Page 14 of Let It Snow (Eden’s Omegaverse #7)

In the hallway I see Lake open a metal cabinet set into the wall, fitted with a small keypad. He takes out… a gun belt.

I freeze, staring.

Lake gives me an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. I carry concealed, just in case someone from my past ever shows up to hurt me.

It already happened once." He breaks off, hesitates, then adds, "I had to use my gun that time. And since people from my past still have family, and you never know what someone might try, I decided this was the safer option. I know not everyone agrees, but in my situation it’s the lesser evil. If I hadn’t had a gun back then…

my two sons could have been killed." He lets out a quiet breath, almost apologizing. "I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but my circumstances were so extreme there wasn’t any other way. "

I don’t comment. It’s his decision. I don’t need a gun; no gun can hurt me if I don’t allow it.

Wait, where does that cockiness come from?

The thought is kind of intense. I almost forgot about my power, for a second feeling just… normal.

I shake it off quickly. Nah, not me.

The miracle will never materialize.

Lake and I step outside. He gets into his big navy SUV parked at the side of the driveway.

As I take the seat beside him, I notice Aiden and Snow standing on the porch, watching us.

Lake smirks, lifts a hand, and waves to Aiden.

"Snow probably wanted to come with us too, but he’s the quiet type." He laughs softly, with a trace of embarrassment. "The trouble is, if you don’t say out loud what you want, you don’t get it." He throws Snow a playful wink. Snow doesn’t react, just stands calmly and keeps watching us.

Lake starts the engine, and we pull out.

He gives me a brief glance, like he knows I want to ask something, but I stay quiet.

His voice is light as he says, "You know, when Snow was little, we thought he might be autistic. The doctors said it was unlikely, since TM kids are never diagnosed with autism. But Snow didn’t start talking until he was almost five.

And when he did, the things he said were…

unusual. We took him to a lot of specialists, and they concluded that he had extremely strong synesthesia.

That means he experiences the world through senses that overlap with each other.

Every color has a certain sound to him, just like a smell might have a color, or the other way around.

A sound can have a taste, even shapes can taste in their own way.

When he looks at the moon, he hears something like a soft gong.

When he looks at grass, he hears the color green as a melody, and a melody can carry a scent.

He also sees auras around people, their emotions coloring the energy around them.

The doctors said the overwhelming number of stimuli he lived with was the reason for his quiet disposition.

It was his way of dealing with sensory overload, shutting the world out, seeking isolation.

Crowds used to give him headaches and even dizziness, which is why we homeschooled him.

We wanted to spare him from overstimulation.

Over the years his control improved. He learned to live with it and function normally.

But still… he’s not very talkative. That has its upsides and…

downsides." He gives a quick smirk. "But that’s not the whole truth about him. You may have heard that, among other things, he’s a bit like your brother Moon, clairvoyant. Some would even say he’s a seer.

Wow, so that’s Snow’s power?

He’s like my brother?

"Among other things"?

Interesting.

For some reason, I’m not entirely surprised. It’s like that knowledge was already sitting somewhere in the back of my mind.

But I don’t respond, feeling strangely stirred for a reason I can’t even pinpoint. I also have no idea why Lake went into this whole spiel about Snow in the first place.

It’s not like I gave any indication I was interested in hearing more about his oldest alpha son… or did I?

Lake starts talking a little about the area, the suburbs, and the small satellite towns scattered around. Their house is in one of those, about an hour and a half from downtown.

We drive maybe twenty minutes, and the whole time my thoughts keep circling back to…

Snow. Predictably.

Staring out the window at the trees and buildings sliding past, I feel weighed down by my situation, my damaged memory, my past, and… the money I somehow received.

Snow offered me nesting materials, a clear declaration of his interest. But what if this info about me being generously ‘compensated’ for my mafia sexual duties changes something for him?

It really may look like I was just a paid whore who decided to be the capo’s plaything for a sweet load of money.

What does Snow think of me now? Would he still consider me a romantic prospect?

Given this weird situation with multiple mafia bank transfers, I really should be careful, even though it’s hard. I just desperately want normal romantic interactions, to be a regular omega pursued by a cute alpha…

For a minute or two, I dive into my favorite fantasy of being just some ordinary guy who slips through a crowd without anyone noticing. No strange powers to hide from the world. No past as a mafia captive.

But oh well, that’s just a dream, unreal, empty.

It is what it is.

I’m a former mafia bride. Would any alpha want someone with baggage like that anyway?

I dart a quick glance at Lake, completely unaware of my musings, just driving innocently, with a soft smile on his lips.

But my head just keeps rolling, obsessing, stressing. To be honest, I don’t even know what tomorrow will bring.

The FBI could show up at the door wanting me to testify; after all, my husband was arrested. Or the other mafia members (Rocco Ferro?) could send guys after me to settle the score. Or there could be some other reason that forces me to move out, to run. Nothing is set in stone, my future hazy.

I’m just a shadow for now, a ghost of someone whose story hasn’t been fully told. There’s no place in my world for a romance, right? And yet here I am, worrying foolishly about what Snow thinks about me, somebody I barely even know. Crazy.

We drive a few more minutes until we reach a big shopping mall.

As we pull into the underground parking garage, I notice a large group of people minding their business near parked cars, and a wave of unease hits me again. Instinctively, I shrink into myself, pulling the baseball cap down low over my forehead, shading my face.

What if someone recognizes me? Calls the police: Oh, I saw Anzo Ferro’s husband, maybe you want to ask him a few questions? Or posts me on social media and the mafia spots me?

Lake notices my nervousness right away.

"Listen," he says gently, "there are a couple of stores in the side wings of the mall. Quieter ones. We’ll take a back hallway to avoid the main corridor."

I don’t want to make a scene, so I follow him out of the car.

Sure enough, there’s a side elevator at the edge of the garage, not the big one in the middle.

Lake presses the button for the third floor.

But just as the doors are closing, two alphas stumble in.

They reek of booze, talking loudly about some baseball game. When the elevator jolts upward, one of them finally looks our way and whistles.

"Well, look at this, Al. Two smokin’ hot omegas in one ride. Don’t see that every day."

Lake stays calm, but I feel a rush of stress and shame. My eyes go straight to the security camera in the corner. Maybe someone is watching, maybe not.

Both men grin at us, slimy and loud. Their energy way too intense.

Shit. If they try anything… what am I supposed to do? Use my power? I’ve been taught my whole life to stay hidden, keep my head down, avoid confrontation. And protect my secret.

One of the alphas leans toward Lake.

"So where are you pretty things heading, huh? Need us to show you around? Keep you safe?"

"Thanks," Lake answers smoothly, "but we know the way."

The elevator is almost at the third floor.

"Oh, come on. Everything’s better with company. You never know what could happen to two cuties like you."

The doors chime open.

I bolt out first, eager to get out of the camera’s view and away from these creeps. But of course, they follow us.

Heat rushes through me. The elevator has dumped us into a side corridor; it’s empty except for us. The main walkway is maybe fifty yards away.

"Wait up, sweethearts. There’s a nice little bar just down here. How about a quick drink with us?" one of them drawls, practically blocking Lake’s way.

My eyes sweep the walls until I spot another security camera over the elevator doors.

Perfect.

It costs me no effort. In less than a second, the camera crumbles to dust, black grit sprinkling to the floor. No one notices.

"Thanks, but we really have to go," Lake says, starting to turn.

That’s when one alpha grabs his arm. The other reaches for his braid.

A surge of rage hits me like wildfire.

Before anything else can happen, before Lake can even react, I explode.

The first alpha goes flying, and glides nearly fifty feet before crashing into a trash bin.

Silence falls on us.

Lake spins, staring at me, eyes wide. So does the second alpha.

"What the fuck," the man rasps. "You little bitch, what did you—"

I only smile darkly. In half a heartbeat I send him flying too. He slams into the far wall and lands hard on top of his buddy, both sprawled out and motionless.

Lake looks from them to me, then again to the alphas, his mouth twitching into a slightly uneasy smile. He swallows with some difficulty, before saying,

"Umm. Well, that surely settles the matter. I think we’d better get out of here. Mall security’s gonna have some questions if they catch wind of this."

He gestures lightly toward a side passage, steering me away.