Page 23 of Generation Omega: Claimed (Originverse #3)

TILLIE

I feel Gideon nearing before I see him, and I’m instantly torn.

Mackenzie and I have barely had any time together, but my heart can’t help but be pulled toward my first alpha.

Still, I don’t want to release Mackenzie’s hand…

like ever. Oh, dear, it’s here, the complication of all complications for an omega—too many dreamy alphas. The struggle is real.

Mackenzie senses my confused desires and releases my hand. “Go to him, lass. We’ll have time later, and you have a pack to think of, not just any one alpha.”

I remain in place, staring at him for a long moment, my gaze lingering on his bites that need tending.

In response, he says with certainty, “They’ll wait.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be fine, but I am hoping to eat soon.”

“Me too, but first…”

I jump up and bound toward Gideon, who’s standing in the space between the kitchen and the table. He lifts me, holding me against him, my feet dangling. Our bond zings back and forth between us, as though it’s celebrating this post-heat reunion with as much glee as we are.

“We did it,” I whisper just before kissing the bondmark I gave him.

“You did it, baby girl.” His grumbly voice, steeped in profound emotion, settles me in ways I didn’t know I needed to be settled. I realize his thoughts aren’t open to me now, but his feelings flow into me like a waterfall. Love. Respect. Deep care and connection. Gratitude.

Arousal teases me as our hearts beat in unison. “I think we should give my omega some credit. She might shank me from the inside if we ignore her contribution to our pack-building project.”

Gideon sets me down, framing my face in his dark, warm hands. “No shanking my girl. That’s the law around these parts.”

I’m instantly swoony when he uses the tone from my favorite of his roles. The mischief in his eyes triggers a memory. “Did you hear me?! When I was reciting my favorite Gideon Blake lines at Omega-Palooza?”

His grin is wicked. “Oh, yeah, and I think you’re much better than I’ve ever been.” But then he lowers his voice, filling it with his actory power, and delivers the line that causes my core to tighten with an almost painful need. “The law can’t be caged, Warden. And, in these parts, I am the law.”

Gideon hasn’t even begun to tap into all the lust-igniting resources at his disposal.

The role-play potential, for not just Gideon and me but the entire pack, is endless.

With his first alpha bark, he could force my alphas to get dressed up and act out my favorite scenes and fantasies.

I want to get plowed by Robin Hood and all his merry, alien-fighting men, and I’m willing to die on that hill. Yum… so much yum .

Gideon’s eyes are wide as he stares at me, his intensity building to match mine. “Tillie…” he grits out.

My spiraling sexy thoughts crash as guilt grabs the wheel in my brain. “Kazimir—is he okay? What about Ethan?”

Gideon freezes, allowing himself to calm, before his expression becomes conflicted in a different way. “They’re together. As to whether he’s okay, well…”

“Tell me.”

Like he’s fully immersing himself in his new role, Gideon becomes my pack leader, not just my devoted alpha. “Kazimir won’t survive another heat if he tries to do what he did, remaining in control, not being with his omega. We needed him, and he’s the reason the heat was a success, but…”

“He’s my alpha, and he needs to be my alpha.” What I can’t say out loud, I think so hard my words probably blare in Gideon’s mind. I’m not ready yet, but I understand. I need time to get to know him, just like the others, and I need to make sure Ethan is okay.

“Of course.” Gideon leans and kisses my head. “Now, are you up for a little experiment?” He’s lighter now, having dealt with the most urgent pack business.

“Sure. What’s the plan?”

“Well, we triumphed in our first heat challenge. So, it’s time to face our next epic pack-building trial. Are you ready for this?”

I deliver my best sassy wink. “Do I get to keep my clothes on for this one, or should I just tear them off?”

Gideon rolls his eyes, but our chemistry is about to boil over. “Clothes on, baby girl, but the day is just beginning.”

“Okay then—what’s our next big challenge?”

“First pack breakfast with zero fatalities.”

I blurt a laugh. “Yay for food, but all of us together? Really?” My nerves skitter, searching for the exits. “I mean, I know we need to, but… it’s a lot… all the alphas in one place, and me not remembering…”

One hint of my concern, and Gideon’s calming vibes reach me.

It takes a few seconds for me to feel Mackenzie’s warmth behind me.

He’s not touching me, but I can sense just how close he is.

Without a word, he’s reminding me that he has no memories of anything that happened during the heat, that I’m not alone in this awkward situation.

Testing out a theory, certain Gideon will assist if necessary, I play an unannounced trust exercise and lean backward.

I barely move an inch before Mackenzie’s arm circles my waist, and I’m protected against the wall of his physical presence.

To Gideon, I send a message. I need more time with Mackenzie. He’ll hide his pain from me, and I never want him to hurt.

Of course, but first, pack breakfast.

I rest my hand on Mackenzie’s arm. “Then let’s get this breakfast party started.”

Gideon explains his surprising idea for summoning the pack, and then we test it out. I basically focus intently on needing my alphas to come to me and immediately feel their recognition of my call.

“It worked,” I practically squeak, anxious butterflies swarming inside me.

Six men. Five alphas, at least five alpha bodies, with the first alpha in the mix somewhere.

My pack. And me. My heart lurches around as I struggle to imagine all of us together in one place.

This tiny freak-out isn’t about the heat.

It’s what this breakfast means, this first meal together as a pack.

Gideon was right. This is an epic event.

I don’t know these men yet, but I want to know them. I need to know them. But how can that possibly happen with so many of them?

Gideon gently holds my chin, guiding my face up so that I’m looking at him. “You’re safe, and this is necessary. We have to keep moving forward. We don’t have time to waste.”

I nod jerkily in his hand. “I know, and I’m starving, so…”

“Your alphas will be making breakfast together, so you just take a seat on the other side of the table and settle in for the show.” Gideon’s humor eases me as much as his awareness that I’d really rather have a table between certain alphas and me.

I’m already in my seat, with my back toward the window, as Jameson Farraway strolls in, pausing to deliver a smug wink before Gideon barks at him to gather supplies.

Mackenzie is barely in the kitchen before being banished, because it’s not large enough for anyone else if he’s in there.

With an entirely good-natured shrug, he moves to the other side of the counter and is put to work setting the table.

I’m still fixating on his towel as he moves, and when his gaze meets mine, I blush, ensuring I’m totally caught thinking exactly what I’m thinking.

Thatcher enters like a storm cloud, and Gideon directs him to the fridge before he can even look at me.

It’s a few minutes before Ethan arrives, claiming the seat beside me and immediately holding my hand.

I flinch at the sight of Kazimir’s face as he studies the alpha cooking team, not because of his clear resistance to joining them—assassins shouldn’t be on the kitchen crew—but because of how gaunt he is.

Gideon’s warning echoes in my head. It’s not that I doubted my first alpha, but actually witnessing the dramatic change in Kazimir drives the truth home more than anything else could.

Keeping my voice low, I ask, “Is he okay?”

Ethan winces, clearly not wanting to discuss Kazimir’s condition while his alpha listens, though there’s really no way to avoid that anymore.

The potent reminder that Ethan and I will never have another private conversation sours my mood.

Ethan raises my hand and kisses my knuckles, before playfully bumping my shoulder with his.

He’s trying to bring me back again, but this time, I’m digging in, and as my stomach gurgles angrily, I feel entitled to my craptastic attitude.

Undeterred, Ethan leans in and whispers, “Let’s rate them. What categories should we use? Who would be most appealing wearing nothing but a chef hat? Best pancake shapes? Or, I know, who looks the best in Kaz’s clothes?”

Dang it. Ethan’s legendary foul-mood-be-gone powers are remarkable.

We’re suddenly creating categories for evaluating my alphas, which gives me the chance to study them in new ways.

Together, they’re a bit much, but assessing them individually, even for ridiculous reasons, decreases the tightness in my chest, making breathing and existing much easier.

The simplest category to evaluate them by—at least until breakfast arrives—is how they look in Kazimir’s all-black assassin wear .

The killer’s wardrobe is attractively baggy on Jameson’s leaner body and a bit too long on Thatcher’s shorter but equally broad frame.

Kazimir’s pants are perfect on Ethan, whose chest is bare—maybe his alpha enjoys the sight of Ethan’s muscles as much as I do—and Kazimir and Gideon are so similar in build that the clothes could be a Gideon Blake costume.

Mackenzie’s towel makes all the sense in the world.

That man would burst the seams on anything Kazimir owns.

With my head resting against Ethan’s shoulder, while his arm is wrapped around me, I muse, “So, do you think all alphas have to be big, strong, and attractive, or that’s just what I need with how dangerous things are?”