Page 67 of Generation Omega: Claimed (Originverse #3)

TILLIE

With a still simmering Ory as my escort, I return to the living room and find it empty.

Hearing sounds in the kitchen, I move toward the entrance, pausing there.

The sight is comical—award-winning actor, Gideon Blake, making sandwiches with Sage McGee.

I remain where I am, treating their lunch prep as a spectator sport.

Sure, I might be a little barbarian tipsy just now, but I can’t conceal the funky grin that’s overtaken my face.

The thing is, my bingo card for this year never included my favorite actor making sandwiches with a billionaire business titan in a beige-saturated mansion.

But, now that I think about it, my bingo card was a filthy liar.

That thing misled me entirely about where my life was heading.

I’m not complaining, but a warning would have been nice.

Gideon’s focus immediately lands on me, and his shoulders relax just from my presence.

But that calm state is short-lived, because my first alpha instantly perceives the change in the alpha to my right.

I’d briefly wondered whether anyone would notice, and yeah…

they did. Sage is pale as a ghost and frozen in place, while Gideon’s muscles flex, his jaw locks, and his hands alternate between fists and tighter fists.

The display of manly alpha-ness is glorious.

I’ve barely been introduced to my primal side, but I already know she’s a messy omega who lives for drama—alpha drama clearly the best kind.

I’m lightheaded as this new brand of power flickers within me.

How easy it would be to whisper in one alpha’s ear whatever desire pleases me and watch him bring my fantasies to life, no matter how violent, amoral, or wanton my request.

Absolute power corrupts, right? Well, this omega is getting her first taste of exactly what that might look like.

It doesn’t even dampen my joy to realize that a power-mad omega would absolutely spoil her own pack for the protection of all.

Is that what happened? Did past omegas play too fast and loose with decency, pitting their alphas against each other just to enjoy the mayhem?

I admit it—it’s the sexiest, darkest, and most compelling yearning I’ve ever had, and if I was a writer, that’s a darkverse story I would tell with spicy glee.

But I’m not an author. I’m an omega, and I love these men, and I would never use them to satisfy any cruel domination goals.

If I was that person, Thatcher would be wearing a leash and a freaking muzzle, possibly clown makeup and a butler outfit.

And he would be forced to grovel before Kazimir and Ethan every day for the rest of his life.

But just because I’m not that kind of naughty omega, doesn’t mean I’m not a naughty omega. Because I’m definitely enjoying the spectacle of my alphas finding their way in our new Ory-forever pack landscape.

Ory releases a rumbling growl that truly sounds and feels like a thunderstorm approaching, and Gideon snarls ruthlessly in response.

Their undeniable dominance snares me, sweeping me into their contest of wills and destroying my intended role as an observer.

I don’t know it’s happening until I start chuffing like a baby tiger, unable to stop myself.

The movement of my lungs feels strangely perfect, another event that would never have happened if I was still sharing my omega experience.

Upon hearing my unexpected contribution to the alpha power party, Gideon and Ory direct all their attention on me, both gazing at me like I’m the cat’s meow.

I don’t know why, but I love that Ory’s enhanced personality threw a Molotov cocktail on our pack’s seemingly stable structure.

Our lives will never be boring—that’s for sure.

“Okay, boys,” I purr, “let’s tone it down a bit, but just for now. I’m not going into heat in this beige nightmare, and we still have things to accomplish here. Don’t we, alphas?” Holy crap, look at me. I managed to find a responsible thought in the midst of a hot alpha skirmish. Yay me!

When nothing happens to end the stalemate, mostly because Ory won’t uncock his weapon-like posture, I whisper, “Ory, we aren’t going to reach tonight until we finish all the things we need to do today.”

That earns me a pensive glare from the very grumpy barbarian. He, once again, aims his displeasure at Gideon, but more productively now.

“I’ve got her, Ory. Go check on the place, make sure she’s safe,” Gideon commands, and I can’t hear or sense any doubt, but the guy would be crazy not to be a little unsettled by Ory’s next-level intensity.

Ory studies me for a second, sniffs the air like he’s actually a wild animal, and then marches out of the room.

After he’s gone, the stress bubble bursts, and I giggle while Gideon leans against the counter, his shoulders drooping.

Sage finally exhales, while gripping the island to stay on her feet.

“Wow,” Sage breathes, shaking her head.

Gideon points a cutely judgy look at me. “What exactly happened in that room with Ory?”

I shrug nonchalantly, but then I gush, “Ory’s mine— all mine—and he’s a bit feisty about it.”

Sage blurts a laugh. “A bit feisty?! He was imposing before, but now, he’s barely human… more caveman on steroids.”

With pride, I explain, “He’s the soul of the first alpha to ever exist, a fully feral, rowdy dude who’s now my alpha.

” Quieter and more reverent, I add to Gideon, “The first omega is gone—her decision. I wish it didn’t go this way, but I get why this had to happen.

It’s just me in here now, and I’m learning more about what it means to be an omega.

I can’t explain it, but I’m certain this is going to make a huge difference with everything that comes next. ”

Part of me feels like I should ask Gideon whether it’s okay that I’m keeping Ory, but this can’t be about him.

This is an omega decision, and my alphas need to deal, even if that means Gideon loses his place as first alpha.

Their hierarchy is about them, more than me, and I now understand that I can’t play favorites.

The strongest, best alpha must lead the pack, whomever that may be.

Gideon moves toward me, wrapping his hand around my neck and leaning down to lightly kiss my lips. While there, his voice enters my head. I love you. Don’t you worry, I’m alpha enough to manage all the feral beasts you bring home. It took me by surprise, but I’ve got this.

I nuzzle against him when he hugs me, pressing my words into his mind. Yes, you do, and you’ve got me. Also, I need your help with a project after we’re done here. I plant the image in his head, and he snorts.

Copy that, and better you than me.

When I catch Sage staring, I smile. “Welcome to my pack, never a dull moment around here.”

Her hand still rests on the island for support. “The soul of the first alpha? I mean, he was a lot before…”

I’m smug and completely unapologetic about it. “You should really see him in a kilt. Now, that’s a sight to behold.”

Sage dramatically fans herself. “Is it safe for me to imagine your alpha like that?”

“Oh, right. That’s a really good question.

Before some recent developments, I would say it was fine, but now, it’s probably best not to think about Ory—or any of my alphas—that way.

” I give the fabric of my wrap dress a little tug.

“One thing though, if wrap dresses are an omega’s uniform, then I’m officially declaring kilts as my alphas’ uniform. ”

Sage looks younger when she smiles warmly at Gideon. “I’m sure you still have that black kilt with the tribal designs that you wore when you were battling marauders after the apocalypse. Without doubt, that was my favorite of your costumes.”

You and me both, Sage—I think it, but I don’t say it.

Gideon’s snootiness could give Thatcher some competition. “Why yes , I do, and I’m glad to wear it whenever it pleases my omega.”

I’m imagining it already. “All the freaking time, buddy. If I need to be ready for action at all times, then my alphas better be ready too. It’s only fair.”

Sage taps her index finger on the island, as her eyes display a planning session in progress. “That would make quite a statement, wouldn’t it?”

What began as a funny idea is quickly becoming a mission statement.

“It would, wouldn’t it?” I can see it so clearly.

“We would be—we are —establishing a new era in the omegaverse, something fresh and yet ancient. I love it!” My first omega law is that no packmate shall ever wear underpants, which is entirely appropriate.

Sage’s green eyes sparkle with possibility, proving she’s solidly on board. “I know people. When you’re ready with your design, look, tartan, colors, floral something or other, and traditional versus utility—whatever you want—I’ll make it happen.”

“That’s amazing. Thanks.”

Sage glances at Gideon, some approval being sought. He inclines his head, and she turns back to me. “I’d like to talk to you, beyond prepping you for today’s project. Would you mind having lunch with me?”

Gideon stares at me, and I know what’s being asked.

Do I feel comfortable being alone with Sage?

Really, that’s not quite accurate, because Gideon will be close or someone else will.

After all, if Gideon doesn’t hover enough, Ory will have a thing or two to say—most likely growl—about it, while unleashing his not-so-inner barbarian.

“That’s fine. We should talk.”

“Wonderful. I appreciate it.”

Gideon finishes preparing our lunch and carries the plates to the unsurprisingly beige dining room. Sage and I sit together, opening our bottles of water.

Before leaving, Gideon pauses. “I’ll be close.”

“I know.” I wink at him and watch that fine ass as he leaves—plastic surgery or not, he’s stunning. Before Sage has a chance to say anything, I ask, “Do you know who owns this place? Because it’s…”

“Insanely beige, right?”