Page 20 of Daisy (Omega Chosen #3)

Hawk

" D aisy?" I say softly, crouching beside where she's curled up on the van's mattress. "Princess, we're here."

Her eyes flutter open, unfocused and soft with sleep. She makes this small sound, half yawn, half sigh that does absolutely nothing for my self-control.

"Mmm?" She blinks slowly, trying to process where we are.

"New motel. Better than last night." I keep my voice gentle, even though her scent is making my brain short-circuit. "Would it be okay if I carried you inside? You can go right back to sleep."

She smells incredible. Honeysuckle and vanilla so thick and warm I could drown in it.

But there's something else underneath. Something that makes my chest tighten and calls to every possessive instinct I've ever had.

Her scent hits me like lightning, and my alpha hindbrain sits up and takes notice like a dog hearing a dinner bell.

Something that whispers mine in a language I don't understand but my body sure as hell does.

"Okay," she whispers, already starting to drift off again. "Trust you."

Trust you. The words hit me square in the chest as I slide my arms under her carefully. She settles against me like she belongs there, and fuck me sideways, maybe she does.

She weighs nothing in my arms, which is both a problem and not a problem, depending on how you look at it.

"Hawk?" Gunner's voice cuts through the haze. "You good?"

"Peachy," I manage, though my voice sounds like I've been gargling gravel.

The new motel is definitely a step up from last night's disaster. Actual carpet, actual furniture that doesn't look like it came from a dumpster. August got us two rooms this time, which is either really good planning or really bad timing, depending on how you want to spin it.

"Room twenty-three and twenty-four," August says, appearing with keys like the efficient little beta he is. "They're connected - there's a door between them."

I follow him down the hall, hyperaware of the precious cargo in my arms. Of how perfectly Daisy fits against my chest, like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

Her fingers are curled into my shirt like she's anchoring herself to me, and every breath I take floods my system with more of her intoxicating sweetness.

Focus, dickhead.

She's been through hell. The last thing she needs is me thinking with the wrong head.

But fuck, she smells like everything I never knew I was missing.

August opens the door to twenty-three, and I set her down on the bed closest to the wall, careful not to wake her. She looks so damn small against the white sheets, dark hair spread across the pillow. In sleep, her face is peaceful, no fear tightening her features. Trusting.

That trust hits me square in the chest. She feels safe enough with me to let her guard down completely, to be vulnerable in a way that's probably foreign to her.

The knowledge should make me feel honored. Instead, it makes me feel like a wolf who's been invited to guard the henhouse.

"We'll take this room," August says, settling on the other bed. "You guys can have twenty-four."

Smart beta. Keeping the calming influence with our omega while the alphas try not to lose their minds next door.

I turn to leave, but Daisy makes this soft sound that stops me cold. Not quite awake, not quite asleep.

"Hawk?" Her voice is barely there, thick with exhaustion.

I'm back at her bedside before I realize I've moved. Her dark eyes flutter open, unfocused and soft with sleep.

"I'm here, princess."

"Don't go far," she breathes, and something in my chest pulls tight. The vulnerability in her voice, the way she looks at me like I'm her lifeline, it undoes something fundamental inside me.

"Right next door. You need anything, you holler."

She nods, already drifting off again. "Safe," she murmurs, so quiet I almost miss it.

Safe. The word hits me like a punch to the gut. She feels safe with me. With us. After everything she's been through, somehow we've become her safe place.

I back out of the room slowly, closing the door with more care than I've ever used for anything in my life. In the hallway, the other three are waiting, and judging by their expressions, they're dealing with the same shit I am.

Welcome to the club, boys.

"She okay?" Dante asks, running a hand through his military-short hair.

"Sleeping like a baby." I head for room twenty-four, needing space that doesn't smell like temptation. "But we've got a problem."

Inside, I claim the bed farthest from the connecting door. Not that it'll help much, these walls are thin as paper, but a man can dream.

"Her suppressants," Dante says, pacing to the window.

His face is grim. "They drug these omegas up hard at the Omega House.

I've only ever scented Daisy once before tonight and thought it was so strong it nearly knocked me off my feet.

" He turns back to us. "But this... this will be a problem if anyone else scents her.

This is like a hundred times stronger than it was that night. "

My stomach drops. "Meaning?"

"Meaning she'll go into heat if we don't get her suppressants. Soon."

The words hit like lightning. Heat. Our omega, burning with need, surrounded by four alphas who are already half-crazy with want. The thought sends liquid fire through my veins and makes my jeans uncomfortably tight.

"Fuck," Gunner mutters, running both hands through his hair.

"We need suppressants," I say, stating the obvious.

"Black market," Cassian suggests grimly. "But that means going back to the city."

"Which is exactly where they're looking for us," Dante adds. "But we don't have a choice."

I can see the wheels turning in everyone's heads.

Going back means risk. Staying means watching her suffer through a heat and knowing we could go into rut and take her against her wishes.

She's too scared, too broken for us to help her through it.

Not yet. Not until she settles and trusts us completely.

"We can't all go," Gunner says slowly. "Someone needs to stay with her."

"And we need our stuff anyway," Cassian adds. "Clothes, money, whatever we can grab before we have to disappear completely."

Dante nods. "I don't need to go back. I lived in the guard quarters, don't have anything worth keeping. But I've got money." He pulls out his wallet, extracting a bank card. "Whoever goes can use this. Clean out my account before we ditch it."

"We go in pairs," I say, the plan forming as I speak. "Gunner and I can hit our place, grab what we need. Cassian and August can do the same. Get in, get out fast."

"That means staying here longer," Gunner points out. "More risk of being found."

"Less risk than all of us going back together," Cassian counters.

The silence stretches, heavy with the weight of impossible choices. Every option is dangerous. Every decision could get us caught or get her hurt.

"We hash this out properly tomorrow," Dante says finally. "Early morning, when we can think straight."

Nods all around, but I can see the tension in their shoulders. The same war between instinct and morality that's been eating at all of us.

"I need a shower," I announce. "Wash off the road."

"Same," Dante says, running a hand through his hair. "Been a long fucking day."

"Take the one in here," I tell him, nodding toward our bathroom. "I'll use the one in the other room through the connecting door."

In the small bathroom in Daisy's room, I strip and turn the water as cold as it'll go. The shock hits like a slap, clearing my head for exactly thirty seconds.

Then her scent finds me anyway.

Honeysuckle and vanilla has worked its way into my very essence, wrapping around my senses like a drug.

The memory of carrying her floods back, how perfectly she fit against my chest, how her fingers curled into my shirt like I was her anchor.

The soft trust in her midnight eyes when she whispered my name.

My hand finds my cock without permission. Already hard, aching, demanding attention I shouldn't give it.

Stop.

But I can't. Because I can still feel her warmth, still hear the way she said "safe" like I was her salvation. My imagination conjures images that make my breath catch. Daisy looking up at me with something more than trust in her eyes. Her lips parted. Her scent spiking with want instead of fear.

I stroke myself with quick, desperate movements, chasing release before guilt can catch up. The water pounds down, cold and punishing, but nothing can wash away the need burning through my veins.

When I come, it's with her name on my lips and starlight behind my eyelids.

The aftermath hits like a sledgehammer. I lean against the shower wall, gasping, feeling like the worst kind of bastard.

Real classy, Hawk.

But I can't bring myself to feel too guilty. It's not like I'm planning to act on it. And if a little solo time keeps me from doing something we'll all regret, then everybody wins.

I finish cleaning up and emerge to find the others in uncomfortable silence.

"Better?" Dante asks, but there's something knowing in his expression.

"Loads," I say, because I'm an asshole who can't help making bad puns even when the situation calls for maturity.

An hour crawls by. Then I hear it, soft footsteps from next door through the open connecting door. The quiet sound of a bathroom door closing.

She's awake.

Water starts running, and my traitorous imagination kicks into overdrive. Steam curling around her small frame. Soap sliding over skin I've never seen but want to worship with my tongue.

I try to think about anything else. Baseball. Taxes. The fucking weather.

It doesn't work.

Twenty minutes later, the water shuts off. For a moment, there's silence.

Then something shifts in the very air around us. Even through the open door between our rooms, I can smell it.

Arousal.

The scent hits me hard. Sweet and musky and so goddamn intoxicating it steals the breath from my lungs. Rich like honey, warm like summer rain, calling to every primitive instinct I possess.

She's touching herself.

Holy fuck.

Our innocent little omega, discovering the mysteries of her own body in the steam-filled privacy of that shower. Learning what pleasure feels like when it's her choice, her hands, her rhythm.

Every alpha in both rooms goes rigid. Cassian grips his chair like it's a lifeline. Gunner's breathing becomes carefully controlled. Even Dante looks like he's about to crack.

The scent builds like a symphony reaching crescendo. Grows richer. More complex. I can practically taste her on my tongue, and it's better than anything I've ever experienced.

She's learning. Exploring. Finding spots that make her gasp and sigh.

When she comes, and fuck, we all know when she comes because her scent explodes through the air like a bomb going off, I have to bite my pillow to muffle the sound that wants to escape.

It's raw. Desperate. Completely involuntary.

The most beautiful thing I've ever experienced.

Beside me, Gunner makes a sound like he's dying. Cassian's chair creaks ominously.

Then silence. Heavy and charged and full of everything we can't say.

She emerges from the bathroom thirty minutes later, and I can hear her settling back into bed with careful, quiet movements. Her scent has transformed into something satisfied but tinged with confusion.

"Fuck," Dante mutters from across the room. "We need those suppressants. And maybe some blockers too... just for a while."

Cassian grumbles at the mention of blockers but doesn't argue. We all know what he's thinking. Blockers are for omegas who need protection from unwanted alpha attention. But right now, they might be the only thing keeping us all sane.

I close my eyes and try to find sleep that's been avoiding me all night. Tomorrow's going to be complicated. Planning supply runs, keeping her safe, figuring out how the hell we're going to make this work long term.

Tomorrow's going to be the start of forever with Daisy.

She just doesn't know it yet.