10. Jacks
Chapter 10
M ine. This one is mine. Her tiny green friend is protective, so she can belong to them as well, but she is mine .
I knew something was up, the twitchy feeling of ants crawling over me–that itchy tickle–should have known something was going to happen. But this has been a very pleasant surprise. Not gonna lie, I was upset when I saw Gabe tangled up in a pink leash, ropes have always been more my thing than his–and the absurdity of it all. My body wouldn’t stop twitching, I could barely breathe through my fit of laughter, not even noticing the omega straddling his back until she fell, and then I couldn't breathe at all.
My body on autopilot, I stand and grab the lunch I made for Gabe out of the Jeep, she needs it more than him anyway. She needs more, but that’s all I have on hand and I need to feed her. She’s mine, and I need to take care of her, I just do. Marching around the front of the Jeep to avoid Xan and Leo, my body refuses to listen to reason as I bend to lift her off the ground, her scent is intoxicating, and now I know why I have been craving those damned cookies.
I bet she tastes even sweeter, but before we can get to the tasting I need to take care of her. Her small companion hisses at me again when I get close, so I pick it up first and hand it to her, that way it knows she’s safe. My omega in hand, and her lizard clawing its way up my arm, I need to get her inside. Her scent is making my head spin and I need to get her fed and into her nest for cuddles.
Mine.
Mine Mine MINE!
My mind screams out at me as I carry her towards the front door.
I just want to rub all over her bare skin. While I love her chocolate and peppermint scent–I want to lick her and see if she tastes like that too–I also need to make sure she smells like me. She is mine, and if my pack will kindly remove their heads from their collective asses, I will be happy to share. But for now they are all just standing around being useless–meanwhile our omega needs to be taken care of, so they’re on their own.
I hear Gabe’s voice calling out to me, demanding that I put down my omega and step away, but that’s not going to happen. She lets out a dismayed whine at his voice and I am sorely tempted to turn around and beat the shit out of my pack leader for upsetting her. Doesn’t she want me to take care of her, get her inside, away from other people?
There’s a tear running down her pink cheek when I look at her. She is so cuddly, and I just want to bundle her up in soft blankets and purr for her until she only feels relaxed and content. Shifting her closer to me, my arm under her shoulders, I pull her tighter against my chest and bring my hand closer to her face. I rub my thumb down her cheek, wiping away the tear so she’ll look at me.
“What’s wrong omega, I’ve got you, why the tears?” Her big blue eyes look up at me, wet, like she’s going to continue to leak and I have to strain to hear her whisper.
“Nobody knew…I've lived here for almost three years now, and none of my neighbors knew I was an omega. I can’t…now everybody's gonna know, and I…” more tears start down her face, her nose is turning red and I pull her closer still–rubbing my chin on the top of her head.
“It’s ok, little omega, we’ll take care of it, just rest.”
I say we’ll take care of it, but fuck me. I want to turn around and knock the living shit out of Gabe for not thinking earlier. Of course no one knew, it’s not safe for omegas to live alone. Stopping and repositioning her in my arms I get the storm door open, and her scent hits me hard.
She smelled delicious outside in the open air, but in her space, her home, it’s pure concentrated ambrosia, and I stagger as it fills my lungs, making my mouth water and my cock go stiff as a fucking lead pipe behind my button fly. I push the front door closed with my foot. I will lock it later, with my pack in the yard no one is coming in that way–and on the off chance they did make it in, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.
Looking around the entry, I take in her space. To one side there is a short hall with a bathroom and what looks like an office, then straight ahead is the living room with an open kitchen separated by a bar and a couple of stools. There is a closed door on the far side of the living room, and I am guessing it leads to her nest, and another in the kitchen that probably goes to the laundry or a garage. These tiny cookie cutter style houses are easy to navigate, they have a few plans that they rotate through, but it’s a cute little house, all her own, and I can see why she’s upset at the thought of leaving it.
Setting her down on the couch I pull a blanket over from where it’s draped over the arm. It smells strongly of her, so she must use it often. I wrap it around her shoulders and stand back, appraising my omega burrito. Then I take the lizard off my shoulder and set it on a cat tree near the bookcases lining one wall.
I sit down next to her on the couch, but her arms start to flail, undoing my work. I try to purr, but she won’t stop struggling, so I pull her into my lap, purring louder.
A muffled “Stop!” comes from the tangled bundle just below my chin, and I freeze, feeling like my strings have all been cut. “Stop! You're bleeding. I need to get the first aid kit.” My purr starts back up and I nuzzle against where I think her head is .
I’ll take care of my bleeding arms soon, they don’t hurt much, and I just want to enjoy a few more minutes of holding her before I have to get up and get her food. I look around for a clock, craning my neck. This has been a rollercoaster and surely hours have passed since I left the house. Nope, the microwave shows it has only been 45 minutes. Wow !
But, bonus, that means the sandwich I brought in is still edible…maybe a little flat, but there’s a banana in there too, she can have that while I cook something better.
I lift her off my lap, much to my body’s frustration, my insistent erection is still trapped in my now too tight pants and he is not a happy guy, but he’s not in charge. My omega is, and until she says otherwise he’s going to stay right where he is.
“Here, I brought you a sandwich. Do you like Roast Beef?” I open the bag, and sure enough, flat sandwich. Maybe I can pass it off as a panini. Does she have a panini press? I can add some toppings, get it nice and melty for her. This is a good plan, I like this plan.
She’s still trying to struggle free from the blanket, so I reach over and pull the top flap off from where I had her tucked in. Her messy bun is mostly out now and the long auburn waves are frizzing all around her shoulders, making her look like a dandelion. I reach out to gently untangle her scrunchie, and smooth down what I can while she tries to collect herself. I can’t help touching her, my fingers itch with the need to run over her skin, but this is the best I can do right now not to freak her out, so I'll take it.
“No well, yes, but you first, I need to clean up your arms. Infections are no laughing matter.” She looks so serious, and so fucking adorable with her pout and her poofy hair.
“Ok, Little Lion, let me get your first aid kit, where is it? Kitchen or bathroom?” I stand up–my knee popping–and put the flat sandwich back in the bag. We can do better than that. She tries to stand up, still tangled and face plants against my chest. “No, nope, nope…it’s in my bathroom, through my nest. I’ll get it. You sit down and take off your shirt.”
Her cheeks darken so quickly she looks like a cherry tomato. I’m not sure if the embarrassment is from the face plant, giving me orders, or the thought of me without a shirt, but I kind of hope for the last one.
I peel my ruined shirt over my head and, admittedly, flex a bit for her while I do it. She goes even redder, and I can’t help the grin that breaks out at her reaction, her jaw going slack when she sees my ink and pierced nipples–can’t wait to show her my tongue ring–or let her feel it. Xan likes it, so hopefully she will too.
Her head snaps up to my face, eyes wide as if she was caught doing something embarrassing–like ogling my naked chest. She turns and tries to run, but her feet are still tangled in the blanket and she starts to go down again. Wrapping my hands around her waist, I lift her out of the tangle of blanket and set her down on the other side, smiling unabashedly at how flushed she looks right now .
She draws back and I falter–I can look kind of manic when I smile, or at least, most people seem uncomfortable when I do. This smile feels more genuine, not like the fake face I have to put on for everyone else. I want to be around her, and it makes me happy.
She scampers off towards the door on the far side of the room.
Yup, nest, called it .
I head towards the kitchen to wash my hands and see if I can find a panini press, or just figure out what else I can cook for her.
Candice
I thought we were both doomed when Iggy wrapped her leash around the big growly one earlier, Gabe. He was spinning around, trying to get his phone out of his pants and unwrapped from her long leash when he tripped. He landed half on me, holding Iggy in one hand since she decided she liked his stubbly beard, and he seemed to be trying to protect her in the fall. I guess I’m lucky that I’m already padded, and he landed on his knees before he went over completely, face first onto my thigh. Being a bit squishy can be a good thing though, at least no one was seriously hurt.
By the time I wiggled out from under him, he had released Iggy, who was still leashed to him, and she had decided that his shoulder was her best option. I was sitting on his back, trying to untangle the cord, or at least get Iggy to move since one of his hands was still trapped under him, and then that Jeep showed up and things got even weirder.
Pressing my back against my bedroom door, I let out a deep breath. Ok, time to take stock. I have a giant alpha covered in tattoos, with his pierced eyebrow, and septum, and nipples–I feel like I should look closer at those, just for artistic purposes, of course–standing shirtless in my living room, and don’t think I missed the bulge in the front of his jeans. But those dimples when he smiled–fuck me, ok, yeah, so I’m a sucker for dimples–s hit.
But he’s only shirtless because I told him to be– I’m not sure if that is a positive or a negative. I have three more large attractive alphas in my front yard doing who knows what, negative column . They just loudly shouted out my designation, so now my neighbors will all know that I’m an omega living alone– definitely in the negative column .
I guess it says something that Iggy tried to defend me from them, even if she is small enough to be stomped on. But she's still a traitor, climbing all over strange alphas, demanding attention, and letting them pet her .
A tiny voice in the back of my mind suggests that this is not a bad thing, and they would probably not mind if I did the same thing.
No, bad omega. There will be no rubbing on strange alphas, no demanding of attention, and definitely no letting them pet me. Completely, one hundred percent negative column.
But is it really? Says the tiny omega voice again, and my alpha addled brain is having a hard time disagreeing with the little voice. But my logical mind is kicking me in the ass telling me to get a move on, get the first aid kit, and go patch up the stranger–who is doing god knows what in my living room right now.
The stranger with all the muscles…come on, one little lick won’t hurt.
Clearly, my inner omega is a slut, and we are not going to listen to her.
I hurry to the closet and get out my first aid kit. I use it for first aid but it started out as a tackle box that I bought for crafts–but then I realized I don’t craft often enough to need that much storage. But I am incredibly accident prone and it would work wonders for keeping bandages, tweezers, and other patching up stuff in one spot–and it glows in the dark because I am easily amused. It worked out well.
Hurrying back through my nest, I close the door behind me. I don’t mind if Iggy goes in there for snuggles, but I don't want to risk hurting her if I go into there to flop and burrow and she’s hiding. Glaring at her when I pass for her part in this. Her only reaction is to blink at me, and honestly, life is so crazy right now, I can’t even stay mad at her. Frustrated, yes, definitely, mad, no–speaking of frustration where is he? I know I left a big guy with a lot of skin showing right here next to the couch.
A loud crash comes from the kitchen and a colorful arm pops over the bar. “Hey, do you have a panini press in here? I can’t seem to find one.” This is the strangest conversation I’ve had in a while, and since that includes talk of hippopotamus dick, I really feel that’s saying something about where my life is right now.
Still carrying my tackle box/first aid kit, I walk around the bar to find the alpha sitting on my kitchen floor going through cabinets. When was the last time I dusted under there?
Shit .
God, but he looks good…like, all right there on display. Pale skin covered in a myriad of colors, but so well defined, long and lean, my fingers are all itchy and tingly, and they really just want to reach out and touch–to bandage him up, of course. The tiny voice is trying to hijack my thoughts again, but since we already know she is a slut, we’ve got to ignore that for now. “Hi, sorry, I don’t think I own a panini press. I’m not even sure what a panini is, or how to press it, sorry.”
A shaggy strip of caramel colored hair emerges out of the cabinet and over the countertop, hazel eyes crinkled at the corners in what I think is a smile, but could be plotting my demise for my lack of panini knowledge. I’m terrible at reading people. “Sorry, but, I got the first aid kit, if you can stand up and come back over to the couch, I can get your elbows patched up, sorry. Is that ok?”
Wait, how many sorries was that? Do I apologize habitually, or am I just stressed out?
Ok, stupid question, of course I’m stressed. But, yeah, I should probably stop apologizing. I sound like a broken record.
He unfolds himself from my kitchen floor and I have to tilt my head back to watch his face. Okay, yes that is definitely a smile, but he still might be plotting vengeance over the panini thing.
“Sorry, Little Lion.” He walks towards me, all sinuous grace, brushing his hand down my back when he circles behind me before sitting down on the couch. That should not feel as good as it does, and I have to shake myself before sitting down and focusing on his arms.
The blood has mostly stopped, but I still want to make sure there are no little chunks of road stuck in there, so I hold a clean towel up and upend the bottle of hydrogen peroxide over his elbow. I would be hissing and whining about it by now, but he is just staring at me with a goofy grin. It’s starting to make me nervous. I wait for the bubbling to stop, smear him with ointment, and dig out one of my big bandages to put over the area.
Maybe he senses my confusion, maybe he just wants to talk…I like the sound of his voice regardless, it just makes me feel…right, somehow. He mentions something about last night, and a lasagna, and cookies. But I’m having a hard time focusing. The last 24 hours have been crazy and stressful, and I should be freaking out with him so close, and my mind is. Sort of. But my body seems to think that all is right with the world, and that in itself is concerning.
Standing up, I cross to his other side to repeat the process, he leans towards me still talking, and nuzzling his face into my hair as soon as I sit down.
Kind of freaky, but I can’t say I don’t feel the same, he smells like cinnamon and coffee. I had a hell of a time earlier fighting myself to get out of his lap when he wrapped me up. Except even then, his scent was muffled by all the blankets.
Why does he smell so good?
This side is not bleeding at all, but the skin is pretty scraped up. Once it’s clean and bandaged he pulls me into his lap and starts purring again. I haven't heard an alpha purr since grandpa died, he used to do it when I was little. When he would tell me about grandma and stories of when mom was little. As I got older he would do it less often, usually only if I got hurt, and then just for a few minutes.
It’s taking everything in me not to just close my eyes and fall asleep right now. Which is bat shit crazy, because I still don’t know anything about this guy, or why the hell he’s in my house. I guess it is good timing that there is a loud knock, and then another strange alpha walks in, followed by Dr. Leo and Gabe.