7. Merle
Merle
I’m alive.
I lay still, too scared to twitch even a finger, frozen, my heart racing, tears prickling my eyes. Where am I? I was outside, I was in the forest. Why am I in a room, in a bed? Who is going to hurt me now?
My breathing comes harder and faster until I’m gasping, and I can’t…
I just can’t get any air. Worse, I’m aware I’m making so much noise, whoever has me will hear me.
I press a hand to my mouth, trying to smother the sounds.
Spots dance in front of my eyes and then cloud my vision, which shoves me even deeper into my panic.
“Breathe.”
I don’t hear him speak the first time, nor the second or third.
I’m not sure when I become aware of his smoky tones, of his calm confidence.
His hands are holding my wrists, not in a way that hurts, but as if he’s restraining me.
My shoulders burn, and I realise I’ve been clawing at my skin. I didn’t even notice.
“Merle, you need to breathe. Match mine. Ready, inhale, exhale.”
How do you know my name? I want to sob in between desperate sucks of air, just curl up and cry. I’m so tired. Where am I? Why aren’t I dead?
“We can figure everything out in a minute. I will explain. You can ask me whatever you want to know, but let’s just get you breathing first. Know that you are safe. No one here will hurt you. No one will lay a finger on you. I give you my word.”
Why? Why? It makes no sense. Who is he?
My breathing gradually calms, and I pull my hands free, sitting up and inching away, angling my body so there’s space between us. I still haven’t looked at him, but it takes me a long time to gather my courage.
As soon as I lay eyes on him, the only thought I have is that he is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. He has face tattoos, rings on all his fingers, dark eyes that stare at me with a haunting quality that says he’s seen this before, and he will protect me.
Who are you? My question must be on my face because he half smiles and answers as if I’ve asked it out loud.
“Daega O’Connell or Pix, everyone calls me Pix. I like photos, it’s a hobby.” He shrugs his shoulders, dismissing himself like he’s trying to appear less.
Are you a rock star? I look at his leather jacket, the rings, and then his tattoos. While he’s still processing, I glance quickly around the room. One door. No windows. There’s no weapons, just a plastic bottle of water beside the bed on a wooden side table. I reach for it, then pause.
What if it’s drugged?
“I’m not a celebrity. I’m just a guy.” He reaches for the water, twists the cap so it breaks loudly, then drinks some water before handing it to me.
I take it knowing I absolutely shouldn’t, but I’m so thirsty that I take a sip before forcing myself to stop.
He’s very relaxed, sitting easily on the side of the bed, watching me dispassionately. I get the impression that he doesn’t like me very much. That’s okay. No one really does.
I slide out of the bed on the other side, putting even more distance between us. Scanning the room and finding nothing. Who has rooms this empty? Why are they so empty?
My panic starts returning, building back up like a flooded river.
Where are the windows? Where am I? Who has me?
“We’re underground,” the strange male says. “It’s not a prison or anything bad, just a house with a basement.”
I walk past him to the door, half expecting him to stop me. He doesn’t. His scent hits me, has me stumbling, whirling around, eyes wide.
He’s an omega.
That means there will be alphas, right?
I yank open the door and slide out, not quite running but moving quickly. The water bottle is tight in my hands. The sweat from my panic attack has dried, and I’m cold in these white cotton pajamas I’ve been placed in. Where are my shoes? It will be hard to survive without shoes.
My whole body is shaking, and I feel like I’m outside of it, watching it from a distance. I’m breathing in ragged gasps again, too loudly.
Everything is wrong. Is this some science experiment? Am I in an underground laboratory or a weird fighting simulator?
My head aches, and my scent fills the air, acrid, bitter.
I hear voices, so many, overlapping, screaming.
I bolt and run straight into the kitchen. It’s just so out of place for my mental picture that I stop, staring in confusion. There are people coming this way, males laughing. I shove myself into a cupboard and pull the door closed; it barely latches.
“Go away.”
“Excuse fucking you?”
“Go away, Rolly, and take Roseland with you. Tell Blaze to go find Pix.”
I hunch deeper.
He comes into the kitchen and moves around almost silently. I shift my weight, but I can’t breathe properly. The cupboard is constricting my torso too much. I open my mouth wider, trying to get more air.
Sweat beads on my temple, and I stop hearing him. I see black spots as I push, trying to free myself, but I can’t.
I listen hard, but there’s nothing.
I suck in air and try to shove at the cupboard, but I can’t get it from this angle.
I let out a mewl of sound as I gasp. My lungs are burning. I can’t breathe.
The cupboard door is ripped open, and his huge, massive hand wraps around my ankle and yanks me out.
Air drags into my lungs with a guttural groan. My back arches as my eyes roll.
His hand slides up my sternum and spreads over the place where my heart lives. I wonder if he can feel it thundering. I wonder what a lifetime of fear does to a heart like mine. How many years have I lost?
He’s got silver hair, this alpha, and piercing green eyes. This alpha doesn’t look like a bad alpha. He looks like an angel. But then, all the bad people didn’t look bad until they were doing things that made my nightmares look like a refuge.
“Omega, breathe.”
I’m forced to obey, though I want to fight the command, but no omega could.
“Again.”
My body obeys before my mind does.
“Again.”
He keeps me breathing until the adrenaline dump has worn off, and I’m lying on the cool kitchen floor shaking like a leaf.
This strange alpha scoops me up and sets me on the bench, where I slump sideways. Only his arm around my shoulder keeps me upright. He stays there until I have my balance. Exhaustion hits me like a wave, and my eyelids droop.
“Don’t move.”
I couldn’t even if I wanted to. There is nothing left. My chin drops, and I wrap my arms around myself and shake.
Another alpha explodes into the room, the movement has me shrieking and almost flying backwards off the counter.
He slows, sees me shaking, and pulls off his jacket.
It’s thick and black and looks like it would dwarf me.
His eyes are the most intense shade of sapphire I have ever seen.
But it’s the golden skin and hair that have me speechless.
I’ve never seen anyone like him. His movements slow but don’t stop.
“Rolly,” the silver-haired alpha growls.
He ignores him, and when he gets to me, he wraps the jacket around me. No words, no sympathy, nothing but deep concern and the scent of amber and clove. I stare at him, feeling used and broken and so very tired.
This is my scent match.
I have scent matches?
The thought is too much. I just can’t.
The angel returns. “My name is Sage, by the way. I didn’t mention it, and this is Rolly.”
He smells of sage and nutmeg. It’s nice. Calming. Soothing. I press my lips together. They already know my name; I’m sure of it.
He pushes a large plastic cup into my hand.
“Chocolate milk with vitamins, nothing sinister.”
I hesitate. He will just command me anyway, I concede with resignation, I drain the cup and wait for the inevitable side effects of the drugs he’s slipped into it.
He plucks the cup from my hands and gives me a muffin. It’s massive and all chocolate, and it’s warm.
I stare at it.
When was the last time I had a muffin?
“Daega! Where are you now?”
I flinch, but Rolly moves in front of me. The light glints off his golden hair, making it shine. If one is an angel, the other is a knight.
The one thing they could never destroy about me was my ridiculous imagination. These alphas will destroy me, and here I am daydreaming about being rescued by knights and angels. Inside, I’m laughing, coldly, cynically.
Another alpha walks into the kitchen but stops short when he sees me.
“Merle!”
I cringe, getting smaller and smaller. I know him. His scent of roses and sandalwood is unmistakable and, again, mine. The alpha hero, I’ve seen him in newspapers, I’ve seen him come to my world and walk with a golden glow on him.
Why are they all together? Is this another trap?
He comes closer, but I slide off the counter and circle it, glancing at the doorway that isn’t blocked by alphas.
“Merle, wait!”
I ignore him, dashing in that direction, only to be brought up by the biggest, most muscled alpha I’ve ever seen in my life.
He looks as if he could break me with one hand.
But…his hair is blue. It’s the weirdest thing to notice about him, but it steals all my attention from his scars and the brutal force of him.
He smells like wintergreen and rubbing alcohol.
A warrior.
The others move towards me, but I dash past him and then stop again, my feet absolutely going out from under me.
The alpha catches me as my knees buckle.
“Merle Kestrel, no one is going to hurt you in my house. There are rules.” He says it with absolute conviction.
I blink as I stare up at him. He looks exactly like he did the last time I saw him. Except for the strange black robe billowing around him. His hair jet black and long, his smile serene, and his eyes looked delighted.
This is the ghost. The one who did all the killing a year ago. He never saw me, but I saw him. Dancing as he dealt death. Killing everyone but the true evil who escaped.
My vision gets red and black dots, and I wonder if I’m going to pass out.
Who are these people?
I lick my lips and grip the alpha that is holding me hard, holding his wrist.
“King. It would seem that you and Pix are going to have the pleasure of ensuring that Merle gets used to our surroundings. Show her to her room and the bathroom. When she is cleaned up and feels more herself, she can come out, if she chooses, and eat or explore the house.”
Sage brushes past us and puts the muffin back in my hand.
“Off you go, King. Go and make sure she’s taken care of.”
“I don’t know how to take care of an omega,” King bursts out.
I peer up at him, seeing the panic on his face and, in a way, that soothes my own. He’s so worried about looking after me I actually, for the first time, believe that he’s not going to hurt me.
“Just be mean and make sure no one can get to her until she feels less like she’s going to jump out of a window to get away,” the knight says helpfully.
King shakes his head and mouths something I can’t understand.
“Off you go, I will send in Daega,” Sage says with a wink.
They don’t try to touch me. They don’t ask questions.
I don’t trust it.
The two alphas in front of us turn and disappear. When I glance back, the two behind us have disappeared, too.
“Come on, Omega.”
There are alphas everywhere. There’s no escape. I struggle not to pant as my hands shake.
This one feels safe, though. I don’t know why. He has blue hair. That seems to make him less dangerous, I don’t know why. I’ve shoved the knowledge about the ghost deep, refusing to think about it.
He didn’t kill anyone who didn’t deserve it, a whisper in my mind says. He only killed the people hurting everyone.
He leads me back through the house in silence before leading me into the room that smells like me. The blanket on the bed is still mussed and the iris and tonka bean smell I normally hide under suppressant patches has leached into every part of the room.
King squeezes past me while I’m still frozen in the doorway and goes to the wall. He points at a gold decoration and presses it. I flinch when a door opens, sliding back and revealing a luxurious bathroom.
He points to his chest and to the door. “Outside.”
His eyes widen slightly, and I see that they are a blue-green that appear deep and somber. The panic has returned, and with a groan, he spins on his heel, almost bumping into the wall, before tucking his shoulders and rushing out of the room.
His obvious retreat dims my panic. That was almost endearing. Wait, no. These alphas can’t be trusted.
I close the door quickly and take several steps back, straining my ears to hear any sound of them.
There’s nothing.
With no choice left, I go into the bathroom, finding a bag of clothes that are all in my size. I choose a singlet and black leggings, but opt to keep the jacket the alpha gave me. Then I peel the pajamas off me and get into the shower, washing away…everything.
After a while, I stop moving, stop trying to wash myself. I just stand under the water and cry. My chest heaves, huge tears hide under the water’s spray, and I just melt down, until I’m so tired I can barely hold my head up.
I get out of the shower and move my stiffening body into the new clothes. I take one look at the bed and snatch the blanket and pillow off and slide under the massive frame.
I huddle on the floor, the cold seeping into my bones, watching the door and jerking awake in a panic with the realisation I’ve fallen asleep.
If they come…I don’t hear them, and they don’t disturb me.