Page 7 of A Promise of Forever (The Vallaverse #3)

Forrest

Sterling's weight against my leg is barely noticeable, but his presence fills every corner of my awareness.

He fell asleep maybe twenty minutes ago, his breathing finally evening out into something that resembles actual rest. However, everything in here is now drenched in apricot and vanilla, that sweet combination cutting through the leather and expensive cologne of the office.

I shift a little, trying to bring feeling back to my leg, but it’s useless.

I don’t dare really move, though. This is probably the first real sleep he's gotten in weeks, maybe months, by the few glances I got of him, and I'm not about to wake him just because I'm uncomfortable.

The protective instincts that roared to life when Wilson threatened him haven't calmed down at all.

If anything, they've gotten stronger, until every part of my brain is focused on keeping this broken Omega safe.

Every notion I had about those weak Valla falling for their mates has already started to shift. It isn’t about weakness at all, is it? It’s about protection. Nurturing. Creating a family, a pack, a home.

It's like biology flipped a switch inside me that I didn't even know existed, turning me from a focused businessman into something a bit more primal and possessive. I blow out a heavy sigh and refocus on the list of fighters set up for this week, both from Dorian and Hawk’s Venue, a few cities over. I’m not a big fan of that Beta, but his Alphas bring in a pretty penny and I’m not going to say no to free cash.

The door opens without a knock, and only one person in the world would dare enter my private space uninvited. Caelan steps inside, takes one look at the scene in front of him, and his eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline.

"Damn," my brother muses, his voice much softer than usual. He’s one of the few Alphas who work with me who actually understands the idea of tact.

"I heard that the big scary Valla took an Omega, but I had no idea.

" Caelan's scent shifts to something amused and slightly impressed, like he's seeing a side of me he never expected to witness.

I don’t blame him. I didn’t think I’d be bringing anyone home either.

"I have no idea what to do with him," I admit, keeping my voice low so I don't wake Sterling.

The confession feels strange coming from someone who's built a reputation on always knowing the right move, always being three steps ahead of everyone else.

"I tried touching him and he freaked out.

He looks like he's been through absolute hell, too.

I'll take him to the house and make sure he stays comfortable, but beyond that. .."

I trail off, staring down at Sterling's tear-stained face. Even in sleep, there are lines of tension around his eyes, like he's braced for the worst. The sight makes something violent twist in my chest.

"That's not really a life for an Omega," Caelan points out as he moves closer to me.

He stops inches from the desk before plopping into one of the armchairs.

"They need touch, affection, pack bonds.

You can't just keep him like a traumatized houseguest forever.

Bryn tried that with Astra a few times when Astra ran off and it nearly tore us apart. "

I just glare at my brother, hating that he’s right.

If anyone understands this situation, it’d be Caelan.

The poor Alpha suffered when he first met his Omega and even more when he met their Valla, the three of them pushing and pulling each other in all sorts of directions before it worked out.

They’re like puzzle pieces now, but it wasn’t always like that.

"I'll figure it out," I say, more to convince myself than Caelan. "He chose me over whatever Wilson was threatening him with. That has to mean something."

Caelan nods, though his expression remains concerned. "What do you need me to do?"

I need to move Sterling to somewhere more comfortable, but the logistics are complicated by how he’s responding to even me.

I’m not even sure how we get him out of here, honestly.

And if Wilson is lying in wait? Fuck, I might end up in a cell for ripping a police officer’s head clean off his shoulders tonight.

As if my brother can read my mind, he gestures toward the door. “Hallway is clear of any lingering threats. Hendricks and his men are gone and a car is waiting for you and your Omega whenever you’re ready to go. Astra’s about ready to kill me if I don’t get back. Need anything else?”

That’s part of the problem. I have absolutely no idea what I need.

I’ve never entertained the idea of a mate, let alone someone I want to protect.

Slowly, I scoot my chair back from the desk.

Sterling makes a soft sound of protest as he loses the warmth of contact with my leg, but he doesn't wake up.

Instead, he flops over onto his side on the carpet, still deeply unconscious.

I hold back a laugh before it turns into pure rage, the dim light of the office giving me a completely different view than before.

I caught the tears and the tattoos and the fear, but the bruises and cuts weren’t as clear.

Now? They show so much clearer, especially the purple fingerprints around his throat.

"I'm going to fucking kill that Alpha," I snarl, cataloging every piece of pain I can see before looking up at my brother.

"Go search up Wilson," I tell Caelan. "I need everything you have on him.

Financial records, personal history, where he lives, where he drinks, who he fucks.

Everything. Right now, I'm getting Sterling home," I continue, looking back down at the unconscious Omega on my office floor.

"How?" Caelan asks practically. "You said yourself you can't touch him."

The question hits the heart of the problem.

Sterling needs to be moved, needs medical attention and a safe place to recover, but the terror in his eyes when I reached for him before stops me from just picking him up.

The logical thing would be to wake him up, explain what we're doing, and get his consent for every step.

But he's exhausted to the point of collapse, and I don't want to drag him back to consciousness just to terrify him again.

I growl at Caelan, frustrated by the impossible situation, and my brother just laughs. "Easy there, protective Alpha," he says, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm trying to help, not criticize."

"Valla," I correct automatically, though the distinction feels less important than it used to.

"Right, Valla. My mistake." His grin suggests he’s having too much fun with this. He throws me a mock salute and slips out the door, leaving me once again with Sterling. The beauty that this place holds now feels distant, the Omega at my feet stealing all of my attention.

I kneel beside him and shrug out of my suit jacket before wrapping the jacket around Sterling's shoulders, before tucking it around him. He doesn't wake, but he makes a soft sound before curling into the warmth, his fingers clutching at the fabric unconsciously.

The implicit trust in that small gesture makes me smile. He’s choosing me.

Taking a deep breath, I slide my arms under him and lift him carefully against my chest. Sterling curls into me immediately, his body seeking warmth and security even in sleep. He makes a small snuffling sound that might be a snore, and despite everything, a smile spreads across my face.

It takes everything in me not to do more than press my lips to his flushed forehead and just carry him through the back corridors of the venue, avoiding the main gala entirely.

My car is waiting in the private parking area, the driver already holding the door open.

He takes one look at the unconscious Omega in my arms and doesn't ask any questions, which is why I pay him so well.

I settle into the backseat with Sterling still cradled against my chest, adjusting him so his head rests against my shoulder. It almost feels too perfect, like he belongs there, like he’s always belonged there.

My estate comes into view after about twenty minutes, all stone and glass nestled into the hillside with panoramic views of the city below.

It's designed to be impressive and intimidating, the kind of place that reminds visitors exactly who they're dealing with.

But looking at it now with Sterling unconscious in my arms, I wonder if it's going to feel like another prison to him.

I wonder if that’s how my Omega father felt over the years.

Pushing that toward the back of my mind, I climb out of the car, my staff already waiting as we arrive.

They're good people, loyal and discreet, but they're not used to having an Omega in the house. It’s been nearly fifteen years since my parents died and I’ve never brought someone around to the house.

The curiosity on their faces is obvious as Sterling comes into view.

Marcus, my Alpha head of household staff, steps forward with obvious concern. "Mr. King, would you like me to—"

"No," I cut him off before he can finish the offer.

"No one touches Sterling. Starting today, there will be an Omega in the house.

Make sure he has everything he needs, but do not touch him unless he specifically asks.

If he needs help, you provide it, but you don't initiate physical contact. Is that understood?"

The assembled staff nods in unison, their expressions shifting to professional attentiveness. They've worked for me long enough to recognize when something is non-negotiable.

"Yes, Mr. King," Marcus replies. "Should we prepare the blue guest room?"

I consider that for a moment, thinking about the layout of the house. The blue room is nice enough, but it's close to the main living areas where business is conducted. Sterling needs somewhere quiet, somewhere removed from the darker aspects of my life.