Page 26 of Claiming the Pack’s Omega (Riverwell Omegaverse #2)

Milo

I ’m touching a girl.

Holy shit.

No, that’s not right… I’m touching a woman.

I may be wholly and wildly inexperienced with the opposite sex, but there’s no definition of the word woman that wouldn’t apply to Reyna, over the definitions of the word girl.

She’s stunning.

And mature.

And strong.

And stunning, did I mention stunning?

I feel like a bumbling idiot even breathing the same air as her. Her petrichor scent, which is carrying this intense undertone like a thunderstorm is approaching, is so different than the scent of any other omegas I’ve been around.

Not that I’ve been around very many, considering I barely leave the house, but there were a few in college that I’d be able to scent as they walked past me in the hallways.

Their scents were always sickly sweet.

Not Reyna’s.

I love rain. I’ve always loved it. I got in trouble once, when I fell asleep with the window open when it was thundering outside. I got the carpets in my bedroom wet, but I swear, it was some of the best sleep I’ve ever had.

I want to bury my face in her neck and breath her in until I’ve memorized every single note of her scent.

But that’s silly.

And stupid.

Because an omega like her would never be interested in a guy like me.

If things between her and the pack work out—and I hope they do, because I know how much Stone and Theo already like her, and Killian’s already halfway there and he’s only known her for a day—then I assume things will be as they always have been.

I’ll hang around, floating in their orbit, like I normally do, except this time around, the three of them will be revolving around Reyna.

I’ve always been an outsider. Best case scenario I was picked last. Worst case scenario I was picked on.

Or worse.

My parents called it “schoolyard bullying” and didn’t understand why I was never able to just get over it.

And I never dared tell them the reason why it was happening, because if I told them and they agreed?

I would’ve killed myself, probably.

I thought I was going to die a lot during middle school. Getting waterboarded in the school bathroom while they flushed the toilet over and over while holding my head in the bowl will do that to a kid.

It all started when I was a new sixth grader and Angie Winters, the popular girl from the grade above me, needed help on her math homework.

We worked together every Tuesday and Thursday for a month before she kissed me.

Then she went around the whole school telling people that I tried to touch her inappropriately.

That’s when the bullying started. Everyone called me a disgusting pervert. I don’t know how our parents weren’t called in or involved in the situation, but they never were.

In some ways, it helped because I didn’t have to face my family’s judgment. It hurt in other ways, though, because a lot of the kids at school took it upon themselves to administer their own vigilante punishments.

The bullying continued all through middle school, until my family adopted Theo, and we started going to the same school. Which means that sort of relentless bullying was going on until I was fourteen.

But the damage was done.

You get called a pervert and a rapist enough, you get treated like a disgusting monster enough, and you start to believe it.

Reyna shifts in her seat and her thigh presses more firmly against mine.

My breath catches in my throat.

I know deep down that I only kissed Angie Winters, and even then, only once. We barely even held hands before that. But Angie must’ve thought badly enough of me to lie and ruin my life. There’s a reason she did that. And that reason has to do with me.

Looking back on that time before everything started, I definitely had a bit of a crush on Angie Winters, but I think that’s mostly because she was a pretty girl who wanted to spend time with me. Even before all the bullying, I was a wallflower.

With Reyna?

I think I like her. Like, actually like her.

And that’s dangerous.

Because I have no right to.

“Is this your pack house?” Reyna asks, placing a hand on my knee as she leans over me to take a peek out of the window.

I freeze. I sure do a lot of freezing when I’m around her, which is ironic, because I also feel incredibly warm.

“Y—yes,” I say, leaning back so she can take a better look.

“Wow,” she breathes out, her eyes wide. “You guys live in a mansion.”

I try and take it in through her eyes. It’s a two-story brick house with window shutters. We keep the grounds well-maintained and, in my opinion, there’s a warm, homey feeling to it. Especially in comparison to my parents’ house.

My mother is the kind of omega who’s a big fan of minimalism, for whatever reason. Lots of hard angles, walls made of glass, that sort of thing.

I can see how, in comparison to her house, ours would seem like a mansion.

“Welcome to our home, Reyna,” Killian says, turning backwards in his seat to look at her. “Theo, help Stone up to his room. Milo? Give Reyna a tour and show her to the guest room.”

“O—okay,” I nod.

My hands are shaky as I open the passenger’s side door.

Reyna hefts her duffel bag over her shoulder and eyes the house hesitantly.

I should offer to carry that for her.

But what if she doesn’t want me taking her stuff? I wouldn’t blame her.

But still, I want to do things for her.

Even though I’m a terrible alpha, by basically any metric, I still have the urge to care for her.

By the time I build up the courage to ask her if she needs help, she’s already following behind Theo and Stone.

“Let me… at least… try to get to the front door,” Stone huffs.

“Okay man, whatever you want,” Theo says, following close behind Stone in case he falls.

“Don’t push yourself too hard or else you’re going to make my job harder,” Reyna says from behind them, her brows drawn down in concern.

“Milo,” Killian says, his voice low.

He’s still sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, the window rolled down so he can talk to me.

“Yes?” I ask.

“I’ll be in meetings for the majority of the day, but if you need anything, text me, alright?”

“I’ll be fine.” I stare down at my shoes against the paving of our driveway.

“I notice the way you look at her," he says softly.

My head jerks up and I can practically taste the panic I’m feeling at the back of my throat.

“What—why is that relevant?”

“I’m far from a paragon of virtue when it comes to treating her as she deserves," he says. “But all things considered, even though I’ve been unreasonable with her, she’s been incredibly reasonable with me.”

“I don’t understand why you’re saying this to me.”

“I see how anxious you are of fucking things up with her. But I also see how she looks at you, and frankly, I don’t think she’s nearly as upset with you as you think she is," he says, nodding towards her.

Her head is thrown back in laughter at something Theo said, her raven colored hair flowing down her back.

I want to touch it.

Fuck, that sounded creepy.

She’s just so beautiful, I feel the need to make sure she’s real.

“You really think so?”

“I do. I also think if you ask her yourself, you’d find she’d give you the same answer.” He glances at his watch. “I have to head into the office. I have a meeting I have to get to. Text me if you need any help, alright?”

“Okay.”

I head inside, kicking off my shoes by the front door and following their raised voices.

“Holy shit you’re heavy,” Theo groans from the top of the stairs.

“You need to hit the gym more, then,” Stone huffs. “Less time sitting at your desk all day.”

“Excuse me, but sitting at my desk all day is my job ,” Theo huffs.

Reyna’s eyes immediately find me when I make it to the top of the stairs.

“Do they always bicker like this?” She asks, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Yeah, basically,” I say, my lips tugging up into a small smile.

I can’t help it. I like the look of her in our home.

“Alright, I’ll get this meathead into bed. Then I’ll head to the pharmacy to pick up the stuff he needs before I leave for the firm, sound good, guys?” Theo asks.

“Sounds good,” I nod.

“So, do I get the tour now?” Reyna asks, blinking up at me.

Wow.

My mouth goes dry. She’s so breathtakingly gorgeous. Like she just walked off of a modeling shoot, or something.

“Milo?”

God, I love it when she says my name.

“Y—yeah,” I stutter out, reaching up and rubbing the back of my neck. “Sorry. Yeah, I’ll give you a tour.”

“Great, thanks. Last thing I’d want is to poke around somewhere I’m not allowed.”

“There’s nowhere in the house you can’t go,” I shrug. “You’re staying here, so it’s your house too.”

Her brows draw down. She doesn’t believe me. Dammit. Is it me? Or is it the whole situation?

“How—how about I show you to your room first? So you can set your stuff down?”

“Okay, lead the way.”

Her petrichor scent fills my lungs as I walk past her and down the hall to our guest room.

It’s simple, with a king-sized bed and a dresser that I don’t think has been used since we bought this house. The moment she walks in here, I start noticing all of its deficiencies.

The comforter isn’t the soft kind that omegas like. The blinds are those hard-wood kind of vertical blinds and not soft curtains. There aren’t any decorations to make it feel more lived in, not even a stock photo picture on the wall.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not much, we can?—”

“You’re kidding, right?” She asks me, her eyes wide. “This room is huge.”

She steps into the room, peeking into the empty walk-in closet.

“Really?” I ask her.

“Yeah, this closet was the size of my old room before I moved into the garage, back at my parents’ place," she says.

My brows draw down in concern. There are some Northside homes where the walk-in closets are massive, but this room isn’t one of them.

“The closet isn’t very big,” I say, quietly.

“Yeah, technically, my old bedroom was a closet," she shrugs.