Chapter 3 #2
“Orla,” I rasp, leaning forward at the kitchen table. “At the end of the day, the reasons why you left are what they are. Have we been pissed—”
“Your lyrics talk about the girl who pissed on your love,” she says, the skin around her beautiful eyes pinched.
“You have listened to our songs,” the blue haired idiot that’s my pack mate says.
I may have to kill Harris.
“I never said I haven’t,” Orla sniffs. “I said that I couldn’t listen to your songs. How the hell was I supposed to know that you were in love with me?”
“How did you know we were talking about you,” Noa asks, brow raised.
“You literally describe me!” she yells at him. “Hair black as night, eyes that glitter like sapphires, the girl we used to carry like a backpack? Do not fucking gaslight me.”
“Damn,” Noa breathes. “You did listen to our songs. Granted, that song is one of our first.”
“I have been avoiding the radio as often as possible,” she mutters. “Sometimes, you’d show up on television or social media.”
“We looked on socials, and couldn’t find you,” I say, shaking my head. “How the hell did it take so long to find you?”
“I only look at social media through a fake account. My lease has been under Mickey’s name,” Orla shrugs.
The three of us have very big feelings about that name, and she rolls her eyes.
“He’s very gay and my best friend. I answered an ad to become his roommate when I was planning to leave Wisconsin, and he helped me find a job too. ”
“You really planned this out,” Harris mutters.
“I had to,” she explains. “I couldn’t stay. That town made no sense without you. The girls were so fucking mean, between taunting me about riding your dicks, to finding ways to jump me when they thought you weren’t around.”
“We were always around,” I gripe. If she had to walk to the corner store, one of us was with her. We definitely noticed the way people were treating her.
God, we are so dumb.
“You weren’t going to be there anymore,” our gorgeous girl reminds me. “My parents were talking about how I needed to grow up and go to college to find a pack, and I just couldn’t face it. I had to go.”
“Did you ditch your phone?” I ask, gazing at her intently.
“I did. I didn’t want to be tempted to call,” she admits.
“That’s why when I tracked it through the app, it was sitting at your house,” I grumble.
Orla’s lips part in surprise, and I want to face palm myself.
“Are you surprised that we were stalking you?” I ask. “Ever since we found you playing at the park when you were three, we were smitten. We were just a few years older than you, but you talked our ears off in that special way of yours. We were done for.”
“I never had a clue,” she whispers, unshed tears glittering in her eyes. This is why Noa wrote that lyric about her. We were depressed she was nowhere to be found after our first album was released, and we decided to jam out with a bottle of whiskey.
The alcohol definitely fueled the creative process, but it was also chaotic and full of anger and frustration. Maurice found a recording of our writing session and ran with it. The studio was excited by how “edgy” it sounded, and the rest is history.
Dammit.
“None of you ever kissed me,” Orla continues accusingly, dashing her tears away.
She’s gaining speed, and getting pissed off instead of sad.
I’d honestly rather see her this way, because I hate that we made her cry.
“My first kiss was terrible. What was I supposed to think! The girls in town also couldn’t wait to tell me all about how they fucked you. ”
“Wait, seriously?” Noa asks. “Who was your first kiss? I heard the rumors about us, but brushed them off. They never fucked me.”
“They knew all about the piercings, Mr. I tattooed my dick,” Orla says, annoyed. “Why the hell did you do that anyway?”
“I was sad and needed a tattoo that would hurt,” he explains. “I got very addicted to the feel, and now I have the names—”
“Ew!” she squeals dramatically, covering her ears. “I will implode if you say that the names of your conquests are tattooed on your dick.”
Rolling my eyes, I pull away her hands.
“Do I count as a conquest?” I ask. “My name is on his dick. So are yours and Trick’s. No one else’s. He has other things on the monster he keeps in his pants, but there aren’t any other names.”
“Did you really think that’s what I was going to say?” Noa asks, aghast. “I can give you an up close and personal experience with my cock if you need it.”
“I have a feeling that she was very well fucked by it over the last few days,” Harris chuckles. “I doubt she was reading your ink though.”
“I had very little idea about where I was,” she says honestly. “My meds have caught up with me, and that’s why it was so bad. We aren’t talking about me, though.”
“Noa asked you a question earlier,” I say, bringing her back. “Who was your first kiss?”
“The pack who took my virginity during my first heat were guys I met at a club. Everything happened slower for me. I’d get some cramps and breakthrough pain, but not a full blown heat. So I made a plan,” she explains.
God, is she good at those.
“So why was it a bad kiss?” Noa asks worriedly.
“They were really rough, and I was very naive and inexperienced,” Orla says. “My heat was intense, I was in a lot of pain, and the alpha who ripped through my virginity bit my lip when he was kissing me. It just felt awful. I cried through the entire thing, but they thought it was due to my heat.”
We gaze at her with shame filling our eyes. We did this. This is our fault.
“Orla,” I whisper.
“No. You don’t get to come back and do that!” she yells. “I figured out what I needed to do to survive, and did it. It took a lot of trial and error, and a few hiccups as I figured out my medication. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Oh it most definitely matters,” Harris growls. Orla’s eye lashes flutter, drifting closed as she moans softly, shivering. “The day we left, you reacted to my growl.”
“It’s so damn sexy,” she says, opening her eyes. “Of course I did.”
“We’re such idiots,” he groans. “I want to spank you so badly, Orla. You found out your designation before we left, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, about six months before,” she says. “You were working toward getting discovered, and I wasn’t going to ruin that.”
“We should have taken you with us,” I mutter. “Come with us now.”
“I can’t,” she says, shaking her head. “We don’t know each other anymore, Trick.”
There’s a healing bite mark on my hand from where she bit me back while I was sleeping. She has a thing for somno too, and each of us was woken up to our dick getting sucked, or her dropping down on it to fuck herself.
We found out a very important lesson: omega pheromones during a heat keep alphas perpetually hard.
“You still claimed me,” I remind her, holding up my hand. “As for not kissing you, it wouldn’t have been right. We always planned to come back, but we should have told you. I didn’t have any idea your parents were trying to get you into an omega-pack program at college either.”
Some colleges are an excuse for omegas to be courted. The graduation rate for omegas isn’t great there either. As soon as they pack up, they drop out. It’s an expensive way to shop for a pack.
“I’m the only one who fucked around when we were younger,” Harris sighs. “I was upset that I couldn’t tell you how I felt and it made me really depressed. So I’d go to parties alone, get fucked up, and then fuck. I got really sick every time afterward in the bathroom.”
“They knew about Noa’s Jacob’s ladder,” Orla mumbles.
“I’m shit at cards,” Noa complains, cursing under his breath. “I’d always get pulled into playing strip poker, and I’d end up flashing my cock when I lost.”
“None of you are virgins,” Orla laughs. “I can’t exactly talk.”
“You’re an omega who seems to have really intense heats,” I say, tapping the table to keep her attention. “Knotted toys aren’t going to do fuck all for you.”
“I was trying to get to my apartment to try,” she mutters.
“I hate to say it, but I’ve never been more grateful for those asshole alphas who flaked on you. I don’t understand why they’d blow you off,” Noa muses.
“I went into heat early and they were already dicking someone else down. I told them I’d figure it out because I got really mad,” Orla explains.
“You’re no one’s leftovers,” Harris smirks. Orla chuckles, nodding. “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry. We didn’t know you were feeling like this.”
“I know it’s none of our business, but what is this medication that you’re on?” I ask tentatively. “You were really sick the last couple of days.”
“That’s what I was trying to explain before I passed out. It’s a new medication that gives me only four heats a year, but I seem to be having some complications from it,” she says. “Speaking of that, we’re bonded now.”
Our jaws drop at the way she said that and she shakes her head rubbing her eyes.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she groans. “I don’t know where this can possibly go. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to see me as something other than your cute little sister.”
“You haven’t been that since you turned fifteen,” I growl under my breath. “I don’t know why you think you’re a late bloomer. You’ve always said that. Your tits were bursting from your tops by the time you turned sixteen. We had to warn everyone away from you.”
“Wonderful,” she replies. “That explains a lot.”
“Time out,” Noa says, holding his hands up. “Can we take this one day at a time? We’ll call each other every day, come into Minneapolis whenever we can, fly you out, and work on what we all broke.”
“You should have said something before now,” Harris complains. “We’ve just been digging ourselves a really deep grave.”
“I was about to start filling it in,” Orla mutters.
“Behave, Pretty Girl,” Noa grins. “What do you say? The bites are permanent, no going back now.”
Her fingers graze over her neck, making Noa palm his dick as he watches her possessively.