Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
LIAM
T he sterile scent of antiseptic claws at my throat, a harsh counterpoint to the metallic tang of blood that still hangs heavy in the air. It’s acrid, but underneath it all, a whisper of Kayla’s vanilla and jasmine lingers. And with it, the desire to claim her as my Omega.
Kayla’s hands are steady as she ties off the last stitch on Dane’s shoulder, but her eyes—those deep blue pools—are darting around like cornered prey. She’s spooked, and it’s written all over her in a script I know too well.
Our Intel says three Omegas went missing. And I’m willing to bet she knows at least one of them.
“‘K, Nurse Kayla,” I say, hoping to crack that tension before it shatters her, “You’ve officially survived your trial by fire. Or should I say, trial by bullet?”
Dane grunts, his medic instincts kicking in despite his pain, giving her an appreciative nod.
She manages a weak smile, but there’s tension in the corners of her eyes.
“Where do I put this stuff?” She holds up Dane’s bloody shirt and the used medic supplies.
“Trash is in the cabinet there.” I nod to the area. “And I’ll show you the laundry room.”
Kayla throws away the items, then washes her hands.
“You saved Dane’s sorry ass tonight.”
“Hey, I resent that,” Dane shoots back with a pained grin, easing himself off the chair. “Just for that, I’m not offering you a beer.” He pulls one from the fridge and pops the cap off.
“Fuck you, asshole, I’ll get my own damn beer.”
There’s a soft smile on Kayla’s lips that has my heart thumping wildly against my rib cage.
We may be strangers, but I can’t shake the primal urge to protect her.
“Follow me to the laundry room.” I bow slightly, and Dane chuckles.
There’s a pink tint to Kayla’s cheeks. When we leave the kitchen, I look over my shoulder at Dane, winking, and he shoots me the finger.
“Right this way, gorgeous,” I say, leading her through the sprawling mansion. The tension in Kayla’s shoulders is a visible thing, like a cloak she can’t shake off. I want to tell her it’s okay, that she’s safe here, but words feel too damn cheap for what she’s been through.
As jumpy as she’s been since she woke up after the bus accident and despite her snark, I know there’s more to her past than just Omega Institute and etiquette lessons.
The laundry room is bigger than most people’s apartments, and she gasps when we walk inside. I toss a crooked smile as I lean against one of the dryers.
“Talk about overkill, right? But hey, an Alpha’s gotta have clean clothes, especially after a dust-up like tonight.”
She stands in the doorway, clutching Dane’s bloodied shirt, her dark blue eyes wide, trying to process everything.
“Here.” I take the shirt from her, adding detergent. “Just toss it in.” I start the machine.
“How many washing machines and dryers do you need?”
I can’t help but chuckle at her reaction. “What, you think it’s overkill? Trust me, when you’re an Alpha who gets into as many scrapes as I do, you can never have too many machines.”
My gaze drifts over the top-of-the-line appliances, and I feel a swell of pride. This luxury is a far cry from the youth shelter days of fighting over the single, rickety washer and dryer. Those crappy machines were always breaking down, leaving us to hand wash our clothes in the bathroom sinks when we were lucky enough to have soap.
Having amenities like this, no longer having to scramble and ration, is a privilege I don’t take for granted. Maybe Ryker was right, and I go a bit overboard compensating for those lean years, but can you blame a guy for wanting plenty of spare machines to handle emergencies and not having to wear dirty clothes?
“Don’t knock it until you try it.” I shoot Kayla a wink. “I think everyone with more than two people living in a house needs their own industrial-sized laundromat.”
A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, but she schools her features like she’s holding back laughing, though I don’t know why.
“Thankfully, Ryker has enough cash to buy a house full of these things. And he did it when he heard my sob story of having to walk a mile to the laundry mat only to find out I didn’t have enough money to dry my clothes.”
“That was thoughtful of him.” She looks away, and I change the subject, knowing it makes some people uncomfortable, and that’s the last thing I want to do with Kayla.
“Did the Omega Institute teach you how to dig out bullets? ‘Cause you handled that like a pro.”
She leans back against the vibrating machine, pressing her palms against the surface.
“No. Honestly, I didn’t think I could do it, but I wanted to try. Wanted to be helpful. Especially since he saved me from getting shot.”
I step closer, watching the tremor in her fingers, seeing the way her breath comes too fast. She’s strong, so damn strong, but everyone has their limits. My chest tightens, protective instincts flaring up like wildfire.
“Look, I know what it’s like to be thrown into a fire and tossed a can of gasoline,” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. “When I was younger, I went through some tough times. The kind that makes you question if you can ever trust anyone again.” Her gaze is locked on me, attentive. “I had to learn to survive. My foster parents got off on beating the shit out of me daily like I was some modern-day whipping boy.
“Sometimes, I still wake up thinking I’m back in those days, fighting for every scrap of peace, every piece of food. Until I fought back and gave my foster father a ride to the hospital. I took off after that, taking care of myself on the streets, working whatever I could to buy my way until Dane and I got in a brawl outside a bar. When I held my own up against him, he offered me a job to work as a bounty hunter with him.”
Kayla’s lips part slightly, and I can tell she’s holding back a sea of her memories. It’s the look of someone who’s been dragged through the mud. A look that, damn it, hits a little too close to home and one I used to see in the mirror every fucking day.
But I won’t force her to open up. Not yet, anyway. I want her to feel safe, to want to talk with me about whatever she’s holding back.
“So, you helped design the laundry room. Did you do the kitchen, too? There are gadgets in there that I’ve no idea what they are.”
“Nope, all that’s Dane’s lair. Cooking isn’t exactly my forte. Though, I can whip up a mean protein shake if you’re desperate.”
A ghost of a smile plays on her lips. “Desperate measures for desperate times, huh?”
“Exactly.” We stand in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the rhythmic thrum of the washer. “Look,” I begin, choosing my words carefully, “I know being tossed into a new situation can be… fucked up.”
She nods curtly, her gaze fixed on the spinning laundry.
“If you want to ever share anything, I’m here to listen. Nothing else, no judgment.”
Her lower lip, a soft pink against the white of her skin, gets caught between her teeth. She chews on it, a silent battle raging behind those blue eyes.
“My dad passed away from cancer when I was just a kid. Mom remarried, and...” She hesitates, a shadow passing over her face.
My gut clenches. No Omega deserves that.
“Reading and hanging out with my friends became my escape,” she continues, a wistful note creeping into her voice.
What she’s not saying is fucking huge, but I can read the silence. Had enough in my past to fill a damn encyclopedia of abuse. I want more than anything to pull her into a hug. Not paw her, just comfort, but it’s too soon, and she doesn’t know me from a random dude on the street.
“Yeah…” I trail off, not wanting to taint this moment with too much darkness, but I need her to know she’s not alone, that we both have ghosts haunting us.
She gives me a small, almost imperceptible nod. When I reach for her hand, a tremor shoots through her body, a flinch so sharp, it feels like a blow, and it guts me that she is so vulnerable.
Who hurt her so badly that she reacts like this? Rage simmers in my veins, and I want to track down the bastard and put him in the hospital just like I did my foster dad.
When I drop my hand and take a step back, relief washes over her features. I clench my fists, holding back the anger, but I don’t want Kayla to think I’m upset with her.
“Hey, I’ll switch over the laundry when it’s done. Why don’t you take a tour of the place? I’ll come find you when the food gets here. Should be about half an hour.”
“Sounds good. I’ll let you know if I discover any skeletons in your closets.” A lopsided grin tugs at her lips, and she heads out.
I lean against one of the dryers.
“Kayla,” I call out, my voice husky sounding.
She pauses in the hallway, facing me.
“You don’t have to fight alone anymore.”