Page 25 of Brave New Omega, Part 2

Chapter 25

KATIE

L oren organizes for the dress and a pair of low-heeled, peep-toe wedges to be sent over to the townhouse that afternoon.

“Want to get lunch? There’s the best curry place a couple of streets over,” Max says, tugging me out of the store.

My belly growls. I swear I’ve been eating like a teenage boy for the last couple of days. But, I’ve also been fucking Max and Loren like it’s an Olympic sport.

Honestly, being an Omega gives a whole new meaning to the Breaststroke.

Or the Bench Press.

Or the Floor Exercise.

Or the Steeple Chase.

I snort, then smile broadly at Max, who’s lifted an eyebrow in my general direction.

“Curry sounds delicious,” I say as I slide my hand in his, and loop my other arm through Loren’s.

It should feel weird to be out with my two Alphas. Are they boyfriends? Partners? Instead, it feels right. Like we were all made to be together as one elaborate unit all tangled up in each other’s lives.

I just wish Callum was here. Bastard.

We cross the street, where two men with sharp features hover, moving to intercept us. They look as though their faces have been squeezed in a vice until their cheekbones are sharp enough to cut glass.

“Professor Loren Bellrose?” One of them says as they casually flank my Alphas. All my senses jump to high alert. Instinctively, I look over my shoulder. Two more men, dressed in similar outfits of dark gray and black, cross the street behind us.

Fuck .

“Who’s asking?” Loren responds, his posture still relaxed.

“There’s rumors that Travelers arrived in Halvassa almost two weeks ago,” the first man says. He reminds me of a weasel or a ferret. His eyes gleam with a hint of wildness. I shiver, remembering Roark.

Max squeezes my fingers but doesn’t look away from the man. I can’t tell if he’s an Alpha or not. He smells like burned plastic mixed with disinfectant and it clouds my nose.

Scent-canceling spray. Something a whole lot stronger than the little spray bottle Max got me.

My abdomen tightens. They want to be anonymous. Which means they want to do harm and not be identifiable by scent.

Loren just shrugs, staying loose. “I am a folklorist, not an immigration officer. You’d have to check those records.”

The man in front snarls.

“You’d do well to heed this warning, Bellrose. New Omegas with foreign blood aren’t welcome in Halvassa society. We don't need weird aliens further polluting our bloodlines. The Council of Peers is already considering sending them to the Continent.”

Loren’s body tenses, but somehow he remains in control.

“I highly doubt the Council of Peers will send away any Omega– foreign born or not– to the flesh markets of the Continent. I especially think that Captain Roxborogh would have something to say about such ventures.”

“Don’t threaten the house of Winter,” the man hisses, as the others crowd close. He finally looks from Loren to Max, to me, wedged protectively between them.

“Oh, found yourself a little Omega to court at last. Would be a shame if your pack name was blighted by your association with filthy Travelers.” Behind me, I hear the murmur of the men at our back. Max casually glances at them.

“It would be a shame if I broke your neck in public,” Max says, as lightly as if they were conversing about the weather.

The stranger growls again.

“Tell Pack Bellrose not to harbor foreign Omegas if they know what’s good for them.”

“Winters Pack can tell my father directly. I’m no one’s lapdog, though the same can’t be said for you.”

One of the men behind me howls in anger. In a flash, Loren lunges forward, and throat punches the man who was speaking. He stumbles back, falling to the ground with his hands around his neck.

Max shoves me behind him as he whirls to confront the two attackers coming from behind. One of the attackers leaps at Max, wrapping his arms around Max’s neck. I shriek, darting forward before realizing that if they draw me out I’ll be more of a distraction to Max and Loren. Fuck, I want to help but if they are all Alpha’s they could bark at me at any moment.

A second attacker leaps at Loren, aiming for his throat. Loren spins in a circle, his body fluid as a cat. Holy shit. He’s a giant, blond ninja!

Max wrestles out of the headlock, throwing the attacker over his shoulder. The man hits the pavement hard, skidding a few feet. I wince at the road burn I know he’ll have.

I mean, he deserves it. But it’s going to burn like a bitch.

One of the men tries to move past Loren, who has managed to pin the man who addressed him to the ground while grappling with the other.

He aims to tackle me, and Max sprints to get back to my side. But he’s not fast enough. I squat, keeping my legs soft. The man in black rushes toward me, and I land an uppercut, knocking him sideways. He stumbles, his momentum sending him sprawling.

Max pounces, grabbing the man by his throat.

“You would dare lay a finger on my Omega?” Max roars. “I will rip out your throat in the street, you fucking scum bucket.” He shakes the man until his teeth rattle, before throwing him toward a throng of on-lookers.

Loren headbutts the last attacker and the man collapses. All four attackers lie sprawled in a circle around us, and none of them bother trying to stand.

A crowd has gathered, and a few whistle as Loren rises to his feet. He rights his glasses and takes my hand, before walking away as casually as if nothing at all has happened.

“Is that Loren Bellrose?” Someone asks.

“The Golden Giant! It is him! Look and he’s with Maxmilion Alvez! Fucking Mid-weight Champion of Amaata! Legends, both of them.”

“Is that an Omega ?”

“Is she with them? Are they finally courting an Omega?”

“Fuck if I know, but I’m sure she’s a tight piece.”

Max growls but doesn’t turn his head and the murmuring settles into a distant hum.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” I say, squeezing Loren’s hand. He pulls us around a corner and up a flight of stairs into a parking garage. We aren’t parked here, but he leads us through the lot, and down a set of stairs on the other side.

“That was a warning,” he says, his voice laced with steel.

“No, it was fucking foolish. Sending a bunch of street brawlers. What did Luken Winters and his Alphahole crew expect?” Max bares his teeth. He might be my playful puppy in bed, but now he’s all ferocious wolf.

It’s hot as fuck.

“Nothing good. We need to report this to Zhao.”

“Kev is going to have a field day with some of the Winters goons. He can fucking throw them in with Roark and let them rot in Alpha prison.” Max shakes his head. “Callum is going to go feral,” he warns, tucking me protectively into the crook of his arm.

Before Loren can even answer, his phone buzzes. He answers immediately.

“Where is she?” Callum asks, his voice a deathly calm from the other end of a thin, nearly transparent screen.

“With us and unharmed,” Loren says, his own voice steel. He turns the screen and I smile at Callum.

“I’m fine. Everyone is fine. No casualties. At least not on our end.” I try to joke, but Callum’s expression is fierce.

“I’m coming home. Get back to the townhouse. Now.”

His voice is all command, pure Alpha.

“Yes, Sir,” I say and salute. Callum growls, lighting a fire in my core that spreads all the way up to my chest.