Chapter 13 Vaelenor
Vaelenor
Ilost my shirt an hour ago.
Full disclosure, it really never stood a chance. Almost as soon as I walked outside, I was soaked in sweat. The late evening sun barely peeks over the trees, but it’s still hot as an Omega in heat out here.
The summers on the East Coast can be brutal, and I’m thankful for the forested area that backs up to the training ground.
It doesn’t offer much shade, but it’s better than nothing.
I’ve just finished on the striking post, and I stretch out my fingers, examining my bloody knuckles.
They’ve already healed, but the skin is still tight.
Daxen is completing what’s probably his eighty-second lap around the track, and some of the trainees are sparring with each other at the side of the yard closer to their barracks. I pluck out my AirPods and drop them into my pocket. I need food, and about twelve green sports drinks.
“Heading in?” Dax asks when he passes me on the track.
“Yeah, man,” I reply, running a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. “I’ve had about all I can fucking take of this soup disguised as air.”
“Hold up, I’ll come with you.”
He veers off the track to grab his clothes, stopping to steal towels from a stack off one of the tables. He tosses one my way, and I gratefully drag it over my face and hair, mopping up the moisture.
“Goddssss this heat is killer. When’s Fall again?”
Dax snorts. “It’s May, you fucking baby.”
I groan and pull open the side door, breathing a sigh of relief when the AC hits my sweaty skin.
When we get to the kitchen, Silas is already seated at the table, boots kicked up on the chair next to him.
He has one slice of pizza in his hand and five on his plate.
I watch in mild disgust as he pours half a bag of chili-cheese Fritos on top of the pizza like they’re a garnish.
He salutes us with his plate, lifting his chin in greeting.
“You eat like a feral ten-year-old boy,” Dax sneers, walking past him to grab a plate out of the refrigerator. “You know we have actual food here, right? Chicken, meatloaf, turkey. Hell, I’m pretty sure the cook made homemade chicken and noodles earlier and put it in a special little Tupperware.”
“Yeah,” Silas’s response is muffled by a mouthful of food. He swallows hastily and adds, “But none of that comes with a side of ‘fuck you and die mad about it.’”
I bark out a laugh, popping the top off of a sports drink and chugging half of it in one go. Dax glares at me over Silas’s head and grabs his own drink. “When’s your pack get back, Silas?”
Silas shrugs. “Dunno. Talked to Ford this morning and he said they’re, and I quote, ‘in a jam with no jelly.’” He extends a hand, making grabby motions with his fingers. “Hey Dax, toss me one of those, yeah?”
“What? A bottle of water?”
“Yeah, I’m thirsty.”
“Why do you do everything I do?”
“You showed up where I was, fucknugget.”
“Alright, calm down,” I snatch a bottle of water and toss it to Silas before stepping in front of my packmate and shoving him back with a hand to the chest.
Pointing between the two Alphas, I ask, “What the hell is this about?”
“Nothing.” Dax shrugs me off. “Silas has been following me around since Ford and Evander left for Chicago.”
He’s still glaring at the younger vampire, and I roll my eyes.
“Dude, sorry. I’m bored.” Silas huffs, not sounding sorry at all. “Ford lets me work on his car with him, or Evander at least sits in the same room with me and reads while I do real things.”
“Real things? As opposed to…” I raise a brow in question
“Yeah. You know.” He pauses, glancing between us like he expects us to understand his chaotic mind. “Not like… Hobbit things.”
“Oh, fuck me,” Dax groans and grabs his plate, making a point of walking to the other side of the twenty-person table, far from Silas before adding, “Reading Lord of the Rings is not considered ‘doing hobbit things.’”
Silas frowns. “Then what would you call it?”
“Reading,” Dax and I both snap.
Dax rubs his temples, and I can’t help but chuckle.
Thankfully, Caelan and Gav walk in before things escalate.
Caelan holds out his cell and places it on the table between us, falling into his own seat like his limbs weigh a thousand pounds.
“Ford’s on the phone.”
I take a long look at my packmate.
He has dark circles under his eyes, and if the irritated redness is any indication, he’s been chewing on his lower lip. Something he only does when he’s stressed. Really stressed.
It’s not only that, though. His jaw is tight, his shoulders are hunched, and he has this distant look in his eye.
That’s what worries me the most. Caelan’s always on top of shit. He’s the one who’s extra-vigilant at all times.
Lately, I get the feeling his mind’s somewhere else, and I don’t know how the hell to pull him back.
I know something went down at the Varenthrall Estate. Enough rage and lust were pulsing down the Bond to make me hard, except he isn’t talking about whatever happened. He told Dax he had a biological reaction to the Omega. Said he thought she was close to her heat, but swears he had it handled.
When I brought up that he muted his comms, he snapped at me. Said he didn’t want anyone to hear him if he lost control.
Which, to be fair, is very on brand for Caelan. He’s always handled his own shit and keeps his emotions on permanent lockdown. It makes sense that he’d be uncomfortable broadcasting them to anyone—even his pack.
That’s just how he is. He’s solid. The strength of our pack. Unbreakable and stoic. Still… he’s not one to speak just to hear himself talk, but he’s never been a brooding, silent type.
Until now, apparently. And this silence feels different, almost like a shroud hanging over him.
I keep catching him staring out the window and rubbing his sternum like it aches.
He’ll shut down completely if we push him too hard, and that’s the last thing I want.
I can’t help wondering what the hell kind of Omega could affect him so drastically.
Honestly, I can take or leave Omegas. I’ve never knotted one, but that’s because I’ve never found one that gave me that holy fuck, I’d tear off the heads of everyone in this room for her feeling.
Sure, they smell good, but it’s never anything life-changing.
Not to mention, Omegas are usually clingy as hell, and our pack isn’t looking to settle down.
Not unless we find our Fated.
It’s been centuries, though, and we still haven’t found her, so I’m not holding my breath. I just hope that if we do, she smells as good as they say Fated Mates are supposed to smell. I mean, it’ll totally suck if she smells like a jelly doughnut or old lady perfume.
“…woke up in the trunk of a car. Hands tied behind her back. She was gagged and blindfolded.” I snap out of my head just in time to catch the end of Ford’s sentence. Apparently they’ve fathered more info about the Omega who showed up out of nowhere in Chicago.
Gav grunts. “So someone kidnapped her then.”
“Sure,” Evander responds, his deep voice rumbling through the speakers. “But that’s not what makes this weird. She said she was injected with something after she’d been in the trunk for a while. Then, her fingertips started sparking.”
We exchange confused looks around the room.
“… What?” I ask, raising a brow and leaning closer to the phone.
“Swear to the Fates. I’ve seen her do it,” Evander replies, and he sounds kind of disturbed. “She can snap her fingers, and it’s like a static charge except it sparks—like when you light a firecracker. She can’t even touch the TV remote. It fries the batteries.”
“She can do this at will?” Caelan leans forward as well, exhaustion evident in every line of his body. My eyes flick toward Dax, who’s already watching him, jaw tight with suspicion.
“Kind of,” Evander rumbles. “She said she thinks it’s a side effect of whatever they injected her with.”
“How’d she get away?” Gav asks.
“She can’t remember. Apparently, she lost most of her memory—”
“She did,” Ford cuts in, voice clipped. “Can’t remember her folks, can’t remember where she’s from. Just that it was warm and by the ocean.”
Caelan’s hands curl into fists so tight that his knuckles turn white.
Evander cuts in, “She remembers her name, obviously knew she was a vampire. Remembered enough to come looking for the closest Bloodbound compound. She’s got bits and pieces coming back, but…”
“Nothing that can help us.” Gav deduces with a sigh. He leans back in his chair and rubs his brow. Caelan isn’t the only one who looks exhausted.
“That’s not all,” Evander adds. “We were cross-checking Omega registries to find her, and one of the guys came across something strange. We don’t know where she’s from, so we started local, with Cook County.
While we were cross-checking with the Federal list, the program was running the same check simultaneously with a cached version. It flagged some anomalies.”
Dax groans. ”Oh Fates, what now?”
“There were Omegas on that registry six months to a year ago who aren’t there anymore. Not dead, no designation change as fucking rare as that is. They were there, and now they’re not.”
That isn’t just unheard of, it’s damn near impossible. Omegas don’t just disappear from the registry like that. It’s government-operated and closely monitored.
“We started to dig, and wouldn’t ya know it? Prelim checks came back, and all the missing Omegas were cut from the same cloth.” Ford’s voice is soaked in tension. He hates nothing more than assholes who take advantage of Omegas. “They’re all poor, unbonded, and alone.”
“Easy targets,” Caelan mutters. “That’s so fucked up.”
“I need you two to stay put and keep digging,” Gav orders. “I hate to be down two of my best men, but we need answers. If this is connected to what’s happening here, we need to know. Keep pushing the girl. Everything she remembers, I want to know. No delays, got it?”
“Copy that.” Evander grunts in reply.
“Yeah, ten-four,” Ford adds. “We’ll keep our eyes open and noses clean.”