Chapter Seven – Mercedes
I don’t have much to unpack, obviously. It’s just the clothes I’d stuffed into my bag, my combat boots, and the old dress Raeka didn’t let me wear, along with the flats. I don’t put anything in the closet; I keep it all in the bag, but I do manage to change out of the dress. It takes me a while to shimmy out of it without anyone’s help with the zipper, but I make do.
I change in the bathroom, with the lights on and the door locked, and once I’m out of the dress, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My makeup is still perfect, but now that I wear nothing but a bra and panties, I can see the blemish on my body. The scar that refuses to heal and disappear.
Jay always made sure anything he did to me no one else would see. He never left bruises on my face or my neck, but he did leave marks everywhere else—and it’s one of these marks I stare at in the mirror while I slowly bring a hand to it. The moment I trace the round, uneven scar on my hip, I wince.
It doesn’t hurt now, but the memory still does.
What’s worse is that I couldn’t have done anything to stop him. As an omega, I was helpless to him, and since I was nameless and everyone was terrified of him, he could do whatever the hell he wanted, including marking me up before I even had my first heat.
A bite.
He bit me. The scar on my hip displays his teeth, where he sank them into my skin to claim me, a reminder of what he’d do once I was in heat and unable to think straight, so addled with need for a knot that I’d gladly take a true mate mark and tie myself to him forever.
This is why I needed to find a pack to hide behind while I figure out what to do next, somewhere Jay won’t be able to track me down and find me. If he finds me, he won’t be nice about it, and he won’t give me a choice.
I let my hand fall away and grab the clothes I wore to the Omega Garden from my bag, throwing them on in a hurry. The longer I look at that scar, the more I spiral.
I hate that I let him do that to me, but I hate myself more for knowing I couldn’t stop him even if I tried.
Once I’m in my comfy, normal clothes, hoodie and all, I leave the bathroom and return to the bed, slow to sit on its edge as I test it out. I bounce a little, and then I fall back as I shut my eyes. Holy crap, this bed is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever been on—not that I have much to compare it to, but still.
Shit. I never want to get up again. I’d die a happy omega if I died here, rotting and fusing to the bed.
I crawl up to the pillows and flop onto my side. Even though I’m on top of the comforter and the light to the room is on, I could fall asleep right here. That’s how exhausted I am… or how comfy this darn bed is.
And, what would you know, my breathing really does slow, and I’m pretty sure I do fall asleep.
Not for long, though—or I don’t think for long. I wake up after a while, finding the light to the room had been turned off; someone must’ve come by, seen that I was passed out, and flipped it off.
That isn’t to say my room is pitch-black, though. No, there is still ample light coming from the windows on the far side of the room. I yawn as I get up and shuffle over to them, peering out at the backyard. I spot a pool, and around the pool is a patio made of brick. The light filling the room comes from the firepit on the patio, where someone sits, watching the flames by himself.
Warren, if I have to guess. Apparently he wasn’t joking about wanting to burn those clothes.
Hmm. I don’t know about him. Then again, I don’t know about Nic, either. There’s no way he can be as earnest as he seems. If it isn’t obvious already, I don’t trust easily, and when it comes to alphas, that trust is even harder to come by.
I don’t know if there are good alphas out there. I really don’t.
My stomach growls suddenly, and I’m forced to reckon with the fact that I am, indeed, hungry. Hmm. Wonder if I could sneak downstairs into the kitchen without anyone knowing. I have zero idea what time it is. Maybe Nic and this Darius guy are sleeping and Warren is the only one awake.
My stomach gurgles again, a hunger I can’t ignore. I have no choice but to brave the dark, foreign house with the singular goal of putting something in my belly.
I gently open my door, trying not to make a sound. My bare feet help—thank God I’m not wearing those heels anymore. My calves are killing me. I step into the hall and start my trek down it, finding the stairs and descending.
Thankfully the house isn’t too complicated. It might be large, but it’s pretty straightforward. I’m able to find the kitchen without getting too lost, and the first thing I go for is the refrigerator. I find a bottle of water and snatch it for myself, unscrewing the top and chugging half of it. I guess I was thirsty, as well.
This water tastes so much better than the tap water at Solus Academy.
I start looking through cabinets, my eyes having adjusted to the darkness. I find what must be a protein-heavy section, maybe for after workouts? Anyway, I grab a granola bar and tear into it. It’s a bit cardboard-y, but I can’t complain too much.
I stand there in the darkness of the kitchen, eating the bar and finishing the bottle of water. I hate to admit how long it takes me to find the trash can—hint: it’s hidden inside one of the lower cabinets, which happens to be the last place I look.
Silly me, I grew up in buildings where the trash cans weren’t hidden away. Whey they sat out in plain sight and you could see their stained, dirty lids all day long.
Now that my stomach is sated for now, I should head right back upstairs to my new bedroom, crawl under the covers, and fall asleep for real. The time on the microwave above the stove reads one-thirty-two, which would explain why my eyelids are so droopy.
It’s late. Your girl is the opposite of a night owl.
That isn’t to say she’s a morning person, either, because she’s not.
Not a night owl, not a morning person… let’s just say I have a few good hours every day, towards the middle of the day, and that’s it. I’m barely a person.
All that said, for some reason, I don’t trek back the way I came. Instead, I find myself drawn to the set of double doors on the opposite end of the kitchen, the ones that let out onto the patio. The house is large enough it looks as though it has multiple exits to the grand patio; the kitchen’s exit is only one of them.
From where I stand in the shadows, I can see the face of the alpha sitting near the fire. Warren, like I thought. He sits on his ass, only a few feet away from the fire, his arms over his knees, an absent look on his face. Though I’m not too close to him, he looks like his mind is miles away.
Nic seems earnest and maybe even sweet. Darius, due to his lack of presence, seems like he doesn’t care. Warren, on the other hand, seems… different. Odd. Like there’s more to him than first meets the eye. I couldn’t get a read on him earlier.
I shouldn’t, but I let the curious part of me take over, and I step outside. I’m not exactly quiet about it, but as I come out, Warren doesn’t even glance in my direction. With the way the breeze is blowing, I don’t doubt he can smell me. As I approach him and the fire, he has to know it’s me.
I’m slow in sitting down near him—not too close, but a respectable three feet between us. The fire is warm and bright, and I mimic his stance as I turn my head to study him. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were going to burn the suit. I kind of thought you were.”
His response is quiet, and even though he answers me, he still sounds like he’s not fully here: “I never joke about setting uncomfortable, fancy clothes on fire. I never joke about setting anything on fire.”
I don’t quite know what to say to that, so instead I simply angle my gaze toward the flames.
Warren is the one who speaks next, “What are you doing up? Shouldn’t you be sleeping or something?”
“Why aren’t you?”
He looks away from me, giving me the back of his head as he stares off into space. “I sleep like shit. I’m lucky if I get a few hours every night.”
“That doesn’t seem healthy.”
My reply makes him chuckle and look at me, and the grin he wears is a devilish sort of wicked. “Trust me, Red, I do a lot of things that aren’t healthy for me.”
I pointedly ignore the weird nickname and say, “Don’t tell me you’re some kind of adrenaline junky.” With how I grew up, I never met someone who I could call a junky for life-or-death scenarios. Warren clearly lived a different life.
“That’s not the first thing that comes to mind when I think about myself, no.” He swallows, and over the crackling fire, I can smell him. His musky scent is mixed with the cinders of the flames, combining to make something so alluring my toes curl.
Thank goodness he doesn’t notice.
“So, what’s an omega who only wants freedom doing choosing a pack to match with?”
His question is so blunt, so straightforward, it makes me choke on air. How do I answer that question without getting too close to the truth? A part of me never thought I’d make it this far, and that’s why I don’t have a response readied and rehearsed.
When I don’t answer, Warren goes on, “You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”
“Who?”
“Nic.”
Of course, the alpha—the only alpha in this house, apparently—who wants me to be here. I shake my head once. “No, I won’t hurt him.” The expression on his face is mistrustful, and in my heart I feel he doesn’t believe me. “Listen, I know what it’s like to get hurt. I know how bad it can be, so I’d never put anyone else through that. It’s not the kind of person I am.”
“I guess we’ll see” is all he says.
And, strangely, it bothers me more than I care to admit. “Why did you even come to the Omega Garden? If you and this Darius guy don’t want an omega, why do it? Why not just send Nic to an omega heat den or something to sow his oats or whatever? Why go through all the hassle of bringing an omega here?”
“Darius is Nic’s older brother. He’d do anything for him. They may not be brothers in blood to me, but they’re still my brothers. If you being here will make Nic happy again, then you’re welcome to stay.”
He stands after that, slow to rise to his feet and use his six-foot-tall frame to tower over me. The orange from the fire gives him an added devilish flair. “But if you hurt him,” he warns me in a deadly, ominous tone, “I’ll hurt you, scar for scar.” With that, he leaves me alone near the fire, and I hear the door to the house closing a few moments later.
A small part of me, a very small part, is a little annoyed and upset at what he said, but the bigger part of me understands and even commends him. He’s protective of Nic. It’s sweet, even though that sweetness was basically a threat in my direction.
As I return my attention to the fire, I think about how much my life could’ve been different if I had someone who cared about me half as much.