Chapter 4
Four
ANYA
My heart pounds against my ribs as I take a hasty step back, putting distance between myself and these men who stare at me like I’m some kind of rare creature they’ve captured.
The word ‘omega’ hangs in the air between us.
It’s an unfamiliar word, but it’s somehow making my skin tingle with recognition.
What the hell are they talking about? I’m just Anya, just human, just a girl trying to make enough money to survive, not whatever the fuck they think I am.
“I think there’s been some mistake,” I say quickly. “I’m not... whatever you just called me. I’m just here for the housekeeping position.”
The hot red-haired guy, Rex, narrows his eyes, sniffing the air between us with something like longing. “Your scent is clear as day. It’s faint, but it’s getting stronger now.”
I realize with growing horror that the more nervous I become, the more these men seem to smell something coming from me. Like they were freaking werewolves or something. Rex takes another deep breath, his nostrils flaring.
“Grape,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “Sweet, ripe grapes. Pure omega.”
“I don’t know what the hell an omega is,” I snap, pressing myself against the office door, ready to bolt. “And I’m not one. I’m just a regular person.”
The broad man with the dark beard suddenly moves toward me with a fluid grace that doesn’t match his size. One moment, he’s across the room, the next, he’s directly in front of me, looming over me.
His dark eyes burn into mine, making my heart stop instantly as I freeze.
“I’m Marcus,” he says, his voice a deep rumble. Without warning, he drops to one knee before me, his face level with my thighs. He leans forward, inhaling deeply, his nose inches from the hem of my uniform and embarrassingly right in front of my throbbing pussy.
I jump back with a startled cry, pressing my short dress tight against my thighs. “What the fuck?”
“I need to make sure,” Marcus growls, his eyes never leaving mine. “Spread your legs, omega. Let me confirm your scent.”
Something strange happens to me. It’s like I want to listen to his command. A wave of heat washes through me, settling low in my belly. An inexplicable urge to do exactly as he commands pulses through my veins. My thighs tremble, wanting to part.
I desperately want to obey him for some reason.
I clamp my legs together tighter, fighting against the bizarre compulsion.
“No,” I manage to choke out, but my voice wavers.
Marcus rises slowly to his feet, circling me with deliberate steps. I feel like a rabbit being stalked by a wolf. My breath comes in short, shallow gasps as he moves behind me, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
“Your body knows what you are,” he murmurs near my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “You can deny it, but your scent doesn’t lie.”
I try to keep him in my sight, turning awkwardly to follow his movement.
My heart hammers so hard I’m sure everyone in the room can hear it.
A primal part of my brain screams danger, while another part, a part I’ve never known existed, whispers submission.
I know with bone-deep certainty that if I try to run, he’ll chase me to the ends of the earth. Until I’m caught and I am his.
“You’re frightening her, Marcus,” Ryker’s voice cuts through the tension. “Back off. Now.”
Marcus pauses mid-step, a low growl rumbling from his chest. For a moment, he seems ready to challenge Ryker, but then he takes a reluctant step back.
I take a few quick breaths to ease the dizziness that I suddenly feel, and I quickly grab onto Ryker’s arm for assistance. “I’m dizzy… I don’t know why.”
“You must be hungry,” Ryker says to me, in a gentler tone than he used on Marcus. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
Relief floods through me. I nod mutely, grateful for the intervention.
The blond man approaches, moving with a casual grace.
“Sorry about Marcus,” he says with a wry smile. “He hasn’t had sex in years. Makes him a bit... intense.” He extends a hand toward me. “I’m Alaric.”
I hesitate before taking his hand, half-expecting him to try sniffing me too. Instead, he gives my hand a brief, respectful shake. Despite his apology, I can see the same hidden excitement dancing in his eyes that I noticed in the others.
It’s like they’ve all discovered something precious.
Ryker places a hand lightly on my lower back, guiding me away from the office. I allow it, desperate to escape the intensity of that room and the men’s stares.
“The pack is a little riled up with an omega in the house,” he explains as we walk down a hallway. “We’re all excited.”
“I’m not an omega,” I insist, my voice stronger now that we’re away from the others. “I don’t even know what that is.”
He leads me into a grand dining room dominated by a long table that could seat twenty people. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting warm light over the polished wood.
“I’ll explain everything,” Ryker promises, “but let’s get some food in you first. You’ve had quite a shock.”
As if on cue, a man in a chef’s outfit suddenly appears.
“You have a chef?” I ask, my eyes wide.
Ryker gestures toward him. “What would you like to eat?”
“Anything you have is fine,” I mumble, still shaken from the encounter in the office.
“That’s not an answer,” Ryker says firmly. “Do you like pasta? Steak? Tacos? Seafood? Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
I blink at him, unused to being given choices like this. Back home, food was whatever was cheapest or whatever John happened to bring back. The idea that I can just ask for anything seems absurd.
“Lasagna?” I finally say the word, coming out more like a question. I haven’t had a good home-cooked meal in a long time.
Ryker nods to the chef, who bows slightly and disappears back into the kitchen. I watch him go. I’m still half-convinced this is all some elaborate dream.
Before I can gather my thoughts, the rest of the men file into the dining room. They take seats around me at the table, their eyes never leaving my face.
I shift uncomfortably under their scrutiny.
“Where are you from, Anya?” Alaric, the blond one, asks, his tone conversational but his eyes sharp.
“Chicago,” I reply, fidgeting with the edge of my placemat. “But I’ve moved around a lot.”
“And your family?” Lorenzo chimes in, leaning forward with interest. “Do they know you’re here?”
I swallow hard, the familiar ache forming in my chest whenever my past comes up. “My mother left when I was six. My dad raised me after that.”
A heavy silence falls over the table. The men exchange glances, some kind of unspoken communication passing between them that I can’t decipher. My face burns with embarrassment. I shouldn’t have shared something so personal with strangers, especially ones who are acting so weird around me.
Rex, the redheaded one, reaches across the table, placing his warm hand over mine.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he says, his voice gentler than I would have expected from his fierce appearance. “It’s possible... well, your mother might have been an omega too. And your father... he might not have been your real dad.”
I snatch my hand away, ice flooding my veins.
“That’s not true,” I snap, but my voice trembles. What the hell was he talking about? These men are acting as if they know me.
“It’s just a thought,” Rex says quickly. “We’re trying to make sense of you being an omega, that’s all. It’s very rare.”
“How was your life after your birth mother left?” Ryker asks quietly.
The question is unexpected. And it makes my heart instantly ache. How was my life? Lonely. Painful. A childhood spent trying to be invisible in my own home, a teenager desperate for any scrap of affection, an adult convinced she’s unworthy of love.
“It wasn’t great,” I say flatly, unwilling to elaborate. I fall silent, staring at my empty plate.
The chef returns, setting a steaming plate of lasagna in front of me. The rich aroma of tomato sauce, herbs, and cheese makes my mouth water instantly. Despite the tension in the room, my stomach growls loudly. I haven’t eaten since a hasty granola bar at breakfast at the hotel.
I take a bite, and a small moan escapes me. The flavors explode on my tongue. The tangy tomato sauce, perfectly seasoned meat, and creamy sauce are all layered between tender pasta. I take another bite, then another, forgetting my audience as I devour the food.
It’s only when I’ve scraped the plate clean that I become aware of the men’s eyes on me. They’ve been watching me eat the entire time, their expressions a mixture of fascination and something darker, more primal. I wipe my mouth with a napkin, embarrassment flooding through me.
The intensity of their gazes makes my skin prickle with unease. A new fear creeps into my mind. What if they won’t let me leave? What if whatever they think I am is rare enough that they’ll keep me here by force?
I straighten my spine, gathering what courage I can muster.
“Ryker,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “You promised to explain what’s happening. What’s an omega? Why do you all keep saying I’m not human? Because I’m scared, and if I don’t get some answers right now, I’m walking out that door.”
Enough games. Enough weird behavior. I need the truth.
“You have wolf blood in you,” Marcus says before Ryker can speak, like he’s commenting on the weather and not shattering my entire concept of reality. My heart stops, my lungs freeze, my world tilts on its axis as I try to process what the fuck he just said.
Wolf blood? As in, actual wolves? The room spins around me, faces blurring as my brain rejects the very notion.
“Wolf blood?” I repeat, my voice climbing higher with each syllable. “What the fuck do you mean, wolf blood?”
My hands start to tremble as I grip the edge of the table.
This can’t be happening. These men can’t possibly be serious. And yet, the predatory way Marcus stalked around me earlier, the way they all keep sniffing the air, suddenly takes on a horrifying new context.