Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Oliver
Isolde looks beautiful today. She’s not wearing her scent blockers, and I think we’re all sitting in awe of her. Her olive green cargo pants and black long sleeved crop top underneath her coat compliment her hair, which I can’t stop touching.
Lucas set up the warmers on the patio for breakfast, and we’ve been hanging out outside with her. It keeps the air warm enough to withstand the cold weather, and Isolde seems more comfortable outside.
Even though this isn’t my house, I’m leaning in favor of constructing a new one that she’ll want to live in.
My fingers keep running over one of her curls as I lean in her direction and listen to her speak. Isolde glances at me as she notices that I’m playing with her hair, but doesn’t say anything. In fact, I notice her body is seeking my attention like a moth to a flame.
Omegas need care, adoration, and love from their alphas. The neglect and pain she’s obviously received instead is disquieting. A part of me wants to dump her in my lap and snuggle her. I would if it might not be a little like cuddling a snake that’ll bite back.
“It’s nice here,” she sighs, taking in the winter garden. It’s covered under the snow, the blooms giving off an icy beauty.
“I like being around nature,” Lucas says. “It’s why I live out here instead of Indianapolis. I go into the office once a week to do the things that require my presence instead of a video call.”
“I know,” Isolde says with a sly smirk as Grant snorts. He sat down about ten minutes ago, and not one of us batted an eye except Isolde.
“You worked out his schedule,” Grant chuckles.
Lucas’ alarm goes off to remind him that the food is ready. He and Alesso cooked, which had his housekeeper giddy with excitement.
It’s adorable how sweet his staff is. Well, except for Grant. He’s still an asshole.
“I’m flattered,” Lucas says, standing as he shuts off his alarm. “I’ve never been stalked by anyone so pretty before.”
“They’re usually ugly fuckers,” Grant mutters under his breath. Lucas doesn’t notice, but I do.
Is he being serious? Are there threats I don’t know about?
“I’ll help you,” Alesso says, standing to follow Lucas inside.
…and then there were three.
“Kitten,” I purr.
“You’re not going to let that nickname go, are you?” she asks.
“It suits you. You’re feral and beautiful,” I murmur. “Does your new house have a nest?”
Isolde shifts and shakes her head.
“Why not?” I ask, wrapping her curl around my finger.
“I’m a terrible omega,” she says with a shrug. “Indulgences aren’t something I’m used to.”
“What if your alphas are indulging you instead?” Grant asks.
This could be construed in several ways, but Isolde’s gaze darkens slightly.
“You can’t say things like that,” she mutters.
“Eh, I think he may be able to this time, Kitten. Not being scent matched doesn’t mean that his instincts don’t recognize you as his,” I explain.
“I don’t trust my instincts,” she breathes, shuddering. “They’ve betrayed me too many times. So I avoid following them whenever possible.”
“I can understand that,” I say carefully.
If I fuck this up, I’m going to meet a bullet to a very vulnerable part of my body.
It probably won’t even be Isolde who pulls the trigger.
“You’re the writer of your own narrative, baby.
You can retrain your instincts, lean into what feels right. I think you’re too strong to not try.”
Grant’s eyes are heavy on me, but my concentration lays solely on Isolde right now.
“Someone without good instincts would have been killed by my men in the woods,” Grants grunts. “You managed to map out Lucas’ entire life because you could see he would be the easiest mark.”
“Omega instincts can be tricked through medication and manipulation,” Isolde says.
“Manipulation?” Lucas asks, coming in at the tail end of his words as he puts dishes down. “What are we talking about?”
“Forced omega heats,” Isolde bites out.
“What if I make something that won’t allow that to be possible?” he asks, sitting down. Alesso places dishes piled high with food down, appearing confused, but doesn’t say anything.
Good man, he’ll catch up.
“Wouldn’t I have heard of such a thing if it existed?” Isolde asks disbelievingly.
“Well that’s just it, darlin’. It doesn’t exist,” Lucas shrugs.
“I occasionally get into the labs to work on things when I can. Research is where my heart is, but business is what was needed to get my passion projects into the hands of those who need them. So, I’ll make something that will mean you can’t have your heat forced. ”
“What could be some side effects of that?” Alesso asks.
“If there’s a medical reason where Isolde needed her heat forced, there’s a possibility she wouldn’t be able to because of how I create the medication,” Lucas says. “I could make it a one time injection or a pill you take every day.”
“I don’t ever want my heat forced,” Isolde says, gagging. “It’s the worst feeling in the world. My body doesn’t belong to me. I haven’t had a heat in several years since I was sold at the auction house. I hate even thinking about this, but you need to know that I’m not normal.”
“We aren’t either, topolina,” Alesso says. “I don’t kill often, but I won’t lose any sleep over it when I do.”
“My job keeps me behind a computer as well, but I also don’t care if I have to relieve a douche nozzle of their life,” I say.
“You know my position, Little Nightmare,” Grant says. “I have very little care or conscience for protecting what’s mine.”
Lucas glances at him, but I can understand the undertone. I don’t think Grant wants to fuck Lucas, but he’s been with him for so long that there is a possessive connection between them.
“That’s an interesting choice of words, Grant,” Lucas says.
“Just telling it like it is, Sir,” he smirks.
Lucas rolls his eyes before moving back to Isolde.
“Just say the word and I’ll clear my projects,” Lucas says. “Now, what would you like to eat? Alesso made crepes and a quiche. I made crispy potatoes, biscuits, and sausage. We divided and conquered.”
“It all looks really good,” she says, looking around with eyes wide.
“You do not need to try everything,” Alesso says stoically. “We made a lot of food. Is there anything you don’t eat?”
“Can I have a small slice of quiche, a crepe, and potatoes, please?” she asks. “I don’t eat meat.”
Leaning forward, I grab the potatoes, smirking as Alesso and Lucas move to help with the other items. Isolde appears shocked as she watches the way we fill her plate, and I hope I haven’t served her too much.
Sometimes, too much food can feel off putting and affect one’s appetite. It happens to me just as often when I’m working and just want a snack to fill the hole of hunger.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice deeper and more sultry.
Fuck, everything about her is perfect.
“What are your plans today?” I ask.
“I have some things to work on for clients on my computer. It’s nothing too intense. One of my clients needs intel on a building commissioner that he thinks is crooked and messing with permits for a transitional property build in Minneapolis.”
“What kind of transition?” I ask, not understanding.
“The organization is one for omegas who are homeless and trying to get back on their feet,” she explains.
“It’s called Omega’s Haven. Sometimes, there are omegas who aren’t ready to move on, so the organization wants to offer them a halfway point between the shelter and moving fully back into society. ”
“Wow. Is this city funded?” Lucas asks.
“Not to my knowledge,” Isolde says, taking a bite of her food. Her facial expression relaxes completely as she chews, and her eyes close to half mast.
She’s right, the food is good. However, the way that she is enjoying it makes me want to make sure she enjoys every meal like that. Shoving a forkful of quiche into my mouth, I chew to keep myself from asking anything or apologizing that Lucas didn’t answer the phone fast enough when she called.
I heard her tone last night when she said she was having a sandwich. We could have taken her out to eat anything else if she didn’t want to come over for dinner. It’s a fine line between wanting to give her everything and smothering our omega.
“Omega’s Haven is a private non-profit organization.
The founders are omegas who have had a less than kind past and wanted other omegas to have more support than they did,” Isolde explains.
“It didn’t exist when I was sold, but I don’t know if I would have gone to it either way. I don’t enjoy people.”
“Join the club,” I grunt. “I’m an introvert by trade, Kitten. My name isn’t any part of a transaction when I’m doing a job on the dark web. I’ve taken money for a lot of shit. Sometimes, when I’m bored, I teach people how to do a modified version of what I do because I have more than enough work.”
Isolde almost chokes before grabbing her water to take a sip.
“Are you alright?” I ask, rubbing her back.
“It went down the wrong side,” she gasps. “I’m okay.”
My lips purse because I think there’s something more to that. She had a visceral response to my words, but I don’t know why.
“Glad to hear it,” I murmur.
Lucas’ eyes bounce between us, though he keeps his mouth shut about why. Breakfast continues in peace, and the promise to check in.
“Isolde, can I have your phone?” I ask.
She glances curiously at me until I instead unlock and hand her mine. Alesso and Lucas’s jaws almost unhinge because of how much I guard my privacy.
“Put your number in my phone please,” I say instead.
“Oh,” she whispers, inputting it into contacts.
“I want you to have our numbers. Alesso and I live off the information grid. It’s harder to find us, which is why I know you called Lucas last night.”
Lucas winces at the memory of how long it took for him to be able to get in contact with her, but we’re moving past that by giving her the tools to contact us.
“Mine too,” Alesso says, unlocking his phone and handing it to her.