Chapter Thirteen – Mercedes
My hair is wet when I hear a knock on my door. I showered after I finished eating; I just couldn’t get the scent of my slick off me. The empty plate sits on the floor near the door, and I hesitate for only a few moments before I go to unlock it. Pulling it open a few inches, I spot Nic in the hall, and I step back and let the door swing open more, wordlessly inviting him to come inside.
His black eyes study me, perhaps trying to see if I’m upset or hurt by what happened earlier. I’m not. Not really. Not at them. You can’t expect too much from an alpha; I learned that a long time ago.
Alphas aren’t here to protect us weak omegas. They’re only here to take.
“Hey,” he says softly, running a hand through his brown hair as he steps inside. “I wanted to see how you were doing after… that.” He can’t even make himself say it—thank God for that, since I don’t want any more reminders of how easily wet I got earlier.
It’s embarrassing, really.
“I’m fine,” I say. “The food was good. You’re a good cook.” Man, I sound awkward as hell, but at this point I don’t know what to say. This is all new to me, obviously.
He smiles at me, and his dimples make my stomach twist in the opposite of a bad way. “I’m glad you liked it. I’ll cook for you all week. Normally, when we’re at work all day, we just pick something up on the way home, but I’ll give you the royal treatment this week.”
I feel a blush creep along my cheeks, so I quickly look away and mutter, “That sounds nice, thanks.”
He takes a small step toward me. “I wanted to talk about Warren a little.”
“It’s fine,” I whisper, still not looking at him. Maybe if I give him an easy out, he’ll take the hint and just leave me be. We don’t need to do this. He doesn’t need to make excuses. I’m well aware how alphas work and what they want, what makes them go crazy and lose their minds. Omega slick is the fastest way. I need to keep my body under control.
“It’s not fine. He overstepped, and he knows it. He just…”
“He’s protective of you, I know.”
“What?” The way he looks at me right then tells me that’s not where he was going. “No. I mean, sure, he is, but we’re all protective of each other here. We’re brothers, except… Warren was adopted by our father fifteen years ago. We were best friends before that, so I knew.”
“You knew what?”
“I knew what was happening, what he was going through.” Nic’s gaze falls to the carpet between us, and now that he isn’t staring at me, I can finally examine him for longer than a few seconds. Whatever this is, it’s not easy for him to bring up. “I even tried to call Omega Services for him, but his dad had friends in the system, so it never went anywhere.”
Wait. Omega Services? Omega Services was only called when their help was needed separating alphas from their omegas. When things turned abusive. Or if, I should say. If things turned abusive.
The problem with Omega Services is that the omega herself has to call, and we all know how blind and controlled omegas can be with their alphas. It’s a backwards system that doesn’t really help anybody. It’s mainly there just for show.
But, hold on. Why would Nic have called O.S. for Warren? Unless…
“It’s not my place to say exactly what happened, but,” Nic pauses, “I just want you to know that he’s not a bad guy. He—”
“He’s right here, if you want to let him take the lead,” Warren says from the hall, his arms crossed as he stares at Nic and me. His black hair is slicked back, though a piece of it hangs over his forehead. His blue eyes are shrouded in shadows where he stands.
Nic whirls on him. “I wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t say too much about it—” He stumbles over his words rather adorably, though I hate to admit that.
Warren flicks a thumb over his shoulder. “Just get the hell out of here, will you? Let me man up and apologize for myself.”
I give Nic a nod, and without a word the alpha leaves my room—though he’s replaced shortly by Warren, whose normally intense expression is filled with something I can’t describe. Regret, maybe?
I don’t think he doesn’t this very often, so I try to give him an out by saying, “It’s fine.”
He moves closer, stopping when he’s less than a foot away, towering over me with his six-foot-tall frame. “No,” he whispers. “It’s not fine. I went too far. Just because you smelled like… heaven in a bottle doesn’t mean I get to do whatever I want to you. I’m sorry.”
When his blue eyes hesitantly meet mine, I’m stunned. Absolutely stunned that this is the same alpha who threatened to hurt me if I hurt Nic. I thought I had him pegged, but I guess not. There’s more to this alpha than I knew.
And if Nic tried to call O.S. on what was happening, there’s only one explanation: Warren’s dad was hurting his mom.
For the first time, those blue eyes of his don’t look cold. They’re deep and warm and full of hesitancy and even hope. Eyes like that would be easy to get lost in. Eyes like that you could swim in.
Softer, I whisper, “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I don’t—” He bites back a frown and looks away from me. “—I don’t want to be like him.”
Even though I don’t know the details about what happened, I can imagine them, and I hear the pain in his voice. And, for whatever strange reason, that pain makes my chest hurt. My heart aches for him, and I don’t even know him.
I do something I don’t mean to, something instinctual: I reach for his hand. The moment I do, the moment my fingers weave through his, we lock gazes. Something invisible pulls me closer to him, until there are mere inches between us. I angle my head back as I softly say, “I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me. It’s just… it’s me, not you.”
“Can I—” Warren swallows hard, like he’s about to ask for something he knows I’ll refuse. “—hug you?”
Out of everything he could ask for, I don’t know why, but that’s the last thing I expect, and it takes me a few seconds to nod my head dumbly. I still hold onto his hand, but he pulls his hand out of mine so he can wrap his arms around me and pull me into his chest.
A hug. It’s silly, but I’ve never been hugged like this before.
His arms are strong around me, like steel, and yet I don’t feel trapped, not like I did earlier at the table. His chest is solid and warm, so very warm and inviting. My face is pressed against that muscular chest, and I’m slow in closing my eyes and breathing him in, much like he breathed me in earlier.
Nature’s musk. The scent of freshly-cut grass, a long rain after a drought, with just the faintest hint of cinders. He smells like freedom, and that’s the only reason I feel comfortable enough to close my eyes and surrender to the physical touch.
I don’t know how long we stand there, how long those arms of his envelop me and swallow me up. It doesn’t matter. Right then, time itself ceases to matter. In the back of my mind, I know this is what it’s supposed to feel like, how it’s meant to be.
But very rarely is anything easy. Warren has a past, just like I do. In that way, I suppose we’re two broken souls who’ve never truly felt whole in our lives. We’re alike, more than I initially thought.
To my surprise, Warren is the first to pull away from the hug, and his arms drop from around me seconds before he takes a giant step back to put space between us. “Thank you,” he whispers, averting his gaze from me. “I won’t bother you again.” Without another word, he spins around and marches out of my bedroom.
I watch him go, and as I stare hard at his retreating figure, I fight the inner reaction I have to his words.
I don’t want him to go, and I certainly don’t want him to never bother me again.