Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Saylor
W hen I was younger, I used to make up elaborate daydreams about going on big adventures. Other times, I’d create alternate universes where my mom didn’t die. I’d spend hours living in a world where she was still alive.
I’m a pro at maladaptive daydreaming. I’ve never been able to tell if that ability comes from the ADHD or the autism side of my AuDHD diagnosis. Either way, if I’m not careful, I’ll shut down completely.
My stress is at an all-time high. Usually, I can make it through any given crisis without having a breakdown, mostly because my system likes to go numb when I get too stressed. It’s always afterward that the panic and meltdowns hit.
I can’t decide if that man was trying to give me a clue…like maybe he did reach out to my family.
God.
I don’t know what to think.
Omen drops the reusable shopping bag on the bin he brought in earlier and moves to organize the food trays.
The table is meant to be a two-person setup, but I don’t mind.
I’ll sit on one of the gaming chairs, even if I won’t be able to use the table.
I spin around and duck under the loft of Valor’s bed to grab the chair. When I turn back to the room, Valor is exiting the bathroom with only a small towel on.
“You took my clothes,” he mutters to Omen.
No matter how hard I try to force myself to move or look away, I seem to be frozen in place.
Valor has a hand wrapped around the edges of the towel that he holds together at his hip, but his chest, abs, and entire left leg all show. There are so many lines of well-defined muscle that I almost don’t know what to do with my eyes.
Nowhere is safe to look.
Not that I should be staring.
If our roles were reversed, I’d be uncomfortable with someone ogling me when I was only in a tiny, little, baby towel.
My head tilts as I try to determine if the towel is miniature-sized or if Valor just makes it seem ridiculously small.
It’s probably the latter.
The way my cheeks burn tells me I’ve been looking for too long, but I saw a lot when I popped into the bathroom to pee. Those sexy muscles on the sides of his ass as he turned into the stream of water will haunt me for a long time.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, ducking under the edge of the loft and dragging the chair to the long side of the table.
Valor grunts.
I’m not an expert in caveman, but I think it’s an acknowledgment. Maybe he even accepts my apology for looking at him like he’s a perfectly cooked steak while I’m about to die of starvation.
Omen continues checking the food. It’s served on what reminds me of the plastic lunch trays they used at my high school back in the States, but they’re topped with a brown takeout container that seems much more eco-friendly than Styrofoam. Next to that is plastic silverware, a box of something that might be a beverage, and a small cup with a lid. Just beside that is a small packet of salad dressing.
Omen chuckles, and my line of sight moves to him.
Valor’s reflection shows perfectly in the glass as he pulls a pair of sweatpants up his thick thighs.
I swallow.
Okay, so I caught a quick look in the bathroom, but holy shit.
It wasn’t the water distorting the image.
His dick is intimidating as hell.
“Hungry, pet?” Omen taunts, running his fingers under my lower lip. “I believe you’re drooling.”
I smack his hand away and settle into the chair on the floor.
The table isn’t particularly high, but my eyes barely meet the top of it. There’s no way I’ll be able to eat from the table with them. I’ll have to balance my food on my lap.
“Someone is pouty when she’s called out on her lady-perving.” Omen holds a hand to his mouth, like he’s whispering the information to some non-existent third party. He slides around the table and just behind my chair before squatting and pulling my hair to the side with his cold hands.
It’s been chilly in the facility since I got here, but last night was significantly worse.
I’m not sure if tonight will be as bad, or maybe they purposely keep the omega wing colder than the alpha side for the exact purpose Valor mentioned earlier. If the omegas are too cold to comfortably sleep, it’s only a matter of time before they seek out someone to cuddle with for body warmth.
Omen leans around the chair, getting very close to my ear. “Just putting it out there—you’ve got blanket permission to eye fuck me anytime you’d like.” His accent rolls through his words, and I can’t be sure if it’s his warm breath on my neck or how sexy he sounds when he speaks that makes me shiver. “Why don’t you take my seat? It’s not proper for a lady to be forced to eat practically on the floor.”
“Sit down,” Valor growls, appearing at my other side. He nods for Omen to take the chair farthest from the door and pulls the other out.
Before I know what’s coming, Valor scoops me up from the lounger, sits, and plants me on his knee.
I’m impressed the metal chair can even hold our combined weight. Ever since I was little, people have guessed that I weigh a lot less than I do. It’s a combination of being tall and having a slender face, but I know I’m not light.
Valor is pure muscle, and, together, I’m sure we weigh a lot.
“I’m right-handed.” The massive alpha reaches around me to grab the other tray and pulls it closer. “You’re left-handed—based on the way you tended my wounds. You stay on your side. I’ll stay on mine, then no one has to sit on the dirty floor.”
It’s not technically the floor, but I appreciate the sentiment.
Omen’s eyes meet mine, and they sparkle as his lips tip up. “Our first meal as a happy family. How about that?” Dimples appear in his scruff, and it’s hard to think with how handsome he is.
Not to mention being surrounded by both of their scents.
That guy said the fastest way out of here might be with a bond. Now that they’ve flushed my suppressants, I have no idea how long I’ll even be able to hold out before going into heat.
Alphas and omegas who ride out a heat together almost always end up bonded.
My heart races as my pulse picks up.
What exactly would happen if I went into heat while trapped in here with Omen and Valor?
“Eat,” the grouchy alpha says, bumping his chest against my back.
Shaking my head, I grab the tray and work on getting the container open. I need something else to focus on and fast.
* * *
I’ve never sat on someone’s lap for a meal.
It’s nice and kinda intimate.
It’s more comfortable than sitting on the hard metal chair, and Valor plants his hand around my middle as I lean back against his chest once I’m finished eating.
I’m not sure what they served us, but it wasn’t bad. It was some kind of meatball in brown gravy with mashed potatoes and steamed veggies. It wasn’t nearly as awful as what I imagine food is like in a jail or institution in the US.
“Done?” Omen asks, standing.
I nod.
He grabs both of our trays and takes them to the trash can by the door before dumping them. I can’t see him since he’s behind us, but it sounds like he stacks them up on the small bookcase by the door. Once he’s done, he returns, this time snagging Valor’s tray.
“You seemed to enjoy what they served,” Valor says, soothing his large hand over my stomach.
“If it was something gross…” I laugh. “Please don’t tell me.”
“Beef and pork meatballs, if I had to guess,” Omen says, coming back to the table and taking a seat. “You two look cozy. I wish they hadn’t confiscated my mobile. I would have snapped a picture of the two of you.”
Valor’s hand leaves my stomach, and he flips off his packmate.
“What do you normally do to pass the time until bed?” I ask, and my face heats.
They’re bonded. I imagine they pass the time in all sorts of intimate ways. The bed situation confuses me a little because Omen specifically pointed out which loft they each sleep in.
Then again, the lofts have to be full- or queen-size. It’s hard to tell exactly since I haven’t been inside either loft area. Maybe Valor is simply too big for them to comfortably share a bed…
Which leads to the realization—I have no idea where I’m supposed to sleep tonight.
“We play cards, checkers, or occasionally chess,” Omen says, drawing my attention. “Other times, we exercise and leave each other alone. It’s hard not to get on the other person’s last nerve when we’re constantly right on top of each other.” Spinning in his chair, he grabs the reusable shopping bag that came with the food. “Let’s see what your friend gifted you.” He drops the container onto the table, but I’m more focused on what he said when we first got in.
I vaguely remember him mentioning the bin behind the table was filled with what he called courting gifts. My system lights up at the thought of goodies meant for me. It’s a ridiculous reaction, but omegas spend our entire lives waiting to be courted.
My mom used to tell me stories of how romantic my dad was. He asked her on a date every Friday night for two months. Each outing was something new and had a theme they followed.
The way she described it made it all seem so magical. I’m older now, and I understand how the world works a little better, but courting still seems special.
Omen reaches into the bag and pulls out a white plastic first aid kit. “And to think, I risked being locked out to stop by the stockroom to make sure we had necessities for you.”
My head tilts, and I give him what hopefully comes off as an appreciative smile. “That means a lot. Thank you.”
Valor pats my stomach while Omen simply focuses back on the bag.
“We can leave these in here for now, but there’s bottled water and several types of juice.” He shrugs. “Candy to combat the cravings for sweets both before and after your heat.” Pulling his hand free, he drops a bunch of chocolate bars and other sugar-filled treats.
The next item is wrapped in plastic with all the air sucked out of it.
It looks like a vacuum-sealed blanket.
Valor snatches it and begins to rip it open.
“There’s also this list of instructions about how to care for an omega,” Omen says, dropping a paper onto the table. “And this device, which we’re supposed to stick on the door handle if you spike a fever over 112. Although it highly recommends knotting as a first resort.” He chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows. “My gift is so much better.”
Valor drops the plastic on the floor and shakes out the blanket. It falls over my lap and down my legs. My arms end up pinned under it, but he wraps his arms over the comforter, and a strange feeling of contentment radiates in my chest.
I wiggle around, and it makes his scent burst in the air, which only makes my instincts happier. It’s a known fact that omegas like to be restrained, either by their alphas or, in some cases, with ropes or other devices. That’s a bit more than I think I’d be comfortable with, but I’ve just decided that I’d be fine being restrained by another person.
The way Valor has me currently trapped in place is giving my system a feeling of safety that I didn’t think could be achieved in this awful place.
“Fuck, I wish I had my camera.” Omen winks, shoving himself out of his chair. He grabs the bin he carried in earlier and moves it next to his chair before clearing the table of the reusable bag and its contents. “My options were limited, just remember that.”
Valor’s hand sneaks under the blanket and between my arm and my stomach. He plants his palm on my middle once more, and his thumb soothes up and down. “You smell a lot better when you’re not stressed.”
My teeth dig into my lower lip to keep from laughing.
That was a very man-like thing to say, but I also haven’t showered in I’m not sure how many days.
That brings up thoughts of wondering what they did to me while I was unconscious. What’s happened to me since being released into the cell block isn’t half as scary as the unknown of before I woke up.
Omen pulls the lid off the bin and takes out a first aid kit exactly like the one that was delivered with our food. “It has a thermometer, ice packs, fever reducers, earplugs, an eye mask for when you’re sensitive to light, scent-blocking soap, and stuff for after your heat. All that woman stuff. Period sticks and diapers and whatnot.”
I snort. “Wow, thanks.” I refuse to even acknowledge him calling pads diapers . “You haven’t opened it. How do you know what’s inside?”
He shrugs. “You get real bored in here. I’ve been through all the supplies in the storage rooms. They don’t bar us access to anything except our freedom.”
“And a television,” Valor rumbles. “I’m not sure how that could speed up the decay, and it’s the one thing that would help pass the time a little faster.”
My chest gets tight.
That sounds awful.
I can’t imagine what it would be like to know you can’t trust your own mind.
He’s so warm and comfortable behind me.
My nostrils flare as I breathe in his electric scent. His smell deeply affects my system, and it tries to convince me that I’m safe, despite the fact I know I’m truly not.
Well, I’m probably safe in here with Omen and Valor.
At the very least, I’m as protected as I’m going to get in this place.
“That was a very thoughtful thing to grab.” I smile, hoping Omen can sense that my words are true.
“Next up”—he reaches into the container once more—“we have lip balm, scentless lotion, and deodorant. I also grabbed you mini bottles of body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. Don’t get too excited. They all smell exactly the same, but I usually don’t bother with conditioner.”
“Thank you, that’s amazing. I haven’t had a shower…” I swallow thickly, trying not to stress about the lost time. “I’m actually not sure how long it’s been. Do you know what day it is?”
“They don’t tell us that,” Valor says, still teasing his thumb over my T-shirt—that actually belongs to him.
“Time is mostly irrelevant in here.” Omen moves to collect more items from the bin. “Not much left, but I did find these.” He pulls out a stack of clothes with several pairs of socks on top. He drops them back into the bin. “You really don’t need that if you’re comfortable in our clothes. However, I found a pair of women’s shoes.” He lifts them out, and they’re plain white sneakers. “They’re for next time they let us out of the cell. I had to guess. I went with a nine. They only had a few pairs left.”
“Those are perfect. I feel like a broken record, but thank you so much.”
“And last but not least.” He tugs another vacuum-sealed bag from the bin. It sounds like all the rest of the stuff tumbles off and falls haphazardly at the bottom. “A brand-new pillow.” Valor takes it from Omen, and the beta begins loading everything into the container. “Since you don’t have a dresser, I thought you could keep your things in here for now.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
To me, it feels pretty monumental.
They’ve gone out of their way to make me feel welcome. More than that, they’ve kept me safe.
The gifts to help me have a few things in here that remind me of home… That’s above and beyond.
Carefully extracting myself from under the blanket, I stand from Valor’s lap and move around the table while Omen is still packing up the stuff.
He finishes, standing to his full height and wiping his hands off on his pants.
I don’t let myself think it through before wrapping my arms around his slender waist. “I appreciate it so much. Thank you, Omen.” His head tilts, and he pats my back almost awkwardly. “You smell really good,” I say, rubbing my face around his T-shirt. “Seriously delicious.”
My nose ends up buried between his arm and the side of his chest, but I have the irrational urge to lift up on my tiptoes to bury my nose in his throat.
Or his armpit.
Either would have a potent hit of his pheromones.
“Did you want me to hold a towel up so you can shower?” he asks, sliding his hand down to pinch my ass. “Just saying, my offer still stands.”
I squeak, stumbling backward.
“There’s no heat in the showers in the cells,” Valor says. “If you’re going to go that route, it’s best to do it during the day so your pillow doesn’t get sour. Omen, grab the cards. We can play a few hands before bed.”