Page 99 of Claiming the Pack's Omega

“Thanks,” I say, blinking up at him. The word doesn’t feel like enough to really express how I’m feeling.

“You’re welcome," he says, his expression going soft.

There’s a moment of silence between us. His gunmetal scent swirls around me, thickening the longer he looks down at me.

I’m so tempted to wrap my arms around his neck, go on my tiptoes, and pull his lips down to meet mine in a kiss.

But that’s a bad idea.

One, because I don’t know how he’d react if I were to kiss him, considering what happened during what I assume to be the last time he kissed a girl.

And two, because I don’t know whether the urge is coming from an entirely good place.

Sure, I’m attracted to him. But I just had my world rocked by a man who’s had me under his thumb for the past six years and an evil crime family who does God knows what to omegas like me.

My first reaction to a man showing me kindness in a moment of high stress shouldn’t be to throw myself at him.

“I’m going to call my sister, now,” I say.

He stares intently at me before nodding and moving towards his desk.

I spin away from Milo, needing a bit of space.

Shame starts to pool low in my belly. Am I broken?

I’ve used my body as a tool to get what I’ve wanted for years, at this point. Sure, sex and physical intimacy has been enjoyable on occasion, but there’s always been an underlying sense of it not being for me.

My pleasure, if it was even a consideration, was always second.

I run my hands through my hair.

Before I started my job with Dom, before Nate betrayed me, I actually enjoyed sex. A lot. It was fun, and I like feeling sexy.

But I don’t know what a healthy sexual relationship looks like, because the one that I’ve had that I thought was healthy ended up with me living a nightmare.

“Do you need me to help you call them?” Milo calls softly, spinning in his chair to face me.

I glance over to him, sitting at his desk with my phone plugged into one of his laptops and a bunch of code I have no hope of understanding running on the screen.

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, standing and taking a single, hesitant step towards me before he decides to keep his distance.

I don’t know whether I want to tell him to sit back down or come closer. The omega part of my brain certainly wants him close, but my body language is probably screaming at him to stay away.

“I—I just don’t know how to tell my family that the house is gone,” I say.

It’s an excuse, at first, because that really wasn’t what I was thinking about, but the moment I say it, I start internally freaking out.

Because I really don’t know how to tell them everything we love is gone.

My shoulders curl inwards as I fight the second wave of sobs that’s threatening to crash over me.

Milo doesn’t hesitate anymore.

“I’m going to hug you now. Tell me to stop if you don’t want me to," he says as he walks over to me.

I don’t say anything as I cling to the front of his T-shirt as my throat goes tight. His arms wrap around me, cradling my head to his chest.