Page 6 of Small Town Shy Omega (Applewood Falls #1)

“Every Omega has a goddess inside of her,” Josh finally rasped, and I was so glad to finally hear him open up. Be vulnerable, share his true feelings. About how incredible I was. “You’re more radiant than most, Layla. Stronger and far, far more powerful. Others don’t see your halo, but we do.”

“But…” My voice trailed off, and I felt very appreciated—yet also very attacked, very cornered and confused—at that moment. “Why?”

“Why do you think we pledge ourselves to your service, Layla? You’re a queen, and re-fencing your garden, or re-shingling your home is an honor. It’s what any Alpha worth his fucking salt would do, baby.”

Dreydon nodded sagely, sipping wine. “Kings work for their queen, baby. That’s what you are—you could build a million-dollar company, write a bestselling novel, or travel the world.”

“You’re an Omega queen,” Blake said with a shrug, as if this was the spot obvious thing ever.

I set my wine glass down. “But I run a glassworks studio. You didn't mention that. Are you saying I couldn’t build my glassworks business up to even greater success?”

“You can do anything: scale your artistry, sell more amazing glass vases than any other artisan the world.” Dreydon was adamant on that fact.

I turned to Blake, fanning myself with the optometrist’s eye exam sheet. “Blake,” I whispered, heat panging through me, “before I went out to lunch with Irene today, I was at the optometrist…”

I told Blake about being at the optometrist, my tears marring my vision, and at that moment, I felt like a little girl again. A little girl, reading a storybook in her bed with her grandpa…

“There was a time,” I sniffled as I finished up my story, “when I thought that little girl was gone. Alphas didn't see the girl I used to be, they only viewed the Omega they could use as a slave.”

Dreydon nodded. Listening, tenderly and patiently—though not too patiently, not intensely, like he was a white knight type or anything. “I hear you,” he growled punctually.

Short, sweet, nothing excessive… He just… heard me. Didn't excessively praise me, didn't bow down before me. Just the way I liked… at this moment.

I pitted my eyes to Blake and Josh. “You see me. I appreciate it, and I want to let you know, I feel seen. Thank you.”

Days later, I picked out some new chairs at the farmers’ market.

My old dining room chairs, the ones with fabric seats, befell a terrible misfortune when I dyed the seats with root dye and the dye wasn’t strong enough, so half of it bled out. All I was trying to do was attempt a fun craft project.

So, my living room chairs were half-stained, and they gave me the utmost embarrassment. Some moments, I was upset my Alphas hadn’t commented on how ugly they looked: instead of cute, country cottage chairs, mine were a tie-dye catastrophe. I wished they’d just be honest.

So I picked out some new chairs, and Josh, Blake, and Dreydon lugged them home.

I gazed at the new set, then had an idea.

“I think I want to dye the seats,” I said breathlessly, looking at my Alphas.

For many minutes, I didn't even realize I was doing it: testing my Alphas. They saw how catastrophically my last dye job had gone, they’d carried my old dining room chairs to the garbage.

They knew I could not be trusted with dye, and I was subtly poking at them.

To see what they’d do. If they’d let me dye these brand-new, beautiful chairs.

Dreydon stared straight into my soul.

“With root dye?” he asked grittily.

“Yes,” I said, my words floating out, and by now I knew they were onto me. “I think I might cut some root, dry it, turn it to a fine paste, then dye my new chairs. I’d just like them so much more if they were dark gray.”

I didn't know what to expect: maybe my Alphas would entertain my fancy, which I certainly didn't want. Or maybe they’d allow me to dye one chair, just to get the impulse out of my system.

I actually didn't wish to dye anything now, seeing as cutting up the roots to turn to paste took hours, and I wanted to finish my crocheting project and make a fresh batch of sherbet cookies.

The voice came out, low and growly and manly.

“No,” Dreydon growled out, and I practically threw myself at him.

“Thank you.” I spoke calmly, suppressing the urge to weep…

in gratitude. So silly, I thought, I could’ve just said I didn't wanna dye these chairs, but I wanted them to stop me. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry for…

” I couldn’t really say testing you, but I had no other words to use. So I let my words trail off.

Dreydon growled, lifting up the back of my hair like a pigtail. “Testing your Alphas, eh?”

Josh smirked, walking to my backside.

He massaged my shoulders—and I moaned, wilted, and mewled.

“It’s okay, little Layla,” Josh purred, and I felt—like I wanted freak out, turn into Whiskers and dart out of there—but I also felt… Something deep and low thrumming in my belly, something that let me know that these Alphas held the control, not me. “You’re our Omega.”

I went to bed that night, and I was tortured by wonderful dreams.

Although, at times I debated whether I’d gotten myself in over my head, whether my Alphas were a bit more feral, and masculine than I’d anticipated.

“I sense that Blake is quite kind,” I murmured, turning over in my nest. A blanket fell over my head, my cheek on my softest pillow. “But what happens if my Omega purrs too aggressively at him, will his Alpha attack me? I couldn’t bear that… No, I must keep my Omega under control.”

As the pink moonlight of Applewood Falls spilled into my nest, I dreamt of my Alphas. Josh, Blake, and Dreydon. Each was protective, and while they all had different attributes, they all performed manual labor.

Masculine labor, I giggled, admitting that maybe, say, re-fencing a garden or re-shingling my cottage roof wasn’t actually anything I was good at, and know what? That was okay, I told myself, my head nodding as the ferryman took me off to dreamland.

“I’m pretty great at what I do ,” I reminded myself, my voice husky and wan with sleep. “And so why do I need to re-shingle a roof? I’m a queen, after all—my Alphas told me so.”

With visions of my strong, buff Alphas in my mind, I fell asleep.

My three Alphas just continued doing nice things for me. When I grew tired after rain fell on me during a walk, Blake ran me a bubble bath.

He didn't ask—didn't need to be told to, or hinted at or suggested to. He simply… saw my damp hair and clothes, instructed that I strip in my nest, then ran me a bath.

Closing his eyes, he even carried me to the tub.

During my baths, I often felt like I didn't have to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. I regressed to an earlier stage of life, and nothing mattered but peace, tranquility, and calm.

“Cute,” Dreydon muttered as I exited, and I tip-toed past to my nest.

Closing my nest nook door, I sat and did some guided mediation. Then I put on Thalia song, which many Alphas would’ve snickered at. Not mine.

After, I took my crystals out to recharge in the cloudy afternoon light… And when Josh came out, and after we’d debated whether to use the BBQ tonight, Josh finally held up his hands in defeat.

“I let you win, Layla.” And he smiled, then trailed off inside.

I sat, meditating in a cross-legged position, nothing but shock and joy on my face.

Oh, did Josh actually just let me… win the little argument, no it wasn’t truly an argument but it was certainly a small conflict—I didn't wish to use the BBQ, for the smoke sometimes drifted up infiltrating my safe nest, and Josh…

Josh had wanted to grill my salt-free chicken breast tonight, instead of poaching it like usual.

All of my Alphas ate what I ate, and so if I had poached chicken and a head of broccoli, and a kid’s bowl of rice, they ate the same.

They might’ve doubled the rice portion, but still they weren’t chowing down on gross burgers, or face-sized steaks while I fucked starved.

Possibly fed up with the tastelessness of my three-nights-per-week mandatory salt-free poached chicken dinner, Josh had wanted to use the grill.

I feared the smoke, wafting up in a great black cloud. It clung to my cottage walls, sneaking in through the cracks in my window. I am never safe from smoke, I knew intuitively.

Instead of arguing with me or throwing up his hands and stomping off—as one pack had done, making my inner Omega very scared—Josh simply shrugged, and agreed.

In my cross-legged meditative position, a very non-Zen giggle reached my lips. I laughed, then I had to throw my purple hair back and laugh some more.

“Josh… gets me,” I said, tossing up my hands in a frustrated surrender. “I can’t win with these guys—I poke, I try to see if they’re dangerous, if they’ll react… And they don’t, unless they’re turning me on. Josh let me win the damn BBQ argument. Well, if that’s not a good man.”

That night, we ate poached chicken, broccoli, but I compromised and allowed Josh to bake three potatoes, one for each Alpha.

Halfway through dinner, I got hungry and very quiet, and I felt my Omega get teary because now she wanted a baked potato, but I’d lectured the guys on not eating baked potatoes so close to bedtime.

Now, I wanted a potato, like a girl dinner or something, and I sat frowning because all my Alphas ate them and not me.

“This is great,” Blake growled, turning to Josh.

Josh couldn’t help but agree. “We have to incorporate these baked potatoes into our Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night dinner schedules more often. I’m getting a little hungry.”

Dreydon looked my way, and I sat pouting, my lower lip pushed out.

He smirked, then turned to Blake. “Pass the butter, Blake?”

“Oh, most certainly,” Blake said, slyly passing Dreydon the butter. Dreydon smoothed some onto his potato.

I frowned, my Omega pouting and wanting to shed tears.

“Guys,” I pouted, not daring voice my frustrations.