7. Saviors Awaiting Their Princess
Saviors Awaiting Their Princess
~WILLA~
T hey settle me at the kitchen table like I'm made of spun glass, and maybe I am— fragile and see-through, all my careful walls shattered by recognition. Cole's hand stays on my shoulder a beat too long, and the weight of it sends conflicting signals through my body.
Safety and danger all tangled up in the scent of pine and leather that's suddenly so much stronger than before.
Now that I know— now that my mind has connected past and present —their scents assault me differently.
Not just four attractive Alphas anymore, but four saviors who pulled me from death.
My body responds to that knowledge with a visceral Omega reaction that makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
Gratitude and phermones mixing into something that feels too much like submission.
"Tea," Austin says, setting a mug in front of me with careful hands. "Chamomile with honey. Good for the throat after—" He stops himself, but we all know what he means.
After panic attacks.
After smoke damage makes breathing feel like drowning.
After remembering the worst night of your life.
The mug is warm between my palms, grounding me in the present even as their scents create a cocktail that makes my hindbrain purr.
I hate it.
Hate how my body softens without my permission, how my breathing syncs to theirs, how every Omega instinct screams that these are good Alphas, safe Alphas , Alphas who've already proven they'll walk through fire for me.
Yet, how do you trust again after such immense betrayal?
When you planned your whole future.
Imagine the little babies who’d cry and you’d cradle to bed, singing lullabies and daydreaming of whom they’ll become in our society.
How do you simply snap your fingers and hop into that state of hope and belief when your world came crashing down by the same men that promised you everything and more?
You don’t.
"I don't remember," I admit, watching steam rise from the tea. "Not clearly. Just fragments. The smoke was so thick, and Blake had—" My voice catches on his name, but I force through. "The drugs he'd given me made everything fuzzy. Then the smoke on top of it..."
"Rohypnol," Mavi says quietly from his position by the door. "In your system when they brought you in. Made you suggestible, compliant. Also affects memory formation."
Of course he'd know.
Former law enforcement would recognize the signs, the drug of choice for Alphas who want compliant Omegas. My stomach turns, but under the nausea I dare acknowledge the other sensation—relief that there's a reason for the gaps, that I'm not just broken.
River resumes chopping vegetables, the rhythm soothing.
"You kept trying to thank us. Even half-conscious, smoke inhalation severe enough that you should've been focused on breathing, and you kept saying thank you."
"Polite even while dying," Cole adds, and there's something in his voice—frustration, maybe, or old anger carefully controlled. "More worried about being a bother than staying alive."
He's moved to lean against the counter where I can see him, and the casual pose doesn't hide the tension in his shoulders.
None of them are as relaxed as they're pretending.
They're all watching me, cataloging my recovery like they've been doing it for months.
Which they have, I realize.
Waiting. Watching. Keeping my grandfather's ranch perfect while I healed and fought divorce proceedings and tried to piece my life back together.
"Why?" The question comes out smaller than intended. "Why wait? Why care what happened to some Omega you'd never met?"
They exchange those looks again, but this time I can read them better.
Not conspiracy but care.
The kind of coordinated concern that comes from a bonded pack.
"William talked about you constantly," Austin says, settling Luna back in her high chair. She immediately reaches for me again, but less desperately now. "His granddaughter who should've been born an Alpha, who fought for everything twice as hard because of her designation."
"Showed us every letter you sent him," River adds. "Even the ones from when you were small. Little Willa telling him about school, about dreams, about how unfair it was that your parents named you wrong."
So they’ve know Grandfather for that long?
Years upon years.
My chest tightens.
I'd forgotten those letters, written in careful child's handwriting, pouring out hurts I couldn't tell anyone else.
Grandpa always wrote back, always said I was perfect as I was, that Willa was a warrior's name if I wanted it to be.
"He worried," Cole says simply. "Saw you getting ground down by a world that wanted you smaller. When you married Blake?—"
"He knew." The realization hits like cold water. "He knew Blake was wrong for me."
Everyone probably knew, but this was the “right” way.
The only way for an Omega to still “thrive” in a society that wanted us to stay small.
Heck, deep within, maybe I also knew they weren’t right for me.
But why would I reject them?
Alphas who promised me a future I knew I’d never be able to obtain on my own. Not with the help of a group of men who could give me the environment to flourish to whom I wished to become.
Only I didn’t read the fine lines…
Didn’t realize they didn’t see me as an ally, let alone someone they envision would do well in a society not meant for her rise or reign.
"Said the wedding announcement felt like reading an obituary," Mavi confirms. "That's when he started putting plans in place. Hired us to run the ranch, made sure the will was iron-clad, waited for you to need an escape route. We weren’t present as often as now, obviously, but we balanced it with our jobs and hobbies. "
"But he died before—" My voice breaks.
Before I could reach him after escaping death.
"Three weeks before," Austin says gently. "We'd just gotten word about his death when the fire happened. He never knew you'd need us so soon."
The tears come again, quiet and inevitable.
Four men who'd been hired to tend a ranch became my rescue squad because an old man worried about a granddaughter too stubborn to ask for help. The irony of it—Grandpa taking care of me even after death, through these men who've been waiting, faithful as fairy tale princes.
Except they're not princes.
They're real, flesh and blood Alphas whose scents are making my skin prickle with awareness.
Every breath brings their combined presence deeper into my lungs—pine and earth and smoke and clean mountain air creating a harmony that speaks directly to primitive parts of my brain.
I shift in the chair, trying to ease the building tension in my lower belly.
But movement only makes it worse, fabric sliding against sensitized skin, every nerve ending suddenly awake and cataloging their presence. This is what I was afraid of— not them, but my own body's betrayal.
The Omega need to submit to Alphas who've proven themselves, to bare my throat and offer everything to the ones who saved me.
"You're safe here," River says, and I realize he's noticed my distress. Of course he has—they all have, probably scenting the unwanted arousal mixing with my fear and confusion. "Whatever you're feeling, it's normal. Omega stress responses after trauma can be…intense."
Intense…
If only it was “just” that and not our chemical makeup making us horny and needy to be satisfied the moment an Alpha gives us the time of day.
Let alone four sexy Alphas who reveal they’ve been yearning your return in an act of duty.
Clinical words that do nothing to ease the way my body clenches when Cole shifts position, or how my breath catches when Austin leans close to check on Luna.
Four Alphas surrounding me with gentle strength, and my designation screaming to submit, to thank them properly, to?—
"I should go," I say abruptly, starting to stand. "This is—I can't?—"
"You can." Cole's voice carries just enough Alpha authority to make me freeze, though he's not using a Ccommand. "You're exhausted, overwhelmed, and processing trauma. Your body's going to react. We know that. We're not going to take advantage."
That’s good…I guess.
I try to ignore the obvious disappointment forming in the depths of my core that’s desperate for “that”.
Trying to even recall the last time I’d had proper care in the lovely Omega department of sexual interactions only makes me want to laugh pitifully at what I dare call a sex-life.
Some Omega I am.
"We're not those kinds of Alphas," Mavi adds, and there's steel in his voice. "Whatever Blake did, however he made you feel about your designation—that's not happening here."
But that's the problem.
They're good Alphas, honorable ones, and my body knows it.
Every protective instinct they display makes the Omega in me purr louder, want harder.
I'm wet between my thighs, empty and aching, and they can probably smell it.
The humiliation burns almost as hot as the need.
"It's the rescue bond," Austin explains gently, ever the medical professional. "When an Omega's saved from death by Alphas, especially multiple Alphas, there's often an intense bodily response. Your body wants to bond with your saviors as a survival mechanism."
Right…
Of course there's a term for it.
A reasoning for my inappropriate response has a clinical name.
But knowing why doesn't make it easier to sit here, surrounded by their scents and strength, my body singing submission songs I don't want to hear.
Luna breaks the tension by throwing her sippy cup at Cole's head with surprising accuracy.
Oops.
He catches it easily, raising an eyebrow at her.
"See?" he says, almost smiling. "Luna's the only one you need to worry about. She's got opinions and she's not afraid to enforce them."
It's enough to ease the moment, to let me sink back into the chair despite every instinct screaming.
They continue preparing dinner around me, careful not to crowd but never leaving me alone.
Their scents ebb and flow with their movement, a complex dance that makes my head spin and my core clench.
I'm grateful. I'm terrified.
I'm aroused beyond reason by men who saved my life and waited for me to come home. The Omega in me wants to thank them the way biology demands—on my knees, throat bared, offering everything.
The woman in me wants to run before I do something I'll regret.
But I stay.
Caught between gratitude and desire, confusion and clarity, the past that brought me here and the future that stretches ahead unknowable.
I stay because Grandpa trusted them.
Because Luna keeps reaching for me like I belong.
Because… despite everything, this kitchen full of patient Alphas feels safer than anywhere I've been in years.
Even if that safety comes with a price my body seems all too willing to pay.