Page 16 of Small Town Shy Omega (Applewood Falls #1)

Blake pointed out Perseus and Andromeda in the night sky. I wondered if I’d ever get my own constellation.

I sniffed the air, smelling something like spring blossoms, or the earthy undertones of the forest. Or pink raspberries.

What… was that?

Something was changing inside me, something rugged and feral.

My impressions of the night shifted. Was it the Alphas’ scent reaching my nose, or my own?

No, Blake smelled like cinnamon and sugar, I recalled.

And Dreydon let off whiffs of deep espresso.

I’d never sniffed anything purer or more beautiful.

Tears welled in my eyes, and I wished the pack would sweep me in their arms, and press me against their rugged, strong chests. They were like pirates, I thought. Warriors or hitmen. Timeless kings.

Their chests were so muscular and firm, I’d never feel unworthy of love again—if only I could be pressed against them. Just to rub my cheek against their strength. Find Dreydon’s hand and rub my face in it.

The smell dissipated, and the Alphas didn’t gather me into their arms. I wondered if I just smelled a scent that floated in on a breeze.

The Alphas led me back to my cottage. We enjoyed hot rhubarb tea and sherbet cookies.

Blake took me fishing again, and this time I caught a muskie—and we actually cooked it. A crackling fire warmed my face, and after eating our fish we shared a can of beans.

“Picked up this habit in England,” Blake growled, passing me the beans.

I made a face but ate them. “They’re sweet.”

“Yeah, I was backpacking through the Lake District, and after getting caught in a rainstorm in Grasmere, the poet Wordsworth’s hometown actually, all that was open was a little corner store. They had nothing nutritious. I bought a can of beans.”

Rain trickled softly overhead, and I rested my head against Blake’s shoulder. I inhaled a rich, sugary scent, and warmth and relaxation washed over me.

When we returned to my cottage Dreydon was sculpting a wooden log with a chainsaw. “Layla.” He tipped his chainsaw at me.

“Whatcha making?” I peeped at Dreydon.

“You,” Dreydon growled, revving the chainsaw once again. “Your land doesn’t have a statue of a goddess on it. I’m sculpting you.”

“Oh,” I said softly, walking into my cottage with Blake.

The statue… was so amazing, and it brought tears to my eyes.

But then terror barreled through me, because what if Dreydon used it to obligate me to him?

I confessed my fears to Blake, and over a mug of hot mint-and-sweetgrass tea, he informed me I had nothing to fear.

“Dreydon enjoys sculpting,” Blake said sweetly, poking my nose. “It’s not a big deal, he sculpts at least two statues a year.”

“Two a year?”

“Yeah,” Blake shrugged. “If you don’t like it, I’m sure Dreydon can dump it. Turn it into firewood.”

I shrugged, not wanting to betray the mourning sensation in my heart.

“No, no,” I said, shaking my purple locks out. “He doesn’t have to get rid of the statue.”

“Do you want to keep it?”

I shrugged, refusing to appear too eager. “Maybe,” I tossed out noncommittally, maintaining my composure. “Depends how it turns out.”

The statue turned out lovely.

Dreydon set it right by my nest nook window.

My eyes locked on it as I fell asleep that night, the radiant, flowing hair so lifelike.

Even my glasses were accurate, I thought, my heart beaming with warmth. Gazing upon my visage Dreydon carved with a chainsaw filled me with great peace.

When I sprained my ankle a few days later, Josh and Blake kindly installed a custom-built nature walkway around my land.

They worked tirelessly, and in less than three days I could wheel around in the makeshift wheelchair they created for me.

“Thank you,” I whispered, embarrassed I was constrained to a wheelchair. I was used to full motion of my body, and being confined to a chair made me feel like a bird who wanted to fly.

Dreydon rubbed my head, then Josh patted my back.

Blake knelt in front of my wheelchair, taking my hand.

“I know you sprained your ankle, and you’re on bedrest, little Layla,” he growled, massaging my hand, “but we couldn’t sit here without installing a nature walkway for you to see your favorite birds every morning.”

Like clockwork, my Alphas wheeled me out each morning.

The morning sunsets bathed our faces in pink, and I felt recharged.

They wheeled me around the walkway, and wind whipped my hair.

One day, I felt a little silly.

“Bye, boys,” I shouted with a wave, tearing off. My wheelchair went so fast!

With a laugh, I popped a wheelie.

“Nooooo,” Dreydon roared, charging after me.

Before I could crash and whack my head, Dreydon gripped the back of my wheelchair.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

His large, firm hand was right beside my cheek. I rubbed my cheek on it, whimpering and throbbing. My entire body trembled, and I just rubbed and rubbed because Dreydon’s calloused man hand on my sensitive face felt so good.

Hard on soft.

Rough on smooth—and truly, my face felt alive.

My glasses came off, but Blake just bent down and picked them up.

“Are we keeping the walkway?” Blake growled when my sprained ankle heeled. “And the wheelchair?”

“One of us might break our ankle,” Josh growled, looking around. “We’d better keep it.”

“No.” Dreydon looked at each Alpha, commanding authority. They’d listen to him, the most buff and tattooed. The leader. “If we need the walkway again, we’ll rebuild it. Easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy?” Blake scratched his forehead.

“Layla deserves her land,” Dreydon growled, putting his fist on Blake’s shoulder, “the way she wants it. I highly doubt she wants a wooden walkway on her property, when we could so easily disassemble it, saw the beams for firewood, and roast marshmallows to make s’mores for her tonight.”

I could hardly believe my ears.

“Yes…” My whisper trailed off. “I would like some s’mores, please.”

The Alphas worked tirelessly all afternoon.

They ripped apart the walkway—the one they’d built in just three days for my sprained ankle recovery—and soon, we were having a fire by the lakeshore.

Blake smiled, rubbing my backside. “Sweet Layla,” he growled, his voice touching something sensitive in my heart. “If you need your walkway back, we’ll simply rebuild it.”

“It was easy for us to do, Layla.” Josh smiled.

I pouted sticking up my nose. “I could build it too,” I huffed, focused on my marshmallow. “If I pleased.”

Dreydon looked at Josh, then Josh looked at Blake.

All three Alphas nodded.

“Yes,” Blake purred, eyes looking into mine. “You could, Layla. You can do anything you put your mind to, and we’re so happy to be your Alphas.”

My heart fluttered, and I had to stuff my cheeks with s’mores to prevent myself from crying.

Blake spread out sheets of crinkled paper. “Watch,” he ordered, dipping his quill in ink.

It was chilly outside, so Blake had pulled out his quill and ink and wrote poems for me.

He wrote me over nine poems, and I’d never read anything more beautiful.

“No, Layla.” The strong, powerful Blake tipped my chin up. “Don’t cry. You’ll stain your poems.”

“B-Blake,” I whispered, feeling like a fool. A fool in love… “No one’s written me poems before.”

“Your standards have been too low for too long, baby.” Blake’s voice came out in a purr, and my Omega responded to it.

“An Alpha should always write poems for his Omega. On crinkly parchment paper that will never bend. Never wilt or fade. And always with quill and ink, my lady. Quill and ink stay fresh forever.”

Blake held me all afternoon, and I had three crying sessions. First, I couldn’t believe I had poems dedicated to me. Second, Blake smelled so good… and my Omega purred, unable to control herself.

She wanted to come out, and I had to touch my crystals and whisper a prayer to the fates to keep her locked in my chest.

Third?

It’s because Blake… was crying too.

Yes, when I looked up, I saw that the strong, robust Alpha was crying… from pure emotion, from how much he loved me.

I ticked my head up. “Alpha,” I muttered, my fingertip ghosting across his scruffy cheek. “Lips on mine, please.”

“No,” Blake growled, pain and torture in his throat. “You’re… too perfect, Layla. A perfect beauty in every way.”

“My Omega wants you,” I whispered, placing his hand on my chest. “Your Alpha is purring for her. Please.”

“My Alpha must remain in his cage,” Blake growled, brooding and torturous. He looked vampiric.

“Omegas and Alphas are meant to be together,” I whispered, his hand over my heart. “Me, you. Don’t say it’s wrong, I can’t bear it.”

“Layla…” Blake’s voice trailed off, and his heavyset blue eyes centered on me. “Do you know what you… do to a man like me? An Alpha?”

“You’re good, Blake. You deserve this… My Omega. My first heat,” I whispered, my Omega furiously purring in my chest.

Blake’s jaw dropped, and a dark lash fell down his cheeks.

“Your… first heat?”

“My first heat, with a pack since I broke up with my last one,” I admitted, wanting to clarify my words. “Not my actual first heat… I’m not twenty.”

“Oh, Layla.” Blake let out a growl, the scent of ink floating in the air. “You make a grown man crazy, baby.”

“I wanna be your Omega,” I whispered in his ear, pink and purring. “Please, be my next Alpha. Help me with my heat.”

Blake threw his quill down and briskly walked away.

He left me in my poetry room, and I saw him brooding under clouds outside.

The weather was dark and tempestuous, the placid sunshine long gone. Dark clouds feathered across the sky, and all at once—

A lightning bolt cracked out, and thunder crashed all around.

The walls of my cottage shook, and I trembled and whimpered, wishing I was in my nest.

Blake stood.

He stood in the storm, hands broodingly in his pockets.

Rain swirled around him, the forest beyond dark and brooding.

He stood out there until the moon came out, a dark figure outlined against rain-slicked trees.

I touched my crescent pendant, and no energy charged through me.

Alone, scared, I scurried to my nest…