Chapter Twenty-Four - Nic
Chapter Twenty-Four - Nic
Darius returns to Warren and me after a while, and I instantly notice the front of his suit is damp in the shape of a person—more specifically, the shape of the omega upstairs. Our omega. Our omega, who must’ve been terrified to be home alone.
Why didn’t I see it before? We knew she was running from someone, so why didn’t we assume that someone would come after her eventually? We should’ve already installed more security.
We’re not the sharpest tools in the shed, apparently.
It’s not the dampness on his suit that makes me question things, however; it’s the look on his face. Darius normally looks like someone peed in his coffee—he always seems to wake up on the wrong side of the bed, so to speak. But the expression he wears now… I can’t say I ever saw it before.
His typical grumpiness is nowhere to be seen. His gaze meets Warren’s and mine, but I can tell his thoughts are far away, perhaps on Mercedes upstairs? His mouth is drawn into a line, not a frown per se, but it’s like the alpha is lost in his own thoughts.
Hmm. Maybe this is just what he looks like after being alone with Mercedes, after holding himself back and trying to pretend she’s not his scent match.
I sit on the couch arm, while Warren paces the length of the room. Warren is the first to ask, “Well? How is she? Is she doing all right? Does she need anything? I can—” The words tumble out of him, the questions spoken much faster than anyone could possibly answer them, and he only stops when Darius holds up a hand.
“She’s getting dressed now,” he tells us. “She’s still shaken up. We…” And then he trails off, something he doesn’t normally do.
“Darius,” I say his name, hoping to pull him back to reality and out of his thoughts. “What is it?” I know my brother better than most, and I think there’s something he’s dancing around, something he doesn’t want to say.
And that’s very unlike him. He’s the type who’ll say anything, regardless of how abrasive it makes him look.
“We can’t push her too hard,” he finally says. “If we do, she’ll run.”
Warren eyes him up. “Is this your way of admitting you don’t want her to run?”
“She—” For a moment, I think Darius is about to come clean to Warren, tell him that she’s his scent match, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes, “It’s best if none of us are overly rash. We don’t want to do anything we can’t take back. She needs time.”
Before my brother can say anything else, the omega herself comes into the room. Her long brown hair is damp and un-brushed, her amber eyes wide as she flicks them between us. She wears a baggy shirt with oversized jeans.
None of us say a word as she walks to the couch, and she sits next to the knife Warren told me he found her clutching when he got home. She sighs, and then she looks up at Darius, who stands across from her with a mixed expression.
Since neither of the others are talking, I take the opportunity to move to her side. I have to set the knife on the ottoman so I can sit beside her, and once I’m near her I place a hand on the small of her back. “I’m glad you’re all right,” I tell her. “I’m so sorry. We should’ve upped security before. We didn’t think—”
Somehow, I don’t think saying we didn’t think you’d have another alpha chasing you down is the right call, so I stop myself.
We knew she was running. We should’ve put it together. I was just too thrilled at having her here to really think much about it. God, we’re stupid.
All three of us are staring at Mercedes, and Mercedes is looking down at her lap, at her fiddling hands. She’s still uneasy, as any sane person would be. I wish she felt comfortable enough with us to tell us exactly who she was running from.
Darius is the one who says, “Pack a few bags.”
Everyone, including Mercedes, looks up at him.
“While the house’s security gets upgraded and we get cameras installed, we’re going to stay with Mom and Dad.” To the beautiful omega next to me, he asks, “You ready to meet our parents?”
I think a part of her thought he was talking only to her, telling her to leave, because the relief on her face after that is palpable. Her lips smile, though it’s soft and timid, and she asks quietly, “Are we really going to stay with your parents?”
With a nod, he answers her, “They have plenty of room. Besides, I’m sure our mom is dying to meet you. Nic, help her pack. Warren, you’re with me. I want to send off a location list for the cameras to the guys in the tech department before we leave.”
Soon enough it’s just Mercedes and me in the living room—and that knife that gleams from the ottoman.
“You know,” I tell her, “we can get you something, if you want. A small gun, or switchblade, something you can always have with you when you’re alone.” Anything to make her feel better. Anything to stop that sorrowful look from returning to her beautiful face.
“That might help,” she whispers, and then she turns those big, gorgeous brown eyes to me. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Sorry for all of this. Sorry this is happening. Sorry about your window.” She swallows hard. “It’s all my fault. It wouldn’t be happening if I wasn’t here.”
I lean closer to her, whispering fervently, “Listen to me. There is nothing for you to be sorry about. None of this is your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself for the actions of someone else. Whoever it is, we’ll get them. They won’t get to you. You now have three alphas whose sole mission it is to make sure you’re safe.”
“Maybe I’m too much trouble.”
“No,” I tell her. “Absolutely not. Don’t you ever think that. You’re ours now, okay? So we’re going to protect you. Nothing involving you will ever be too much trouble.”
She bites her bottom lip in a way that tells me she wants to argue with me, that she doesn’t believe me—and that pains me. I don’t want her believing she’s too much trouble. I want her to know she’s everything.
Though it might not be a good idea, I do it anyway: my other hand reaches for her chin and angles her face toward mine. Before either of us can say a word more, I press my lips on hers and give her a soft, gentle, chaste kiss. Nothing too earth-shattering, but I hope it’s enough to back up my previous statements.
Mercedes doesn’t turn her face away. She accepts the kiss, the wordless comfort, and that’s all I could ask for.
Pulling my mouth off hers, I say, “Now, let’s get packing.” I stand and offer her a hand, and though she’s tentative, she slides her hand into mine and allows me to help her get to her feet. As we leave the living room, I give her hand a gentle squeeze.
This girl needs to realize that we aren’t going anywhere. We may not be perfect, but she’s perfect for us, and we’ll do everything we can for her.
She’s ours. We need to prove it.