Page 217 of The Omega Exchange: Omnibus

He deserves time off and it is nearly midnight.

I pull my shoulders back and unlock the door.

“Dylan Carver,” a massive guy says as I open the door. He holds out an ID badge with his name and picture, which is nice since I probably wouldn’t have thought to ask for proof. He’s not as tall as Oliver, but if I had to guess I’d say he’s probably close to Miller’s height.

“Melody.” I check the hallway like someone I recognize might jump out of hiding.

Being an omega is frustrating sometimes. I was lonely in the room, but it feels even stranger to be around someone I’m unfamiliar with.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, giving me a once over. “What I don’t know is why you’re dressed like that when it’s winter in New England.”

“Wait, doesn’t the hotel have a gym?” My hands fidget for no good reason and my phone almost goes flying.

He wraps a large hand around mine and steadies it between us.

“The resort does have a gym,” he says, frowning so hard wrinkles appear on his forehead.

Maybe I used the wrong word to describe the place? I don’t know, it looks like a hotel to me, and they rent rooms, but I’m not sure why he’s frowning so hardcore over an incorrect word choice.

“Perfect.” I finally let go of the door and it closes behind me. “Would you mind leading the way?”

He releases my hand, but my face burns.

I don’t know why I’m so awkward with new people, but it’s been like this my entire life.

I think I missed out on proper socialization or something as a kid. My mom has always been hard to deal with. She never wanted to be around other people, and until I went to school, I’d hardly ever even played with another child.

“Of course,” he says, extending a tattooed forearm. “I never would’ve imagined an omega asking for the gym.”

His large black watch slides around his wrist as he scratches at his ridiculously handsome jaw. His dark brown hair is shaved on the sides and longer on top. He has a short beard in the same color and it crunches as he swipes at his face.

“Well, now you can,” I say, and suddenly I’m the one frowning. That sounded like something my mother would say. A shiver runs down my spine. “Thank you. I know it’s late and this is probably the last thing you want to do.”

I give him a polite smile. Thinking of ending up like my mom is enough to put the fear of God into me.

“Nah, really I’ve got nothing better going on. I was flirting with the night receptionist, but that was mostly to keep myself awake. We’re short-staffed, so I’m pulling a double shift,” he says, pausing as we get to the end of the hallway. “Elevator or the stairs?”

“Stairs are fine.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “I knew you were going to say that.”

I give him a confused smile. He’s not in bad shape at all. He’s wearing dark jeans and the same black polo I’ve seen all the security guys in, except he’s wearing the long sleeve version with the sleeves pushed up. His broad shoulders fill it out quite nicely indeed.

My eyes dart away as I realize I was totally creeping on him.

“Let’s do it,” he grumbles, turning left to head down the flight of stairs.

“I can go back to my room if you’re short-staffed. I doubt I need security, but I did promise Miller I’d call if I left the room.”

“Nah, stop. I’m needlessly bitching. It’s kind of my thing,” he says, laughing. His country accent gets thicker. “The guys would have my damn head if they learned I let you wander around without an escort.”

I don’t know what guys he’s talking about, but my guess would be the owners.

“Do I call you Dylan or Carver?” I ask as we hit the bottom floor landing. I don’t think this is the lobby attached to the parking area, but I do think it’s the main floor of the hotel. It’s weird because of how the building is built into the cliffside.

“Whatever tickles your fancy,” he says, smirking dangerously. He shrugs. “Honestly, everyone calls me Carver. It may take a few tries to get a response if you call me by my first name.”

“Gotcha,” I reply as he leads us down a hallway I’m unfamiliar with. “Dang.” My mouth actually falls open when I catch sight of the wall of glass that frames the room we walk into.