Chapter 2
Alek
“Should she be sleeping this long?” Barnes asks, ever the worrier, from where he sits on the bottom step of the stairs that leads to our rooms. More specifically my room, where a sleeping omega currently resides, deep in a recovery slumber that she needed more than her dignity as I carried her in nothing but a towel to my car parked outside her apartment building.
I’m sure she’ll have something to say about that when she wakes, so I will be keeping the fact that one Mr. Krabb saw her bare ass cheek when the towel slipped. I was very quick to rectify the situation, growling at the older man with a glare that would have skinned him alive where he stood if I possessed that ability. Sadly, the man only scurried away to his apartment, and I can only hope he doesn’t think to mention the slight blunder for fear that I might return and kick his wrinkled ass.
“Yeah, bro. She could sleep longer, if she’s anything like Silver,” I confirm, remembering all the items my cousin—more like sister, really—has been forced into a heat alone and suffered the aftereffects. Thankfully, Meemaw saved her with the supplements she takes now. Well, if the dumbass remembers to take them. Pretty sure she’s currently on vacation and going through a heat cycle I don’t even want to think about right now… or ever. Just… no. Gross. Shaking my head, loosening the braids that have already started to come undone, I continue, “Silver’s heats usually last her four or five days, which is pretty standard for omegas. Afterward, she’s a bit of a raging bitch unless she gets some carbs, good hours of sleep, and a cuddle or two for the comfort and contact she missed during her heat. She hasn’t needed any of that since she turned eighteen and started on the suppressants Meemaw provided, though.”
The others absorb that information, Barnes frowning down at his cell phone as he nods, acknowledging my words as he likely uses the internet to do his own research. Can’t fault him for it. There’s no such thing as being too informed when there’s an omega under one’s roof. Trust me, I’d know. Learning the hard way to care for an omega that isn’t yours was something of a challenge, but I’d do anything for my family. Silver taught me plenty about omegas over the years so I’m hardly fazed by what they need. It’s like second nature at this point, though I wouldn’t have a clue when it comes to actual heats. That’s not a conversation I’m willing to have with my baby cousin in this life or the next.
I’m distracted by those horrifying thoughts when the timer pings on the kitchen counter and Barnes’s head snaps up in its direction, right before standing and marching over to the oven with his trusty mitts. The smell is glorious as soon as he opens the oven door, the waft of spicy cinnamon and sweet, baked dough filling the house so suddenly my mouth waters. The twins are going to be pissed they missed out on that, on top of the new omega that Barnes has been hiding all this time. The omega that smells like my favorite dessert and has been teasing me with that scent for weeks on end.
While Barnes is busy, I go about untangling my hair from the knots it’s in, the pale blond strands pissing me off because I haven’t been able to re-braid them properly since Silver went away to her Greece vacation with her pack.
“Just watch a tutorial or something, love,” Lazarus urges, and not for the first time, watching me with a cup of tea resting on his slack-covered knee and a book resting on his stomach where he abandoned it to watch me try and fail to fix my hair.
I offer a bland look. “You don’t think I haven’t already? I don’t even know how Silver does it. I’m aiming for a French braid and it keeps inverting and I end up with a really bad Dutch braid instead. What the hell sorcery do I have to learn just to do my damned ha—?”
Before I can finish my words, there’s a creak of wood that indicates a certain someone is finally awake and moving around, and I drop my hands just in time to turn and spot a slender frame covered in nothing more than an oversized hoodie I wore yesterday. Flame-like hair runs wild all around her pretty head, sleepy, pale-green eyes squinted as she travels down the stairs on the tips of her bare toes.
I don’t know what it is about seeing a woman barefoot and tippy-toeing around, like she’s scared to press her whole foot to the floor, but it just does something to me. I have to fight the urge to go over to her and carry her once more, remembering the feel of her in my arms. The light weight of her slender body pressed against mine, the feel of her chilled skin warming beneath my palms, the way she cuddled into me before falling soundly to sleep before I even got her into the car.
Fucking A.
I only know her name and I’m already obsessed with the little omega, the sleepy look on her pale face which highlights every single freckle that smatters her beautifully-carved face, the wild mane of copper hair that reaches just shy of her lower back, and the way my hoodie hangs on her small frame. And then it’s her scent. If my mouth wasn’t watering before at the smell of cinnamon rolls, then there’s a whole pool party happening right now at the first hints of creamy-and-sweet banana split with faint hints of caramel.
Okay. Fine. I guess I’m not so surprised why Barnes decided to keep her to himself for as long as he did. I’m damn near ready to vault over the couch to reach her, to press my nose into her neck and inhale that maddening aroma straight from the source instead of catching hints when Barnes passes after spending time with her at school.
The librarian for North Five University carefully takes the stairs until she reaches the bottom, rubbing at her beautiful eyes with a sleepy yawn that I find ridiculously adorable, before she comes to a stop and inhales. Frowning, she drops her hand and blinks rapidly before those gorgeous, pale eyes dart from Laz, where he lounges in an armchair, to Barnes, where he’s plating the cinnamon buns, and to me, where I’m gawking at her without an ounce of shame.
Flashing her a wide grin, I greet, “Well, there’s the little lady. Good morning. Or afternoon, really. Mornoon, shall we say? How did you sleep?”
A puzzled expression paints itself prettily across her face and she crosses her arms over her small chest, likely hiding the fact that she isn’t wearing anything beneath my hoodie. Fuck me dead, I don’t need to be thinking about that. Not right now, when the house is smelling really effing good and I’m seeing a beautiful omega in my hoodie with my own two eyes.
“Is this considered kidnapping? I’m not entirely sure what to tell the police when I finally call them after I’ve located my cell phone,” she counters, and my mouth falls open in shock before I burst out laughing. I can’t even tell if she’s being serious, the delivery of her words is so dry that it gives the Sahara desert a run for its money.
“You haven’t been kidnapped,” Barnes declares from the kitchen, right before he throws his oven mitts onto the counter and rounds the marble-topped furniture that separates the living room and kitchen. With the cinnamon buns cooling on the plate, he heads over to the little lady standing awkwardly near the stairs and pauses a foot away from her. “Do you remember me telling you that your mom called?”
She nods.
“And you remember me wanting to take you to your nest, and you saying no?” he questions.
She pauses and squints before nodding once more, slower this time.
I’m grinning like a madman, Lazarus is silently observing, and I’m sure Barnes is fighting the urge to pull her into a hug that I know he wants to offer the omega. Thankfully, her scent hasn’t grown tart or sour with stress, so at least she isn’t actually worried she’s been kidnapped. Or, at least, I hope not.
“And you remember my decision to bring you here? Because you needed rest and we found you trying to sleep on your bathroom floor?” Barnes pushes gently, crossing his arms over his lean chest as he peers down at Zira.
The omega frowns before muttering, “Pretty sure it was the Viking over there that decided to turn into the human equivalent of a claw machine and air lift me from my bathroom floor. But yes, I vaguely remember the decision to abduct me from my home.”
“It’s not an abduction if you didn’t protest the idea of coming with us,” Lazarus quips, his English accent thick and fancy.
Zira turns a narrow-eyed glare on the man, and I actually wonder if Barnes was right about her being cautious of men. This one seems to be all fire and fight and I absolutely love it. “I’m not talking to you.”
“Of course. Apologies, sweetheart. I forgot I was still in the doghouse for doing a good deed,” he patiently croons in return and I frown.
“Wait, what? What does that mean?” I ask, and am instantly ignored.
“Why am I here and where are my clothes? And phone? I need to make a report of an abduction,” she repeats, crossing her arms tighter as she eyes the three of us with very little trust.
Ah. There it is. The caution. Adorable.
“Again, it’s not an—” Laz starts, before biting his lower lip to hide a smile when Zira glares harder.
“It’s considered an abduction if one is unlawfully retained against their will or consent. I don’t recall the words, ‘ah, yes, please take me from my home in nothing but a threadbare towel and leave me with nothing to wear when I arouse from slumber in a bed I don’t recognize, in a home I’ve never been to, with men I don’t know,” she counters, her words rushed and growing louder, a fiery spirit coming out in her that matches her pretty hair. I’m not sure what the attitude is about, but I find it rather appeal—
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
It just hit me. I get it now.
Standing from my seat, I leave her to her ranting for a moment longer, seeking out the goods that will calm her faster than any word Lazarus or Barnes could offer. Gathering a plate, I fill it with two warm cinnamon buns, drizzle icing over the top, and add two glacé cherries on top of each one. I leave the kitchen as soon as I’m done, and I don’t stop walking until I practically have the plate pressed under the crabby omega’s nose, cutting off her impressive rant sharply.
I hear her inhale, followed quickly by a loud rumble of a hungry belly, and I grin widely at the now blushing omega as she bites her lip with a softly muttered, “Oh.”
“‘Oh.’ Yeah. Come eat and then you can decide whether or not to press charges against Barnes and me for coming to your rescue,” I tease, luring her from the stairs with the plate that she adorably follows, her full lower lip still tucked between her teeth.
Gesturing to the couch, I watch intently as she sits demurely, and I’m battling a shit-eating grin as I place the plate into her bare lap and take a seat beside her.
When Zira doesn’t make a move to eat straight away, nibbling instead on her lower lip, I nudge her shoulder and coax, “Go ahead. They’re good cold, but even better warm. Don’t be shy on our account.”
Apparently, that’s all it takes for the hangry omega to tuck into the delicious goods Barnes baked just for her. It didn’t even take any coaxing. Apparently, he overheard my promise of cinnamon buns and he just made them. I consider it Zira’s new superpower, being able to get Barnes to bake her treats without even begging. A man could get used to that.
At the first bite, Zira moans lowly, her long eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as her eyes shut with a sigh. I’m so distracted by those pretty noises and that pretty face that I don’t notice Barnes step back into the room, offering us each a plate of our own. I don’t even know when the hell he went to the kitchen, unable to take my eyes off Zira enjoying her breakfast.
None of us speak while we eat, and I’m all too amused when Lazarus places one of his cinnamon rolls onto Zira’s plate just when she finishes her second and looks saddened that her plate is empty. It’s hella cute, how an alpha’s instincts kick in when there’s an omega around. They haven’t noticed it, but they do the same with Silver, only there’s nothing brotherly about the interactions currently happening with this particular omega. Barnes hasn’t taken his eyes off the beautiful woman, watching her every move like a panther watching his prey. Lazarus has been doing the same, only with a little more subtlety, his eyes drawn to her mouth a whole lot more than I’ve ever seen him offer a single person before.
By the time we’re done, Zira taking the last cinnamon bun slowly as if to savor it, Barnes takes her plate and I turn in my seat to face her as I ask, “Feeling better?”
Zira sighs, slouching in her seat, enough that my hoodie rides up on her thighs, revealing more of her creamy thighs that I ought to be ignoring. I can’t, though, because those thighs look absolutely biteable and I’m all too aware of the scent of her trickling from her skin.
Thankfully, she distracts me enough when she nods, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she says, “Much, actually. Thank you. You’re the first person, other than my mother, to know what I need before I do.”
I shrug. “I have an omega cousin. I’m well equipped to handle a hangry omega fresh out of a heat cycle.”
That blush on her cheeks deepens, the rosy color suiting her far too much, and my grin widens at the sight.
Zira clears her throat, shuffling awkwardly in her seat, before sighing once more and holds her hand out to me. “I suppose introductions should come next, right? After all, you’ve already crossed several barriers without telling me your name.”
Chuckling, I slide my large hand into her much smaller one and shake, offering her my name. “Alek Gage, at your service.”
“Gage,” she mutters, eyebrows pinching together as though she’s thinking hard about something. “As in, related to Silver Gage?”
“That would be the aforementioned cousin, darling,” Laz quips, smirking over at her as he leans nonchalantly in his seat, eyes solely on the woman beside me.
Zira huffs. “I’m still not talking to you.”
“Fully aware, sweetheart,” he retorts calmly, amusement crinkling the skin around his eyes in ways I’ve only ever seen when he’s with us. That’s interesting, to say the least.
“So, now that we have that out of the way, why don’t you explain to me why you’re giving the Englishman the cold shoulder and ignoring poor ol’ Champ’s calls. The man has been nothing more than a lovesick puppy pining after you for the past six weeks, though it was only yesterday that I realized it was caused by your voicemail,” I suggest, turning in my seat to offer her my undivided attention, digging my elbow into the back of the couch and resting my chin on my fist.
“You already know why, you git,” Laz sighs, taking a sip of his tea like a walking cliché of every British person ever. “You’re simply relishing in the fact that she doesn’t know-”
“Tell me it all, little lady. Unload your troubles and woes,” I interrupt the bastard before he can lump me in with those shitheads. Of course, I know what they did. I simply want to know why Zira is so pissed at them. I mean, sure, it’s a lot of money to drop on a relative stranger, but we have more than enough to spare between the five of us. In fact, I’m sure one of us could have paid the medical bills and it would have barely put a dent in the account the money came from. For five men who make enough money to live beyond the means of comfort for the rest of our lives, Mother Favero’s medical bills were simply loose change, in the grand scheme of things.
I am fully aware and conscious that I’m much luckier than many, though. What’s spare change to us could fund a life for someone with all of the necessities they could need. Which is why we support as many charities as we do. You don’t earn as much money as me and my guys do without wanting to give back to those who aren’t as fortunate. Which is what we did for Zira, though it was less charitable and more that Barnes wanted to take care of the omega, and we held the same sentiments.
Zira, still spicy enough that the fire inside her has only ebbed enough that one wrong gust of air could set the embers to flames again, sighs deeply and shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest as she grumpily explains, “I’ve already told those two why I’m annoyed.”
“But I’d like to hear it from you,” I counter, winking at her when he peers over at me from beneath long, dark lashes that brighten those unusually-pale-green eyes until they pop.
“This is stupid,” she breathes, rolling those gorgeous eyes. “But fine. I’m pissed because, when they suggested they pay for Mom’s medical bills when the insurance wouldn’t, I refused the offer, because I don’t like owing people. Money, favors, debts. I hate it. I worked my ass off, Mom worked her ass off, to get to where we are now. I wasn’t prepared to allow someone I’ve known for only a few short months and a stranger I met at the hospital throw money at us like it held little to no value. When I thought the issue was resolved, I found out that they paid it regardless. Without my approval, my mom’s medical bills were covered, and I was only informed when I went to ask about possible payment plans. It would have taken me ages to pay it back, but I would have done it. But that’s not all. To add salt to the wound, Barnes offered to pay for a care facility that would be better equipped to deal with Mom’s needs after her valve replacement and broken leg and hip after she fell. Mom didn’t even hesitate before accepting, so now I live alone, without the one person on this shit-sucking planet that actually cares about whether or not I eat throughout the day. I’ve been with that woman every single day for the past twenty-five years. Every. Single. Day. There were no sleepovers, no summer camps, nothing. It’s been me and Mom since the moment she found out she was pregnant. Now I’m only able to see her on weekends, I miss my mom, and I’m living in that shitty apartment alone. So, you’ll have to excuse me for being pissed about it.”
My eyes are wide as I watch Zira heave for air, her rant pouring out of her as though I turned the faucet too far and her words pour out of her in a flood of sharp words. I’m utterly enraptured, because the more she talks, the more of that guarded, cautious look in her eyes fades, making way for a bone-deep aggravation that I shouldn’t find as appealing as I do. As it was, I’ve never seen anyone with quite so much passion and fire under their skin until now. I mean, not even Silver gets this riled over things, and she can be a sassy little shit when she wants to be. Pretty sure Juno isn’t even this wild, either.
“So, now I’m indebted to a pack I don’t know,” she grumbles, before pointing at Barnes’s devilishly good-looking face. “I have to see that face every day, my phone is plagued by his calls, and now I’ve been kidnapped by him and the pack I didn’t even know he had until the night Mom ended up in hospital.”
“So, we’re back on the abduction,” Laz notes, voice calm and controlled even as his lips twitch with amusement.
“Yes. We are. Because despite the way you’re all trying to downplay it, I didn’t agree to be here, surrounded by men I don’t actually know, and naked under a hoodie that isn’t even mine,” she snaps back, those embers fully aflame now.
I shiver, because apparently a riled-up Zira Favero is something that really does it for me. It shouldn’t, because I don’t know this feisty, little omega, but tell my body that. Worse is the image she’s planted in my head of her lithe, tiny body encased in my maroon hoodie that looks much better on her than it ever has on me.
Deciding to keep my hands busy in order to prevent myself from reaching for the omega and likely scaring the absolute piss out of her, I run my fingers through my hair, untangling the lingering knots and decide to try my hand at braiding the unruly strands once more while Barnes finally speaks up. “It was either bring you here where you could rest or leave you on the bathroom floor. It’s not like we blindfolded you and bound your ankles and wrists to ensure you couldn’t get away. You were barely hanging on to consciousness when we arrived. Is it so bad that we wanted to help you and brought you here to provide what you were lacking in your apartment?”
“I was perfectly fine on the floor,” she argues with a sniff, tugging the sleeves of my hoodie over her hands before crossing them over her chest once more. “It’s not like I asked you for help. I didn’t even let you into the apartment, you both just let yourselves in without even knocking.”
“We did knock, little lady. We’re not Neanderthals. When you didn’t answer, Barnes called your mom and she told us to walk straight in because you were likely indisposed,” I correct gently, smiling at Zira when she turns her head to face me, shock etched into her perfect face.
“That meddling little heifer,” she breathes, eyes dropping to where my hands are trying and failing to wrangle my hair into braids. “So, she was the cause of my abduction?”
“If you want to keep calling it that, then yeah. That was the woman that birthed you,” I snicker, enjoying this interaction more than I rightfully should. I can’t help it. This is the most fun I’ve had with a stranger since Lazarus took us to England and introduced us to his mother.
“I’m going to kick her ass when she’s well enough to accept her fate,” she grumbles, wincing as she watches my oversized hands trying to delicately braid strands of my hair too small for me to work with.
When she huffs a breath and peers up at the ceiling for a long moment, I watch raptly as several thoughts filter across her face before she rolls her head toward me and finally asks, “Do you need help?”
My hands pause. “You can braid hair?”
Zira nods. “Mom taught me when I was little, and I’m a sucker for a hair tutorial or two. Consider me offering to do your hair as a thank you for saving me from my bathroom floor.”
I’m beaming at her before she even finishes her sentence, offering the clear hair ties wrapped around my pinky finger without preamble. I’m seated on the floor between her legs, her knees framing my shoulders so fast that she snorts, the first sound of amusement I’ve heard from the prickly omega. I’m a smug fucker when I grin at Barnes and Lazarus, the former glaring at me like he wants to punch me in the jaw, while the latter eases himself into his armchair, content to watch Zira fix my hair.