3. Vera
Vera
The carpet in Mr Page’s bedroom is thick and warm, even thicker than in his office, my feet feel like they’re cradled by the stuff.
The room smells like some expensive incense and old wood. You know, that rich wooden scent you get from well-cared furniture that’s older than your grandparents.
Mr Page motions for us to step further into the room and then closes the door behind us, walking to the middle of the room as he looks around.
“This should do for now. I don’t believe either of you are in any state to run away, so I won’t put any guards outside the room or below the balcony.
” He eyes us, going serious. “But I would advise not to attempt it anyway. My men tend to be of the ‘kill first, ask questions later’ variety, especially when dealing with people they don’t know very well. ”
He saunters over to the balcony, opening the door and letting in the fresh air.
I have a feeling that it’s not just them who have that attitude, I suspect they get it from somewhere… If I go by what I’ve seen of Mr Page’s temper.
“Why are we here?” I glance around, trying not to be too obvious.
It’s clear that his favourite colour is red, as the carpet and most of the fabrics around the room are red, and the wood is all a complementary rich dark colour.
He’s got one of those beds you only see in period dramas, with the four posts, a canopy and even curtains. In front of the window overlooking the balcony are a table and two chairs, also looking like they’re straight from a period drama, perfectly matched to the colours of the bed.
Around the room are a few dressers and tables, all from the same dark rich wood. Though, I suspect that one of the doors going off this room is a walk-in dressing room as I’m sure he doesn’t store his expensive suits folded up in a dresser.
This room alone is worth more than our whole house… How rich is this fucker?
“Right!” Mr Page opens another door, opposite the bed, smiling almost kindly. “You two can clean yourself off in here. You look horrible and reek of smoke.” He pulls a face.
Which is rich, coming from a guy covered in blood splatter, including on his face.
Also, why are we in his bedroom for that?
I’m pretty sure a place like his has plenty of guest bedrooms for us to use.
Or, you know, some hose in a hole in the ground where he usually stores his captives…
But I keep the question to myself. I’m in no state to try to protect myself in case I accidentally offend him, and neither is Caleb.
“Thank you.” Caleb’s voice is low, careful. “We appreciate that.”
He’s using his polite voice, the one he only really uses when he knows he’s dealing with clients with a volatile temper, or people he doesn’t want to set off.
Mr Page narrows his eyes at him, stepping forward, then he seems to reconsider what he was about to do and steps to the side instead, a polite smile on his face.
“You’ll find everything you’ll need inside. There are towels on the rack and I’ll have someone bring you clean robes.” He looks us up and down, his eyes less indifferent than before, lingering on us a tad longer than strictly needed, making me squirm and my pheromones flare.
His eyes darken and he clears his throat. “Since I’m fairly sure I don’t have anything else in your size.”
“Thanks.” I pull Caleb’s arm over my shoulders again and help him walk to the bathroom. He’s starting to hobble more and more. I really need to check out the cut on his foot, clean it out before it gets infected.
“I’ll be right back. Feel free to use the shower, take a bath, maybe even use the sauna. Anything you like.” Mr Page steps away from the door, and after one last look at us, he leaves the bedroom, leaving us behind on our own.
The moment the door closes behind him, Caleb has me in his arms, his nose in my neck as he breathes in strongly, taking in my pheromones. I let them flow as I take in his, finally calming down as I surround myself with his deep forest-y scent.
My tears start flowing and Caleb lowers us to the floor, keeping me cradled against him, letting out a low soothing rumble.
It’s the same thing he did when he saved me from my ill-fated wedding.
I’d been refusing to eat for weeks before my wedding, ever since the man in charge of my parents’ pack told me that I was going to marry Hubert Russell, the most vile man that I knew, become his pack’s fourth Omega.
I’d hoped to die before the day came, but they force-fed me enough to keep me alive, even if barely.
Then, when my family finally managed to wrap that ridiculous dress around me —even more ridiculous because I was barely a skeleton by then and it was one of those massive princess dresses— Hubert dragged me out of the house and tried to force me into his car.
I had to hold my breath every time he was near, his pheromones were so revolting, though the rest of the pack didn’t seem to notice it.
And then, just as Hubert was about to shove me in one last time, his hands suddenly disappeared.
He was pulled aside, thrown to the ground, and I was picked up in strong arms, surrounded by the scent of the deep forest, and carried away.
Carried away from my family, from the man I was supposed to marry, carried away from everything I’d ever known.
We sat in Caleb’s massive truck, me in his lap, and he surrounded me with him , with his scent, with his sound, with his body.
I have no idea how long we sat there, listening to each other, wrapped around each other, learning each other’s scents.
They were the most amazing moments of my life up until that point.
And I’d never felt safer.
Surrounded by the scent of motor oil, garage and forest, I felt safe for the first time in my life.
It must have looked so silly. Him in his coveralls, stained with grease and other things, and me in my pristine white wedding dress.
But it was the first time I felt happy and safe.
Caleb is my Alpha, my protector, my safety. From the first moment I met him, I knew he was mine and I was his, forever.
Once we both calmed down, he stripped his coveralls to his waist, took off his t-shirt and gave it to me.
I slid out of the now stained wedding dress, dumped it out of the window and put his shirt on. It was way too big on me, more a dress than a shirt, full of holes and covered in his sweat, but it immediately became my favourite piece of clothing.
Of course, you don’t simply leave a guy like Hubert.
The moment he realised what had happened, and had recovered from the shame of his bride getting kidnapped on his wedding day, he came after us.
I never realised how dangerous he and his pack were until they came after us. The first few times he sent some of the Alphas and Betas of his pack, but when they failed, he hired professionals and things really got dangerous.
For the last six years, we’ve been able to avoid them, move from place to place, never settle anywhere for too long in case they find our trail.
Mechanics are needed everywhere and Caleb is a damn good one too, so it wasn’t hard for him to make money. And there’s always work for a young Omega willing to wait tables or work the crappy shifts at hotels and such.
We were able to avoid Hubert for six years…
Until he finally sent Mathew ‘The Cleaner’ Page after us. Mr Page is the best in what he does, moving things. Most often, that means moving bodies, no matter if they’re dead or alive. He gets it done.
I’ve known his name for years now, after we spoke to some people to see how we could get Hubert to stop. But we quickly dropped the idea as he was way out of our price range.
Finally having met him, Mr Page is nothing like what I expected him to be. With his reputation, I expected some big and burly brute, always screaming, using his pheromones to keep people in their place.
But he’s lanky and well-dressed, has a smooth voice that makes you pay attention immediately and he doesn’t look much older than me. He looks more like a business man than an enforcer. But he’s clearly deadly and not someone to underestimate.
A thrill shoots through my body, making me perfume again. He might not make me feel safe —quite the opposite, really— but he’s interesting. He makes me curious.
Caleb lets out a rumbling laugh. “Do try not to get yourself killed, please. It would be a shame to have to kill such a pretty man because he hurt you.”
I look up at Caleb, his scarred face, his soft grey eyes. “You think he’s pretty?”
He smiles, kissing my hair, tightening his arms around me. “It’s hard to deny when he looks like that. Even covered in blood, that man is mighty fine.” His pheromones spike and I mingle mine with them, laughing.
“He’s also pretty deadly…”
Caleb laughs again, giving me a long and slow kiss. “You know that that’s a turn-on for me.” He nudges me, making me move out of his lap. “Now, if you look for something to even-out our situation, I’ll warm up the shower.”
I stand up, helping him to his feet as he quickly strips off his underwear and steps into the shower, letting the water flow down his body.
I wish I could join him right now, but he’s right. It’s better if I get my hands on some weapons, in case Mr Page changes his mind and tries to get rid of us after all.
He might not feel like doing that right now, but it’s better to be prepared. With guys who are used to getting their way, you never know what will set them off and make them decide that keeping you around is too bothersome.
And while I would like to get to know Mr Page better, find out more about him, I know that our lives are only going to last as long as we keep being useful to him. As long as we don’t bother him or piss him off.
And I would like to be able to protect myself when that happens.
Because I’m not ready to die. And hell will freeze over before I let him put a finger on Caleb.