.”
He sets his plate of sandwiches aside. “Did Damien tell you how Milo was almost auctioned off by those same people?”
My head snaps up. “What?”
“They tried to hide it from me, because they worry about how much stress I’m under.” He purses his lips to show what he thinks of that sort of protectiveness. “Taking them down is how Jade was taken.”
Pain punches through me, and I press a hand to my stomach. “I didn’t know.”
“Jade understood the risks of the job he chose. He went in fully informed because he wanted to change things,” Leo says, gentle but firm. “It’s no more your fault he’s still missing than it’s Milo’s fault he was taken.”
His words wash over me, easing some of the guilt and shame for escaping when Jade couldn’t.
Damien and my therapist have both told me it’s not my fault, but hearing it from Leo—Jade’s family who barely knows me—helps quiet the coiled snake in my gut that whispers I don’t deserve to be here. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
Soft understanding shines from his eyes. “It’s easy to let negative emotions get the better of you, and once the hooks have sunk in, it’s hard to pull them free. Play me another song, and then I’ll tell you how I almost got Nolan killed.”
My mouth drops open. “What?”
He settles back in his chair. “Song first, then story.”
Amused by his antics, I turn back to the piano, letting my fingers hover over the keys for a moment before I start to play.
This time I choose the song my papa first taught me, hearing him hum along in my memory. The melody is happy, but a thread of melancholy weaves through it that always makes my heart ache.
As I play, I remember sitting next to Papa on the bench, watching his fingers dance over the keys. He would pat my head and tell me that someday, my fingers would be big enough to reach the keys, and then we’d play together.
We never got the chance, though. Life got in the way, and I stopped going to the community center with him, choosing to play with my school friends instead. Then I lost my chance when he was taken from us without warning.
After his funeral, I lived with regret for all the times I didn’t take more time to spend with him, but I don’t allow the sadness to drown me. Instead, I focus on the happy memories.
The way a dimple appeared in Papa’s cheek when he smiled.
The sound of my father’s laughter floating in from the kitchen.
The warmth of our little home.
As the final notes ring out, clapping comes from the doorway. “That’s my favorite song. I haven’t heard it in forever.”
My fingers stumble on the keys, and my heart leaps into my throat as the lid on my past cracks open. The person I was before my kidnapping clashes with the number I became, neither person fitting into the shell of who I’m growing into now under Damien’s gentle nurturing.
“Oliver!” Leo waves in welcome. “Come meet the recent addition to the family. He’s a musician!”
In slow motion, I turn on the bench, blood rushing in my ears. A man stands in the doorway, his black hair gleaming, his olive-hued skin glowing with health, and my world tilts on its axis.
His familiar, hazel eyes widen with shock. “Dylan?”
The name launches me off the bench like a slingshot, scrambling to put distance between us. This can’t be happening. No, no, no.
“Oh my god, Dylan!” Disbelief and joy radiate from him as he rushes forward. “I thought you were dead!”
Panic rises in my throat, choking me. I back away, my hands raised in front of me to ward him off. “No, no, no. You can’t be here. This can’t be real.”
Oliver reaches for me, but I flinch away from his touch. Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he doesn’t give up as he presses his hands against his chest. “Dylan, it’s me. It’s Oliver. Your brother.”
Brother. The word sends a jolt through me, and memories come flooding back. Playing in the park, chasing each other around at the rec center. Curled up together on the couch, watching cartoons on Saturday mornings. Oliver, who took care of me when our parents died.
But then I moved out. So desperate to prove myself as an adult. The day the men came and stole me from my shitty apartment, and no one came to save me. The pain, the fear, the desperation.
I can’t breathe.
Wheezing, I back myself into a corner, sliding down the wall until I sit on the floor. My arms lift to cover my head, trying to block out the world. This can’t be happening. Oliver can’t be here. It’s too much, too painful.
Through the ringing in my ears, I hear running footsteps, and then Damien’s demands, “What’s going on in here?”
Relief floods through me, and I peek out from behind my arms. Damien will fix this.
Instead, he goes to Oliver, putting a comforting arm around the other Omega’s shoulders, and it’s all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Like I’ve been swept into an alternate dimension where this isn’t my Alpha.
“It’s okay,” Damien soothes, pressing a kiss to my brother’s temple. “Give him some space. He’s had a tough time.”
As Oliver leans into my Alpha, pain slices through me.
Damien promised he would always be there for me. He said I could be a small cog in his family. But now, watching him comfort Oliver, all of those words pop like bubbles.
And if I don’t belong with Damien, I don’t want to belong anywhere.