Chapter Sixteen - Mercedes
Chapter Sixteen - Mercedes
I kissed Nic. That thought rings in my head all throughout the day, followed shortly by: I have a date with Warren tonight. Warren, the hot and cold alpha who I was starting to understand a little better now that I knew he’d seen some shit between alphas and omegas.
His parents, I assume.
It makes sense. Things aren’t always good between alphas and omegas. How could they? People suck. People are jerks. People are abusive. I know that better than most. Sometimes things don’t end up the way you hope.
I shouldn’t have kissed Nic, and I definitely shouldn’t have let him kiss me again after. It was just feeling his hand on mine, feeling his comforting cheek kiss… I don’t know. I lost all self-control, just like that. I wanted to kiss him, so I did, and then he was so shocked he didn’t respond at all.
That was, until I tried to run away and he caught me, asked if he could kiss me again, and then showed me what a real kiss was.
God, I didn’t know it could feel like that. I didn’t know a kiss could make my toes curl and my heart act like it just ran a marathon. I felt that kiss in every nerve of my body, and I never wanted it to end.
And the slick that came from me during it? I was embarrassed; leaky bodily fluids is the worst part about being an omega, I’m learning—but Nic didn’t want me to go clean up. I think he wanted to smell it, smell me, so he told me to sit down, eat, and we would discuss the meal plan for my future dates.
And that’s what we did. We had that discussion while my panties were soaked and he had a hard dick fighting against the zipper of his jeans. Once I got over how strange it was, how embarrassed I was, it actually wasn’t so bad.
It was kind of hot, both of us knowing the other was aroused and trying to keep it cool.
But that was earlier, before I showered and got ready for this date with Warren. As much as my mind wants to replay that kiss with Nic, I can’t let it cloud my thoughts while I’m with Warren. It’s not fair to him.
As strange as it is, I do want to get to know him a bit more. I’m curious. I’ve also never been on a date before. Granted, it’s just a date here at the house, so nothing too fancy, but it’s still exciting.
For tonight, at least, I’ll pretend I don’t have another alpha I’m running from. Tonight, I’m someone else, someone better. Someone with way less baggage and scars.
Now, will I be as excited for the date with Darius? Heck no. I need to find a way out of that one. Being alone with that alpha is the last thing I want to do, and I bet anything he feels the same way. Darius and I just don’t click, even if his scent makes everything in me go nuts.
I’ve never been a girl who likes to dress up, but then again, I’ve never had many clothes of my own before. Now I have a full closet, with all different kinds of clothes, so I have a smorgasbord to choose from. I definitely don’t want to get as dolled up as I did at the Omega Garden, but I don’t want to show up wearing leggings and a plain shirt, either.
When Nic went shopping for me, he got me a few dresses. I choose a deep red one with the sleeves hanging just off the shoulders. There aren’t any jewels sewed in, and it ends just beneath my knees. Long enough to be respectable but not so long or fancy it’s a ballgown. Just a simple, pretty dress.
I’m still me, though, so I pair the dress with my favorite pair of ankle-high boots. They don’t really go together at all, but I don’t care. I love these boots. I remember being so excited when I pulled them out of a donation bin and saw they were my size.
I don’t do anything special to my hair, but I do wash it. It dries into a natural, semi-wavy state. With a bit of red lipstick, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be for the date.
It’s just before six when I venture downstairs and find the dining room table all set up for the ambiance. Tall candles are lit, and a full-course meal is prepared and laid out, an empty plate where Warren will sit, and an empty plate for me. I hear both men talking nearby, and though I should probably go to them and let them know I’ve come down, they’ll smell me soon enough.
Plus? This food looks too damn good.
Bread rolls. Baked carrots and potatoes. Some kind of chicken with a creamy, white sauce. I don’t know what it is, but it smells delicious, and my stomach rumbles.
I sit down right when Warren walks in. He wears a frown—and I think I know why. His six-foot-tall frame is clad in a black, long-sleeved, button-down shirt that’s tucked into his dark slacks. He wears a leather belt and fancy shoes. His black hair is recently cut, like he stopped by a barber shop on his way home from work: the sides are shorter than the top, which remains a few inches long and a little unkempt.
But it’s Warren, and he rocks the look anyway.
He sees me sitting down, and the light from the lit candles dances in his blue gaze as he studies me over the table. “You look good,” he says, complimenting me and sounding awkward at the same time.
He cautiously sits in the chair opposite mine, and we are alone in the dining room, the mood dark but serene.
“You look good, too,” I say. “I’m surprised you’re wearing something like that. You complained about the suit you wore to the Omega Garden a lot.”
His wide shoulders go up and down once. “Nic said I should try to look good for you.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I got a haircut.”
“I noticed.”
“I look like a dork.”
His blunt reaction to his own haircut makes me chuckle, temporarily forgetting how hungry I am and how delicious this food looks. “You don’t look like a dork. I like the haircut.”
Warren perks up like a dog that was just told he was a good boy. “You do?”
“I do.”
He coughs. “Uh, good. Great. Um, I guess we should… eat?”
I can’t help it. I smile. “I guess we should. I mean, Nic made us this food for our date, so it’d be terrible to let it all go to waste.”
Both Warren and I pile the food onto our plates, and neither of us say another word as we begin to eat—though there are a lot of glances exchanged. I watch him, and he mainly stares at his food. Every so often he’ll look up at me, but when he finds me staring at him, he quickly drops his gaze to his plate.
It’s almost like he doesn’t want to be caught staring or something. Maybe he’s nervous. He’s clearly got some issues, so him being nervous makes sense.
“So, Nic told me you guys do security?” I break the silence of the table, figuring work is a safe subject to discuss. Maybe that’ll get us over this awkward hump. Or maybe not. Maybe this just isn’t going to work.
“The company we work for does,” Warren says, pausing to take a rather large bite from the bread roll on his plate. And then, with a half-full mouth, he adds, “But Darius mainly deals with the clients who want to hire us. Nic’s been on paperwork duty for… a while now. I—” He stops himself from saying anything else.
“You what?”
“I’m… more… hands-on, I guess?”
“Hands-on, what does that mean?”
He swallows. “Let’s just say I use my knives a lot.”
Oh. Oh . That’s what that means. I do remember the clothes he wears when he comes home, and how he’s covered in straps all over. If he has a whole bunch of knives, it makes sense. I can easily imagine him using a knife, too—and that should terrify me, but it doesn’t.
If anything, it makes me appreciate him even more. If Jay ever found me, somehow, Warren would be able to protect me.
It’s Warren’s turn to ask a question: “If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?”
I don’t answer him right away. I eat a few pieces of the cooked carrots and think about it as I chew, and what I come up with is kind of depressing. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”
His dark brows rise. “Never?”
With a shake of my head, I reaffirm, “Never.”
“How? Isn’t that something everyone thinks about?”
“Maybe, but not me, and probably not most of the omegas at Solus. We’re not… we’re ignored. Forgotten about. Taken advantage of. Daydreaming about work or a career isn’t important, because we know what waits for us once we come of age.”
Warren frowns slightly, but it’s not an ugly look. No, if anything, it’s one of concern, like he’s never really thought about it before. “Then what did you daydream about?”
“Remember what I said at the Omega Garden?”
“Freedom.”
I’m honestly shocked he remembered. A part of me assumed he wasn’t paying attention to me at all that night; he acted so disinterested, like he would’ve rather been anywhere else. It takes me a moment to say, “Yeah, exactly. That’s the only thing I really daydreamed of.”
“And it’s the one thing you can never really have as an omega,” he says, sounding sad for me. “No matter where you go, no matter where you choose to call home, you can never be free of the fact that you’re an omega and you need help.”
“I… think an omega can be free—”
“Can they? Say you move to the safest city for omegas. You’re hardwired to have heats. You’ll still crave alphas during that time. You’re still susceptible to alpha dominance. You can run as far as you want, but you’ll never be able to hide and truly be free from what you are.” Softer, he adds, “That sucks. I never thought about it like that. I’m sorry.”
Shit. I never thought about it like that, either. That’s depressing.
Even if I manage to run from Jay, I’ll never really be content. I’ll always have heats—and if I don’t have any alphas nearby, I’ll feel like dying from the pain. And if, by some chance, I come across a random alpha who decides to make me his, how on earth would I be able to stop him?
I spent so long daydreaming about escaping from Jay that I never really thought about what would come after. I’d run from one problem and go head-first into another.
Warren speaks, “You know, you don’t have to run.” When I look at him with a confused expression on my face, he adds, “I heard what you were looking up on Darius’s computer. I know Nic put it into the offer, that you can back out, for whatever reason, anytime you want. We might not be perfect, but… we’re not bad. We could protect you, if that’s what you’re worried about, if there’s someone out there you’re running from.”
It isn’t the first time someone in this house has put it together; Nic did, too. It makes me uncomfortable knowing these guys can peel away my secrets just like that.
“Is there?” When I don’t say a word, he asks again, “Is there someone you’re running from? We’re good at finding people. We could take care of him.”
“Take care of him—take care of him how?”
Warren shrugs as he says, “Intimidate him. Scare him out of the city. Torture him. Kill him. Whatever you want, really. I’m not opposed to cutting certain things off. Nothing’s out of the question, if you wanted it.”
The way he says all that, so bluntly, makes my jaw drop. I’ve never had someone so effortlessly offer to kill someone else for me, so I don’t exactly know how to respond. It’s… sweet, I think?
Sweet, in a really weird, murderous, definitely illegal way.
“So,” he goes on, “who is it? Did someone bother you at Solus? Give me a name.”
“Warren,” I say with an uneasy laugh.
“Red. Tell me.”
To try to change the subject, I ask, “Why do you keep calling me that?”
He purses his lips like he knows I’m attempting to switch gears in this conversation, but eventually he gives in and says, “Red’s your color. You were wearing it at the Omega Garden, too. You look really good in red.”
I realize I’m wearing red again, and I look away and blush.
“You look good in any color, honestly, but there’s something about the color red that makes you pop.”
“Let’s talk about something else, please.”
He shrugs. “Okay. What?”
I have to lead the conversation as we eat. I guide us away from what I’m running from, how good I look in red, and any aspect of death or killing. Believe it or not, it’s not easy. No matter what I say, somehow it links back to one of those things.
Once the meal winds down and our plates are pretty much empty, I decide to say something that might set him off, tiptoeing in dangerous territory: “Tell me about your parents. You’re not an Alabaster by blood. Nic told me you guys were best friends and his parents adopted you.”
Warren sets his fork down and coughs. “I don’t… I don’t really want to talk about that.”
Hmm. Well, since he let me change the subject off what I didn’t want to discuss, it’s only fair that I let him do the same.
“Okay,” I say. “We don’t have to talk about that. What do you want to talk about?”
With a shake of his head, he mutters, “I don’t know. I’m not… I’m not good at this. I don’t do dates. This isn’t me. I’m not—” He starts to breathe more heavily, and he reaches to his neck to undo the first button and give his throat some breathing room. “I need some air.” He says nothing more as he stands and walks away from me. A few moments later, I hear the patio door as he slips outside.
I sit in the candlelight for a while, wondering what I should do. I’m not good at this stuff either. I don’t do dates. This isn’t me, either. I can literally say the same things he did. Warren and I are a lot more alike than I first realized.
I’ve been alone my whole life, feeling trapped no matter what I did, and that’s why I know what I have to do.
Getting to my feet, I go after him.