Page 10 of The Omega Exchange: Omnibus (The Exchange)

Chapter Nine

Everly

"Are you done?" Murphy asks. His dark eyes stare into mine. It sends a shiver through my entire body. Dominance rolls off him in waves, and it makes me want to stretch out in offering.

I give him a nod. The pants are making me sweat, or maybe it's Tom Murphy and the way he looks at me.

"Jesus Christ," Murphy says, sliding out of the booth. His gaze scans the tables around us. A low, feral growl rumbles out of his chest. Turning back to me, he continues, "Now, little one, let's go before I have to murder someone."

A table full of men watches us intently.

Their heads are leaned together, and it's clear they're talking about us.

My face instantly heats. Murphy pulls me to the edge of the bench and grabs my jacket.

He tosses the heavy thing over one shoulder and lifts me out of the booth. "All right, up you go."

My body wraps firmly around his front, and I bury my face in his chest. His gasoline scent fills my nostrils.

I bite back a whimper. This is the horrifying part of being an omega.

Our impulses and biological responses are so strong it's difficult to hold back physical reactions.

This close to a heat, it's basically impossible.

"Dude," a guy with shaggy blond hair says. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Murphy grunts. I'm pretty sure his hand leaves my back to flip them off. They laugh, and Tom stomps us out of the cafeteria. My back lands against the wall a few feet down a hallway I don't recognize.

"You're very pretty," Tom says.

My heart flutters at his words, and my legs tighten around his waist.

"You are too," I whisper, then blanch. My face falls to his strong chest, and I groan. My brain is obviously not working.

Tom laughs. "You're an absolute treasure. I hope you know that."

The men here are certainly a different type than I'm used to. My mind files through dismissive comments, things I can say to deflect the discomfort that comes from being complimented.

My eyes slide shut, and I whisper, "Thank you. When you say it, I really believe you mean the words."

Tom brushes his cheek against mine, marking me with his scent, and I don't mind a bit.

"You should," he rumbles in his deep, gravelly tone. His dark brown eyes are extremely expressive. I'm not an expert on the male species, but I'm pretty sure that look is a combination of longing and desire. His lips brush mine in a light tease of a kiss. My legs tighten around his strong form.

He lifts me and carries me down the hall.

The snow pants are hot, and combined with the heat of Tom's body, I feel like I could combust. My perfume radiates in the air.

Tom slams open a door and walks us into a small security office.

A desk with monitors sits on one side of the room and a couch takes up most of the other.

My eyes bug when I spot Connor.

"Hey, boss," a voice I don't recognize calls from the hallway. A younger guy with short black hair approaches. "We've got a situation with one of the omegas." He takes several large steps back when he spots me. "Oh, I mean we can probably handle it…"

Murphy grumbles under his breath, but puts me down on his computer chair. His eyes fly to Connor. "You'll keep an eye on Everly?"

"Yes," Connor agrees, standing up and coming closer. "I needed to speak with Miss Chastain anyway."

"Stay with Connor or one of the others unless you're in your room," Tom says, leaning over and giving my cheek another nuzzle.

"I will," I assure him. He nods, shooting a look at his packmate before he spins to leave. The door closes, and suddenly I'm alone in a small space with Connor, who I've only met once before. Then again, I met Murphy yesterday, too, so I guess it's all relative.

Connor has several files in his hand and he holds them out to me.

"What's this?" I ask, suddenly on high alert.

There's no way they figured it out… Right?

"The match you were originally assigned hasn't arrived yet. I've been considering the issue. I think it's better to give you options now rather than wait until the last minute," Connor says, nodding to the files.

"Right," I agree. "I should probably have a back-up plan."

"Everly…" Connor sighs, shaking his head.

"It feels extremely unprofessional to mention it now, but from the moment we met you my pack wanted to court you.

I stood in the way of that. It felt like an abuse of power.

My secretary spent most of the morning assuring me you're an adult who can make her own choices. "

"What?"

"Most women are afraid of Tom," Connor says. His eyebrows rise like I should know this. "But you seemed comfortable with him when you came in. I assumed you might be open to—"

"Tom is great," I cut him off. I'm so confused. "Why would anyone be afraid of him? He's a bit pushy about warm clothes, but—"

Connor chuckles. "Murphy doesn't care about anyone, let alone say a single word to indicate he's concerned with them catching a cold."

"He's also extremely bossy about vegetables," I grumble, still unsure how I feel about that exchange at lunch. I liked it a little too much. I'm getting attached again, which I know from experience is a great way to get my heart broken.

"I have something I'd like your opinion on, if you wouldn't mind?" Connor asks. "It'll give us the chance to get to know each other a little better. You'll need to feel comfortable with all of us if you do decide to give us a chance…"

Did he insinuate he'd like me to consider his pack? And if so, what the hell am I going to do when it's time to tell them about my secret? Anxiety pulses through my system, and I do my best to hold it back.

Connor's nose twitches, and he takes a step away from me. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable…"

"No, crap," I whisper, covering my face with the folders. I take a deep breath and lower the files. "I'd very much like that. Please don't think… I'm sorry, I'm really bad at this."

"I think we're both trying a little too hard to be on our best behavior." Connor gives me a charming grin, and my thighs clench together. He takes my hand. "Let's be ourselves so there's no pressure."

I blow out a ragged breath, giving him a shaky nod. "Is your pack in these files?"

"We are," Connor agrees.

"Wherever you wanted to take me… Can we make a stop at my suite on the way?" I ask. "Since we're being honest, I'm on the verge of sweating to death in these snow pants."

"Of course," Connor says, offering me an indulgent grin. I smile back and let him lead me off to our next adventure.

Connor and I stop by my room so I can change, and then head up to the library. It's every bit as awe-inspiring as it was the first time I saw it.

The design is intriguing. The room is staggered in three levels.

The second and third floors are open to the first floor, with heavy wooden banisters.

There's a seating area on the bottom level and the roof there goes all the way up to the top of the third story.

Each floor is smaller than the one below, but the effect is incredible.

Connor and I are on the third floor in a small area that I didn't explore yesterday.

"Now, this is going to seem a bit shady," he says, looking bashful as hell. He steps over to the edge of the wall and pulls a book. There's a light clicking sound, and the entire shelf pulls out like a door. "I promise it's safe."

My chest heaves as Connor places his hand on my lower back and guides me toward the opening.

There's a small passageway, and a few steps inside Connor flips a light switch.

The hallway brightens, and I let out a small gasp.

It's a freaking hidden passageway. I know from experience these things always lead to the most amazing finds.

"When my fathers purchased the lodge, everything in the building came with it. My brothers and I grew up here. We found this one day when my older brother was looking for a book to do a report on. I'd love your opinion." Connor opens a door to our left.

"Absolutely," I say, giddy with excitement.

The hallway continues down. It eventually curves out of sight, but we walk into the small room. It's filled with old steamer-style trunks, boxes, and a large wooden chest.

"Holy crap," I murmur. "Do you know what's inside these?"

Connor nods, stepping over to the wooden chest. "This one is filled with diaries, books, and trinkets the original owners left behind. Or perhaps they simply forgot this room existed? I was hoping you might help us find appropriate homes for these."

A hollow ache forms in my gut. I'm not sure why it feels like a betrayal, but I hoped he wanted more than to sell the stuff for quick cash.

"You want to sell it?" I ask before I can hold back the words.

Connor frowns. "It doesn't feel like it's mine to sell," he says, scratching his jaw and glancing around.

"Perhaps some things, if they have no educational or cultural value.

But I don't know what might be museum-worthy from what's junk.

I'm afraid if I don't take care of it soon it could sit in here and continue to age for another fifty years before someone stumbles across it again. "

"I'd love to help," I assure him. Stepping forward I grip his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. "And for the record, I agree that would be an awful disservice to all the history hiding in this room."

"Perhaps it'll give you an excuse to stick around after your heat," Connor says.

He stares down at me. His pupils are huge.

My stomach flutters with butterflies as he grins.

He brushes his fingers over my cheek, and my breath catches.

Dipping his head, he nuzzles his cheek against my hair.

My heart tries to pound right out of my chest.

Maybe the magical Christmas spirits heard my wishes after all.