Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Saylor
M y heart races, and I try to formulate a plan. The man who brought me to my room told me Valor would be one of the safer options, but he also said to avoid his bonded beta.
Omen .
It’s a hell of a name and possibly a warning rolled up into one.
Except, he purposefully followed you to stop those other men .
I’m still confused why Valor has a mask on. It’s black and seems to be some kind of thick plastic or rubber, covering from part of his nose and cheeks down to his chin. I only got a quick view of it, but horizontal slats line the mouth area, likely to make it possible to breathe.
The two alphas who followed me weren’t wearing masks.
Omen pulls me down the hallway toward the cafeteria, but I stop in my tracks. He doesn’t release my hand as he spins to face me.
Damn.
He might be a beta, but his energy screams alpha .
For my entire life, people have commented on my eyes, but his are breathtaking.
I’ve never seen that particular shade of light grayish green on a person. Our neighbor’s house cat? Yeah, she rocked eyes that color, but I’ve never seen a human being with eyes like his.
The man is covered in tattoos. Every inch of visible skin is bathed in ink, from the snarling wolf on the left side of his neck to the lotus flower on the front. The right side has an octopus with its tentacles extended up around his ear and even over his lower jaw.
His cheekbones are sharp, like you’d see on the cover of some men’s high fashion magazine.
There’s no doubt about it, Omen is handsome in that shocking way that very few men can pull off. It seems like he would fit in better with vampires and their ethereal beauty or some dark fae that stumbled into our realm accidentally.
The sides of his head are shaved, but the long whitish-blond hair from the top of his head falls over his forehead as he quirks a bushy eyebrow. “Changed your mind, little omega? Shall I return ya to your room? I’m sure you’d rather cry free of an audience.” His face twists into a mocking grin, but all I can seem to focus on is the way his thumb teases across my wrist.
“Why does Valor wear a mask?”
Omen chuckles, and it’s not a friendly sound. “All the alphas are required to wear them unless they’re in the cafeteria, the showers, or their private room. To hunt you down, the facility rules state they should have put their masks on. Imagine that, rabid alphas disregarding the rules. Shocking, isn’t it?”
My nostrils flare, and I find myself swaying toward his lithe chest.
There’s something about his scent that my system likes a little too much. It’s almost like aloe vera with a fresh rainy smell, but there’s an underlying something there too.
I don’t have words to describe it, and it’s so faint that I almost wonder if I’m imagining it, but my instincts scream to find more of that smell. The urge to climb him so I can bury my nose in his throat washes over me from nowhere.
“The omegas don’t wear masks?” I ask, clearly preoccupied.
“Omegas don’t form bonds when they bite.” He holds up his other wrist, and a set of deep canine bites mar his tattooed skin where his palm meets his forearm. “Alphas do. If you choose to shack up in an alpha’s room, where they’re permitted to remove the mask…” He shrugs. “Well, that’s on you.”
My mind races.
That does make sense.
The facility wants the rabid alphas brought back from the fog, but I still know almost nothing about this place.
“Is this a prison?”
“No,” Omen says, laughing. “This is where a few different governments and various illegal operations dump assets they want back.”
That jogs the memory of the man who brought me to my room. He said something similar. Then again, he also promised to notify my family of where I am, and I’m still not sure if he was lying to get me to shut up.
“Bonding an omega can bring back a rabid alpha. Once they regain that mental clarity, they can be put back to work.” The beta takes a step toward me, and I instinctually move back. My ass hits the concrete wall behind me, and Omen moves closer, never releasing my hand. “I’ve often wondered, how much do they pay you to sign your life away?”
My eyes widen.
“Are you kidding?” I hiss, slamming my palm into his chest as I try to shake my other hand out of his grip. “I didn’t sign anything. I was kidnapped! Plucked right off the street in front of my hotel.”
His brilliant gray-green eyes study my face, almost like he’s deciding if he believes me.
“Hmm,” he finally says in an obnoxious tone. “Well, then, allow me to escort you back to your room. You’re not what we’re looking for.”
My jaw falls. “No way. You don’t get to make that call.”
“I know what my partner will or won’t be interested in. I don’t see any benefit in wasting my time.”
“You’re a total asshole.”
“I’ve heard much worse than that, pet.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t make the reality of the situation any different, I’m afraid.”
“It does. I’m not taking no for an answer. I intend to make a deal with your alpha. Your approval isn’t needed.” I huff, rip my hand away, and take off in the direction I assume the cafeteria is located.
What’s that old saying?
Fake it until you make it.
I guess that’s where I am in life.
* * *
The cafeteria is eerily quiet by the time Omen and I make it back to the spacious room. The tables remind me of the ones we had at my high school, with circular attached seats.
Various groups sit in clusters, picking at their food while others stand about, talking among themselves.
My heart races when I spot Maggie. She pushes herself out of her seat but doesn’t make any move toward me.
Omen’s arm wraps around my neck, and his hand dangles down my front. He wiggles his fingers until I interlock mine in his.
It feels a lot like a lifeline, with all the heads swiveling to stare straight at us.
He chuckles darkly. “Maggie, I hate to say it, but frankly…you’re bloody terrible at keeping track of your things.”
She bristles, but again, doesn’t make a move to rescue me.
Not that I want to be saved.
Valor sits at one of the circular tables with a massive, tattooed hand covering his right eye. The back of that hand has a black skull with a smoky design that goes down the tops of his fingers. Much like Omen, he also has a tattoo covering the front of his neck, but his is a grim reaper. The tendrils of smoke wrap back around his neck and up to his jaw.
He doesn’t look pleased to see me.
Or maybe he’s not fond of seeing his bonded mate with his arm dangling between your tits?
The massive alpha shoves himself up from his seat and stomps closer, still blocking his eye from view. His eyebrow is busted, and his nose has a gash across the bridge that makes me grimace.
His scowl is so intense that I attempt to back up.
Omen bumps me with his chest, keeping me from retreating. “Remember, pet, you wanted this.”
Valor, who I have yet to be introduced to, comes to a stop directly in front of me.
I’m not short for a woman.
Five-nine is a decent height, but the rabid alpha towers over me in a way that makes me squirm. Only, Omen is still immediately behind me, and I end up grinding my ass against his thighs.
Clearing my throat, I refocus on my best hope of surviving this hellhole. “Thank you for saving me. Are you okay?”
Omen snorts, his chest shaking against my back. “Should I fetch you a plaster? What do Americans call those?” He snaps with his free hand. “Band-Aids! Shall I find you one?”
Valor growls, tilting his head as he finally pulls his hand away from his face.
I frown.
He’s going to have a hell of a black eye.
“I’m sorry you were injured,” I say, holding out a hand. “Saylor. Um, that’s me. It’s my name. I’m not saying I’m a sailor.”
Wow…as smooth as ever .
God, I really am hopeless.
The massive alpha’s chest heaves, and his breathing echoes under the mask.
I’ve never had a thing for overly muscular guys, but where Omen is slender with lithe muscles, Valor is just a genuine freaking beast.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone as tall as he is, but if I could reach, I’d wipe away the trickle of blood that’s about to drip into his eye.
Valor leans closer, inhaling deeply.
A feral snarl escapes his lips, and I jolt.
Omen still doesn’t allow me to retreat. “Did you dispose of Vlad and Sergei?”
Valor grunts and brings his bloody hand to the bottom of my hair. He grabs a decent amount and bends, pulling it to his nose. That mask seems to make all of his sounds even louder, but I’m a little afraid to move, let alone to comment on his heavy breathing.
“He knows English,” Omen says, sounding amused. “He does seem dead set on doing his best caveman impression, though.”
My chest rises and falls in rapid pants as Valor’s dark eyes meet mine. Everything in me screams that it’s dangerous to have this alpha’s full attention focused on me .
He releases my hair and steps back. “You smell scared.”
I’m not an expert on accents, but I think I know enough to say that his is Scottish, while Omen’s accent is Irish.
The cafeteria is still dead silent, and it’s easy to feel everyone’s eyes on us.
My instincts hate it.
My system urges me to run and find somewhere safe to hide.
“You’re scared,” he repeats, the words running together with how thick his brogue is.
I nod, deciding being truthful is the best option. “I am, but not of you. Thank you for stopping those men.” Glancing over my shoulder at Omen, I give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You too. Thank you for following me.”
My stomach growls so loudly, it’s impossible to mistake the sound. I bring my free hand to rub against the empty feeling.
“You didn’t feed her?” Valor growls, but his eyes are focused over my shoulder.
“I was too busy rescuing her to worry about finding her a tray,” Omen says in his thick accent. “Why don’t we handle that? It looks like they’re about to lower the gates to wrap up service, and you could use some ice for that shiner.”
My heart races.
This is going much better than I expected.