Wonderful #2
"Oh, would he." Owen laughs.
"He would." I hold the spoon out. "Go on. Be a gentleman."
He shakes his head, but he's already caving, I can see it. He leans across the table, opens his mouth, and lets me feed him the bite, chewing with the grave concentration of a man tasting wine he already suspects has turned.
He swallows, then nods. "Wow. That is genuinely awful."
A laugh bursts out of me, as I load up another bite for myself. "You," I say as I lift the spoon, "have no taste."
The front door opens.
My heart shoots into my throat and the spoon slides out of my fingers.The spoon clatters against the bowl, and my heart lurches up into my throat, every muscle going rigid at once.
They found me.
He's here.
For one terrible second I'm certain it's my father filling the doorway, come to drag me back. I blink repeatedly, trying to make my eyes focus.
Then a woman steps through the door, and the terror drops out of me as fast as it came.
She comes in without knocking, a set of keys spinning around one finger, sunglasses shoved up into shoulder-length hair so dark it's nearly black.
It's the woman from the hallway photo, the one with the green hair and the beautiful smile.
The green is gone now, grown out into this deep sleek dark, but it's her, unmistakably.
She's got the same dark eyes as Nico, and the same easy way of taking up a room.
She pulls up short when she sees me, brows lifting, and a slow grin spreads across her face. She swings it toward Owen like a loaded question.
"Well." She drags the word out, delighted. "Good morning, Owen. Don't let me interrupt."
Owen goes a little pink. "Renata. It's not what you think."
"Hey, I wasn’t thinking anything." She holds up both hands, still grinning, and turns back to me. "Hello," she says politely. "I'm Renata."
"Lyra," I introduce myself, then my eyes catch on her arms. Both of them are covered, wrist to shoulder, in the most beautiful tattoos I've ever seen.
Not the stiff, matched-set tattoos I've glimpsed on my father's security men, but something alive, flowers spilling into birds spilling into fine curling script, all of it flowing together like it grew there.
"Your tattoos are stunning," I say with a small gasp. "I've never seen anything like them. They're gorgeous."
Something warm flickers across her face. "Yeah?" She turns her forearm over to show me a spray of moths climbing toward her elbow. "Thank you. These are mine. Not just, you know, mine. But I drew them. And I even did the ink on half of them." She touches a vibrant pink rose along her forearm.
"You did these?" I lean in, in awe. "You designed them and put them on your own arm?"
"The ones I could reach." She smirks. "My buddy, Bryce, did the rest."
"That's incredible. Truly. You're an artist."
Renata has the most vibrant smile on her face, turning to look at Owen. "Okay, I like her," she announces before dropping into the third chair and stealing a marshmallow out of my unholy cereal bowl. "Wherever you found this one, she can stay."
Owen laughs, warm and pleased, clearly delighted Renata likes me.
"Renata is Nico's sister," he tells me.
"I can tell." I glance back at the she-alpha. "You look just like him."
Renata groans and drops her head back. "God. I know. I hear it constantly." She points a marshmallow at me. "For the record, he looks like me. I came first. But yeah, the whole lot of us are basically the same face in different sizes. You put us in a lineup, good luck."
"How many siblings do you have?"
"There are five of us in total." She pops the marshmallow in her mouth.
"And I'm the only girl. Thank god I presented as an alpha," she grumbles.
"Four brothers and no backup, an omega never would've made it out of that house alive.
" She says it dryly, but there's something fond under it. "It's a miracle I survived."
I laugh, and Renata leans back in her chair, studying me with easy curiosity.
"So," she draws the word out, "how long are you visiting?"
Her gaze drops as she asks it, sliding over the black shirt swallowing my shoulders. One eyebrow arches, and a slow smile curls at her mouth as she cuts her eyes to Owen. She clearly knows it’s his.
"Cute shirt," she adds, all innocence, her voice doing something that is the opposite of innocent.
Owen turns a shade of pink. "She needed something to sleep in, Ren."
"I didn't say a word." She lifts her hands, delighted with herself.
I can't help the smile that tugs at my mouth. There's something about Renata, an easy, sparkling warmth that fills the whole room, that makes me want to lean toward her. I've known her all of five minutes and I already like her.
"I'm only staying a few days," I say. "Just until I get on my—"
"A few days?" Owen interrupts, his smile drops so fast it's almost funny, except for the way his eyes go to me, worried all over again. "And then, what, where would you, I mean." He stops and takes a breath, regrouping. "You don’t have to leave. Where would you go?"
"I'll figure something out," I say. "I mean, there are places for this. Right? Omega shelters, transitional housing, that kind of thing,” I say it lightly, like I've got it handled, but the truth is I have no clue what I’m actually going to do next.
"I'll find a bed somewhere then I’ll sort out the rest."
Renata snorts so hard she nearly chokes on a chocolate puff.
"Yeah, that's not happening." She smirks, shaking her head. "No way in hell my brother lets an omega walk out of his house and check herself into one of those places. He'd sooner move you into his own bed."
I blink at her. "Why not?"
But neither one of them answer. They both go quiet, and something passes between them across the table, a look I can't read.
"Why wouldn't he let me stay at a shelter?" I ask again. "What's wrong with them?"
"They aren't…safe," Owen finally says. "Not for someone like you." He turns his chair toward me instead, his voice going soft and certain. "That's why you're not going to one. You're staying here. With us."
"Owen, I can't just—"
"You can." He reaches across the table and lays his warm hand over mine. My heart trips right over itself. "You're not a burden, Lyra. Nobody here thinks that. So stop looking for a reason to leave."
I stare at our hands. At his long fingers slipping around mine as if they belonged there.
"Promise me, Lyra." He waits until I look up. "Promise me you won't run off. No slipping out in the middle of the night, no disappearing to some shelter without telling anyone. If you decide to go, please talk to me first."
I open my mouth to argue. I mean, I've got a dozen reasons ready. They don’t need to deal with my father, his rage, or all the ways I'll ruin their lives just by being here.
But Owen’s hand is so warm over mine, and Renata's watching me with those kind dark eyes, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, someone actually wants me in the room.
"Okay," I whisper. "I promise."