Page 38 of Brave New Omega, Part 2

Chapter 38

MAX

K atie drowses against my chest on the ride home. The city is a blur of lights, and I’m glad she’s allowing herself to rest.

“She’s a problem,” Loren mutters, fussing with his cufflinks.

“Which one? Tilly or Genevieve?” Callum asks.

“Both.”

“Why didn’t anyone arrest Genevieve again? You’re a godsdamn Inspector! You’d think they’d take her threat seriously,” I say.

“We couldn’t prove what she had because the military schematics shouldn’t exist.” Loren sighs. "By that point, someone had let Alfonse know that Callum and I were more than packmates."

"Someone," I snort. "I'll take one guess."

Loren shrugs. "We can't know for certain it was her. But we do know she was looking for troop movements along the border and the coast. But why? She's not Kharawynian

— not in any of the digging I could find. She grew up in New Beloitte."

Katie shifts in my arms, her breathing still even as she dozes in my hold. I smooth her hair.

“But we didn't have full plans. It’s not like when I was in the Army. But Father still sent me files to review – to get my opinion on.”

“Of course he did; you’re his genius son with no stomach for mass murder.” Callum drums his fingers on the car door. “Too bad Timothe never had the same wit as you. He doesn't mind the fighting.”

“Timothe wasn’t at the Battle of Vainamoinen,” Loren counters.

The car is silent. Vainamoinen was the worst campaign since the Civil War that split the shifter families over eight hundred years ago. A battle full of betrayal, miscommunication, and so much death. General Bellrose had foolishly divided forces, underestimating the might of the Kharawyn Army under the leadership of the youngest crowned prince. Loren and Callum both survived it. Barely.

I was too young to fight, too young to enlist or be conscripted. But by the time I was of age, I’d already gotten involved in prize fighting. I knew that the military meant for grunts like me – Scabs , they called us. The Alphas born to low-class families. Scabs on the wounds of pride. They’d send me out to the front with no hope of surviving the onslaught.

“I can’t believe Timothe doesn’t see right through her,” Loren mutters.

“Could it be more spy games?” I ask. “You know, keep your enemies close.”

“Keep them in bed ? If she’s trying to get to Alfonse, why bother with Timothe and I? The Bellrose Pack Alphas are clearly in the market for more Betas,” Loren growls, then sighs. “I don’t know. But if Timothe bonds with her, she’ll be able to emotionally manipulate one of the Bellrose Alphas.”

“That's what she wanted, as much as the military intelligence,” Callum says. “She’s a Beta, and one with a bone to pick. I thought she was just confident, but it’s more than that. She targets Packs without Omegas. I thought maybe it’s because she wanted to be established before an Omega came. You know, stake territory. But, I think it’s more than that. She hates Omegas. I didn't see it before, but processing it all with the counselor at the precinct,” Callum pauses, shaking his head. “It’s jealousy, but deeper. It’s pathological, like she both wants to be an Omega and destroy Omegas.”

A shiver passes through us and we all look at the sleeping woman in my arms.

Our Omega.

“I’ll kill her before she lays a finger on Katie.” Loren’s tone is lethal calm. He would absolutely do it without regret or remorse. We all would.

Katie stirs just as we’re entering the living room. She thrashes and I have to set her down before I drop her.

“Whoa, simmer down Tough Girl. It’s only me.” I hold up my hands.

“Where…?” She looks around, grabbing my arm as her legs tremble beneath her. That damn left knee is going out of her again.

“You’re home, Love,” Loren says, coming to her other side.

“Home?” She blinks for a moment, confusion clouding her features. Then she stands straight, her shoulders back, her body tight at attention. “The townhouse, of course.”

My shoulders sag. Does she not think of this as her home?

“And Callum?” She assesses the room.

“Simmer soldier,” I say. “Cal was just talking with the driver.”

“I’m here,” he calls, jogging into the living room. “Wanted to collect any intelligence Garrett gathered from the other drivers. He’s off for the rest of the night.”

“Intelligence?” She raises her eyebrows.

“Gossip,” Loren corrects. “Helps me stay ahead of my family’s antics.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders falter, and I wrap my arm around her waist. “It’s been a long night. Why don’t I take you to your room?”

“I’m fine, thank you. I can take myself to bed. I'm sure the great minds have much to discuss.” She offers me a tired yet playful smile.

“Let me help,” I offer. I’m not ready to be done with Katie for the night—not ready to be out of her presence.

“No,” she waves me away and walks stiffly to the stairs. “I am well and do actually need to sleep .”

“I can let you sleep,” I joke, following her out of the room.

“No, you’ll want to do other bedroom activities and I’m tired.” She grunts, gripping the banister and taking the steps one at a time.

“Of course I want some bed play with you. You are gorgeous and strong and smell entirely too much like Callum. But I can also cuddle.”

She grunts again and lifts an eyebrow.

“What? I am a champion cuddler.”

“I thought you were a champion prizefighter.” She pants from the effort of climbing the stairs. My fingers itch to sweep her up in my arms, but I let her wallow in her stubborn pride.

“I am a man of many talents.” I wiggle my eyebrows.

She snorts again, but this time it ends in a groan of pain.

Enough of this.

“Just let me help you,” I huff next to her. She relaxes her grip on the banister and sighs, her shoulders hunching inward. Defeated. “This isn’t a competition to see how many knocks you can take. This is home—your knee hurts and I can help.” I scoop her up before she can offer any protest.

“But I don’t – shouldn't – need help,” she grits out. This woman is stubborn, a quality I admire most of the time. But right now, I want her to give in and let me fuss. I waited a long ass time to have an Omega to fuss over.

“Everyone needs help.” I say. “Even tough girls.”

“No!” she says fiercely as I set her down in her bedroom. She whirls on me, bracing her hands on my forearms. “Not me. I take care of everyone else. Okay? I take care of my sisters. I look after them, no one looks after me.”

“Why is that?” A simple question, with massive implications.

She bites her lip. That perfectly kissable lip.

“Because!”

“Not an answer.”

“Because when dad died I promised him I’d look after them. When mom died seven years later, I made her the same promise. Because it was given to me to do – I’m the oldest. I’m the most responsible. Layla is too flighty to help. She can hardly manage herself. Maddie is so angry, and Molly Beth – she’s fragile. Her health has never been good. And Norah was only ten when dad died, so who else was going to take care of her? Me. It was always me.” She hugs her arms around herself.

“And now here I am with you not doing a damn thing to protect them in this alien world. Not there to make sure that no one is manipulating them. Not there to make sure they don’t get sold off as breeders. Not there to do anything useful. I am failing them.”

A small sob escapes her throat, and she rubs the heels of her palms into her eyes.

“Oh Katie,” I whisper. What a weight to ask anyone to carry, let alone a child. “You are protecting them. You joining a Pack will keep them safe, help them have connections. We have resources, far beyond what the Conservatory has. Not just money –I mean, we have plenty of that – but connections. Loren knows people. The kinds of people who can watch out for your sisters anywhere they decide to go.”

“Okay.” Her voice is shaky, and she slumps onto the bed rubbing her knee.

“Let me help with that.” I reach out and press against the muscles in her thigh.

She groans and swats at my hand.

“I can do this myself.”

“But why would you? To prove you can, Tough Girl? Why do it all alone when we want to help? Fuck, we need to help – it’s in our biology to want to provide for Omegas. Katie, you're not alone anymore – you don’t have to do it by yourself. Let us help you. Let me help you. Please?”

I kneel before her, letting her have the height advantage. Letting her have the power. It’s arousing to let her have this kind of control. As an Alpha I dominate most spaces, it’s just biologically how Alphas are wired. Omegas are supposed to be submissive. But Katie never got the message on that. Thank the damn gods. Because I want her to take what she needs, to let us serve her, and to show me her limits.

She must sense my willingness to obey and not push. So she raises the hem of her dress. Her scent is thick, mingled with Callum in a sweet and tart combination that has my mouth watering. I force my desire down. Not now Max!

Her knee is red and puffy, fluid gathering around the scar tissue. I massage it carefully, pressing against the tight thigh muscles above the knee with just enough force for them to spasm and relax. She groans, leaning into me.

“I’ve had plenty of injuries,” I say. “I had professional help for years and they taught me a thing or two about massage.”

“Oh,” she grits out, as my fingers dig into the gnarled scar tissue. “God, it hurts so good.”

“You’re warm. Are you feeling okay?” I press the back of my hand to her forehead, then to her cheek. She is still flushed. I thought in the car it was the collective body heat of the party.

She sighs. “I’m not sure. Aurelia called yesterday, and I thought it might be about one of my sisters. But she said something about their hormone panels being wrong.”

“Wrong?” Alarm bells ring inside my mind.

“Yeah, something about the timeline being off.”

“What timeline, exactly?” I ask hoarsely. All the considerable mass of hairs on my body all stand on end. My cock does too and my need for Katie nearly knocks me to the floor. If she’s saying what I think she’s saying…. I lick my lips, saliva pooling. Gods above, could we really have this chance this soon?

She doesn't notice, only shrugs. “My heat. It’s coming sooner than they expected, I think.”

My core tightens. I can almost taste my Omega, loose and panting from need, her body soaked in her sweat and slick as she welcomes us again and again. Heats that aren’t satisfied by Alphas physically hurt Omegas – sometimes causing long-term damage to their hearts and reproductive organs. We had to learn all about Omegas in our Alpha training seminars.

But her nonchalance is just another example of how little my Tough Girl really understands her own biology.

“So the heat will come soon?”

She nods.

“Are you ready for that dress to come off?” I ask, changing the subject when I see how red her skin is under the collar of the dress where it has rubbed the skin raw.

“Max, I meant it, I’m too tired–”

“No sex, just help. I told you, Tough Girl, you shouldn’t do everything yourself.”

She nods, and I pull off the velvet gown, exposing the strapless bra underneath. Her skin is most irritated here and I deftly unfasten the tight hooks keeping her breasts in place. She sighs, shoulders relaxing at the touch. I can’t help it. I trail my fingers down her spine, savoring her smooth skin. But not letting my touch travel any further.

“Is it dangerous?” She asks, as I pull the fabric away.

“Dangerous? Your heat? No, not with a Pack there to help.”

“Aurelia made it sound like an orgy with dire consequences.”

I laugh at that. Because, in a way, it is. “Kind of. You’re an Omega, your body needs release. Not having penetrative sex with an Alpha hurts. You need our cocks and our knots.”

I shrug. Everyone knows this, it’s something even children understand. Maybe not the mechanics, but the big picture. But not my Omega.

“Want me to get some lotion for the red spots?”

She covers her chest with her arms, and I wiggle my eyebrows. “Don’t be shy now. I’ve already tasted your tits, babe, and they are perfect.”

She blushes and falls back on the bed, twisting away from me. Her perfume is sharp, like burnt sugar laced with an edge to it. Anxiety and maybe a hint of embarrassment.

I get a small bottle of lotion and lather my hands, sliding next to her and gliding my fingers over her tender skin.

“You’ll feel feverish when the heat is coming. Maybe a day or two. Then there will be some discomfort as your body craves your Alphas. But don’t worry – there are three of us here. We’ll make sure you’re okay.”

She stiffens while I speak. So I stay silent, slowly coating her tender skin in lotion. I move higher, into her shoulders, kneading her knotted muscles. One by one they spasm and relax, and each time she moans in relief.

We don’t talk further – only me asking if it’s too much pressure and I knead between her shoulder blades and around the base of her neck. Soon she’s limp next to me, so I tuck her under her covers and snuggle next to her.

“Sleep my Omega. I will make sure you are safe and well.”

Damn it, for all that I am – fighter and low-born gym rat– I mean every single word.