Page 126 of Omega's Flight

"Everyone knows what an omega is like," he snapped. "You'd have to behave, is all."

"I did behave. I did everything a good omega is supposed to do. I denied you nothing!" I gritted out through clenched teeth. "And you threw me around the room and choked me and killed our baby!" I regretted the words as soon as I said them, because they weren’t true, but I didn’t know how to take them back. Tears escaped and poured down my cheeks and I dashed them angrily away with on hand. "Go to work, Degan. Just...go." Then I turned and strode away, trying desperately not break into a run. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

When I just about to disappear into the trees beside the daycare, I looked back, but I couldn't see him.

Somehow, that didn't make me feel any better.

C H A P T E R 8 8

I 'd collected myself by the time I got back home. Ori was sitting in the rocking chair on his porch, waiting. "Was wondering if you'd run off on me," he joked. Rose made a sleepy noise and he shushed her, the chair creaking slightly as he rocked her.

"No, just had to deal with the ex-mate. He's at work now with Jason's mate, but I'll have to pick him up when it's time to get the pups again after school." I climbed the stairs and took the other chair. "She's still not asleep?"

He shook his head. "Gettin' there, but not yet." He smiled down at her, his little miracle pup.

"If you want, we can get together tomorrow instead," I offered.

"No, she'll go down soon. Just stubborn like her Pa." He rocked some more, humming softly into the still spring air.

There was something so calming about Ori. I enjoyed him as a friend and—potentially—as a business partner, but just being around him was relaxing. It reminded me a little of Jason, and I wondered if he had some of the same talent as Jason did.

If I had one, we hadn't discovered it yet.

"There, I think she's off," Ori said softly. "Come on, let's get some work done while she's giving us a break." He stood up, careful not to jostle her, and we went back into his house. Ori laid her in the beautiful cradle Bram had loaned him and tiptoed away when she didn't immediately wake up again. "I'll make us some tea. Your paper is on the shelf there, if you want to grab some. I've got my notebook."

We sneaked into the kitchen and, while Ori put the water on to boil, I laid out our materials.

This was Holland’s idea, and—oddly—Jesse Mutch’s. A book, he’d said. For children and pups, to tell the stories of our people. To get our stories out there, into the human world. It was one of my jobs now, working on this story—with hours logged for credits and everything. Ori too, though he was supposed to be on his baby leave.

"What story do you want to start with?" I asked. Might as well start right away, while we waited for the tea to be steeped.

"I'm not fussy, so if you have a favorite, we can do that one. But I was thinking it might be a good idea to tell how we came to be for starters. And that's a nice story."

"It's my pups' favorite." It would be a good one to start with. "How do we do this, do you know?"

Ori shrugged and came back to perch on the edge of his chair, one ear cocked for the sound of the water boiling. "I kinda got the idea that you have to pick your story and write it down, then divide it into how many pictures you want to have. Then you figure out what each picture should be. That girl up in Personnel, the one that talked to the publisher? She said that twenty-four pages would be a good size, but that some of the pictures could cross more than one page if we wanted to save time. I have the notes somewhere—she said there were sizes you had to make them."

Twenty-four—that was a lot of pictures. I could do it, but when would I have the time? I still needed to earn enough credits to look after the pups, especially since I suspected that all Degan would do was feed them. And while their clothing all fit right now, Ann's appetite had been growing steadily, so I was expecting another couple of months of constantly looking for clothes that fit her.

I had to remind myself that we weren't on any sort of schedule for this. It was a project, an idea. That's all. I propped my chin on my hand and stared off into space, trying to imagine what pictures I could draw to match the story.

"You okay?" Ori asked. "I know, it's kind of scary, isn't it? I never imagined I might be able to make money just telling stories."

"Or me, making money from my doodling."

"If that's doodling, I'm afraid to see your drawing. It'll probably jump right off the page and say hi." Ori grinned and jumped up. "Water's ready. You have a favorite?"

"You don't have chai, do you?"

"Hmmm." Ori frowned and poked through the boxes on the shelf. "I don't think so. I have berry, and there's a spicy orange one."

"The orange one is fine." I could run across to the house to get tea from my cupboards, but it would be rude and I liked the orange one too. Just not as well as the chai.

He nodded and put the teabags into the mugs, then carefully poured water over them from the pot. "Here you go. I have honey around here too, depending on where Pat put it back this morning." He grinned, taking the sting out of the complaint.

"Mates," I said in an exasperated tone and he laughed.

"Mates for sure."