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Omen

A Year To The Day After Saylor Entered The Facility

A merica has been kind to Valor and me.

I love it.

No complaints.

Except the ale is trash, and fish and chips never hits the same way.

However, I’m adaptable.

I’d put up with much worse turmoil to keep Saylor happy. Her nervous energy filters through the bond as we sit in the tattoo shop. I’m covered in ink, so it took getting creative, but I’m now sporting Saylor’s teeth print right over my heart.

She had to bite around the hourglass, but I like the symbolism. My tattoo has only a few grains of sand left in the top of the hourglass, and at the time it felt accurate to how little life I had left to live. It’s almost like her energy surrounds those few remaining grains of sand, trapping me forever in the land of the living.

Valor slaps me on the back, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “When did you turn into such a sentimental fuck?”

“Hell if I know.” I snort and shake my head. Leo and Shaw are crowded around our omega, but I squat in front of her. “Are you truly sure you want to mark up that beautiful virgin skin?”

I’m mostly giving her an out in case she’s changed her mind. I was going to get her teeth print no matter what, and I don’t want her to feel pressured to go through with her tattoo, simply because I did.

“I have three sets of canines permanently scarred into my skin,” Saylor says, rolling her brilliant hazel eyes. “Yes, I’m positive. I want your bite on the opposite wrist from Valor’s.”

Goddamn.

She really does take my breath away. No one has ever loved me the way she does, and it’s more addictive than any drug. Hell, I failed to ever pick back up smoking, simply because she scrunched her nose and said I don’t know how I feel about kissing a smoker.

* * *

“It’s a known fact,” Troy, the tattoo artist says, putting down his machine. “Women sit better for tattoos. It’s like the pain doesn’t faze them. I’ve seen women send emails, fall asleep, read a book. They just don’t seem to notice.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” Shaw says to me, laughing. “Anything near your ribs is the fucking worst.”

Valor studies Saylor’s wrist. “Or maybe he’s just a baby when it comes to pain. Remember how he used to love hazing me about having my injuries tended?”

Saylor grins. “All right, stop giving my beta hell. It’s time for our anniversary dinner.” She looks at Valor. “And you were kind of a wimp about the antiseptic cream, but can I just say how thankful I am that you all get a lot less injuries these days?”

She laughs, and the bond fills with her happiness.

I can’t wait to spend another fifty years with that woman by my side.

Ah yes, and maybe breed her a time or two… We would make some really fucking cute kids.

* * *

I promised to keep the Mercenaries for Hire series childfree in the main storyline and epilogues. It’s why I separated certain books out with the A Very Pregnant Omega Finds Her Pack series. With that being said, if you’d like to read the extended bonus epilogues where Saylor and her guys procreate…