Chapter 3
Diego
My thoughts tumble over each other in my mind as I consider what Olly said. A spicy omega … The Latino in me approves.
I’ve been called spicy by some omegas in the past. One old flame said I smell like chili powder. She called me her “little bowl of salsa.”
She also called me some rather unsavory things when we broke up.
I’ll forever be grateful for Gage taking me into his pack when we were kids. No one dared challenge him when it came to my acceptance, and if they did, they ended up with broken noses and wounded pride. Gage doesn’t stand for intolerance. His method of negotiating with bigots usually includes fists and fury, often weapons if the idiots don’t get the message right away.
Gage is, for lack of a better term, my hero.
Over the years, Gage, Emmett, and I have developed a bond that goes beyond mere friendship. Olly, too, to some extent, though he’s a bit distant at times despite being with us for so long. Our little pack runs like a well-oiled machine, and no one bats an eye at my tan skin or dark looks. If a bit of Spanish slips out when I talk, no one sneers or slings insults.
Since we’re all so close, the showers at the compound are set up more like the kind you’d find in a gym or sports complex. Instead of individual stalls, our shower room is open, with six rows of shower heads on both sides of the long, tiled room. We can shower separately if we want, but sometimes the lack of an omega of our own leads to … special needs.
Em tends to his fantasies about our omega target while we wash up from days trekking through the woods. As he fists his hard cock, I hear him muttering things like “cinnamon … peppercorn …”
over the hiss of the shower streams. I’d help him through moments like this if he’d let me, but he never extends an invitation. For whatever reason, Emmett wants these moments to himself, so I don’t interrupt, despite having some urges of my own that require attention.
Luckily, after Em finishes and cleans up his mess, exiting the showers and leaving me alone, Gage appears for his turn to wash up. Gage takes one look at my cock, which is just as in need of servicing as Emmett’s was. His lips spread in a wry grin, and he makes his way to my shower.
“Got omega on the brain, bro?” he asks.
I nod with a groan as he sidles up behind me, wrapping me in his big, tattooed arms. One hand moves to my shoulder, holding me against his broad chest, while the other grabs my cock with a firm grip.
“I got you, Diego.”
Gage’s words of reassurance open up a floodgate inside me, and I thrust into his hand.
“There you go, man. Picture that hot, spicy little omega. Imagine her warm pussy wrapped around you instead of my hand. Give me all you plan on giving her. Let me have it.”
Just when I’m almost at the edge, Gage moves his free hand between us. I feel a finger slide into my ass, slowly fucking me while I fuck his other hand.
“Are you ready for me, Diego?”
In a pack without an omega, where we have no other options for release, I’m always ready for Gage. I nod, panting for breath, and he gently pushes my back forward until I’m leaning over in front of him, never letting go of my cock while he positions himself behind me. A soft tug and a squeeze of my balls sends a thrill up my spine, making me moan, and Gage spears me in one thrust.
My release comes quickly after that, ejecting hot bursts of cum onto the shower wall. Gage fucks me softly, almost sweetly, murmuring the whole time about the omega that got away. Soon I realize he’s not feeding my fantasy anymore, but rather narrating his own daydream. A lesser alpha might get jealous, but not me. Whatever it takes to get Gage where he needs to be for this. Sometimes his focus is on me and my pleasure, but sometimes it means letting him drift into his own world of sexy, willing omegas while I provide a warm place to milk his cock.
Gage rides me through a second orgasm, leaving me shaking and gasping for air, before he allows himself to come. He kisses the back of my neck and pulls out slowly. His cum drips from me, and he turns me around so the steaming stream can rinse it off. Gage’s lips meet mine, and we kiss until the hot water runs out and the frigid temps force us to step out of the showers and wrap up in warm towels.
“Feeling better?” he asks.
I nod, still at a loss for words. I’m doing good to remember who I am after that.
“Good. I need everyone in top shape. We can’t let her distract us. Our mission is to capture her and bring her in, no matter how good she smells.”
His sobering talk allows my brain to catch up, and my ability to communicate returns. “Something about this doesn’t sit right, Gage. The Orion pack is shelling out a pretty penny to get her back, but why would she run in the first place if she’s their mate?”
Gage pauses in the midst of his drying, as if caught off-guard. “Well, I mean, some packs take on omegas that aren’t actually mated to them. Or maybe there was a lovers’ spat, and that’s why she ran off.”
I shake my head. “That still doesn’t make sense. A good pack takes care of their omega, spat or no. She shouldn’t have had any reason to run.”
He sighs and hangs up his towel. “These are questions for after. I don’t have any good answers for them right now. Without the omega to interrogate, and with the Orions being so tight-lipped about the details of her escape, we’re stuck in limbo.”
After a quick squeeze of my shoulder, Gage wanders off towards the dorms, presumably to get dressed. I should do the same, I suppose, but the growing enigma surrounding our target plagues me, slowing my steps. I don’t understand her reluctance to follow a pack of alphas telling her to come with them, especially not when the scent of her arousal was so strong on the cliff. She wanted Gage, but she still fought back. She still resisted, and that doesn’t track.
A spicy omega with a spicy attitude. She sounds more bruja than bride, like a witch sent to bespell us.
By the time I throw on some loose pajama pants and a hoodie and head for the mess hall, Emmett already has dinner ready. Since I’m not cooking, the pickings are slim: pizza and, well, more pizza. I’d take a slice, but I’m not particularly in the mood for it. We failed today; we haven’t really earned food.
I’m not the only one picking at my food. Gage and Emmett both seem equally distracted, though I note that Olly dives in with gusto and maintains the entire conversation by himself.
“...So, I was thinking we could maybe keep the omega here for a few days before we hand her over to the Orions. You know, run some tests. Find out why she smells the way she does, why she acted the way she did.”
I freeze with my fork halfway to my mouth. Emmett and I exchange a glance, and Gage sighs.
“Let’s stop that for now, Olly,”
Gage says, rubbing his temple. “First, we have to find her again–if she survived that fall. Then we’ve got to capture her, and then maybe we can investigate her strange nature. Just remember this: She already escaped one pack. If we can’t keep her once we’ve got her, it’s all moot. I doubt the Orions will give us another chance. We lose her again, and they’ll hire another pack.”
“Yeah, Olly. Let’s not put the cart before el caballo, eh?”
Olly’s face falls, and he clamps his mouth shut.
Great. I triggered a nonverbal episode in the poor guy. Once he’s like this, he doesn’t talk for hours, maybe days even.
I hope for his sake that we find Auryn again, and that we can catch her.