Page 74 of The Omega Exchange: Omnibus (The Exchange)

Chapter Twenty

Wolfe

The next several days are full of erratic waves of Ana's heat. It doesn't feel like a real heat, due to the long periods where she's completely coherent.

She's not obsessed with the nest, nor does she wish to stay in it all the time like an omega in heat normally would.

It's got to be a side effect of the suppressants, but we do our best to keep her happy and well-fucked.

It's probably partially due to the fact that her real heat wasn't due until two months from now.

I swear to God, I don't know why suppressants are even in wide use.

I looked that shit up after Ana was so sick the first time.

The side effects are unreal. Everything from extreme weight loss to weight gain, headache, stomach problems, hair loss…

I mean what the fuck? It's crazy how those things are considered acceptable reactions to the medication.

The really fucked-up side effects, the ones where the omega is supposed to immediately discontinue use…

Yeah, those are a fucking shit show, too.

Ana curls in closer to my side. The television is on, playing some comic book superhero movie, but I've barely glanced at it.

Keeley Androff is sitting on the other couch, curled in close to Steele's side.

I don't know what I expected Ana's step-mom to look like, but I would have guessed wrong. She's pretty and has the exaggerated curves omegas are known for, but you can tell she's really young. She's not even twenty, and she's a widow. It blows my mind.

She's quiet, but she smiles a lot. I suppose I'd be pretty happy, too, if I got out of a marriage to Markov Androff. She's soft-spoken and a bit skittish around anyone but Soren, Merrick, and Steele.

Anastasia had a brief talk with her that ended in them both expressing their gratitude that Androff is dead.

That was two days ago. No information has been found on Dimitri's whereabouts.

If he doesn't show up fairly quickly then I don't know what we'll do.

We're eventually going to have to get back to work.

Anastasia talked to Evie on the phone for a bit last night. Even Ana is ready to get back to her job once things settle down. I'm ready for these fuckers to show up so we can clean house and move the hell on.

"I've got a hit in Indiana," Merrick says several hours later. He walks into the room with his laptop balanced on one hand. He heads over and tosses himself down next to Steele.

"On all three of them?" I ask, leaning forward. Ana snuggles closer to my side and lets out a sigh.

Soren sits up straighter in his chair. He cocks his head at an angle, looking truly animalistic and exceptionally fucking deadly. "A hit on who?" he asks in a weirdly calm tone.

"Antonov and Belini," Merrick says, tapping away on his computer. "Dimitri Abramov is not with them. Well, not in the same car. He very well could be traveling with them, but in a separate vehicle—"

"Do you have a location?" Soren asks.

"I have the license plate and direction headed," Merrick says, looking at Soren. "If I had to guess, they're aiming for Belini's childhood vacation home. It's on Lake Michigan."

"We can continue to track as we move," Steele says, rubbing his hands together. "We are moving? Right, boss?"

"I am not your boss," Soren says, narrowing his cold blue eyes. "We are not a team."

"Of course not," Steele says, winking like a lunatic. He squeezes Keeley's knee, nodding over to Soren. "Not a team. Pssh. Did you hear that?"

Keeley giggles, hiding behind her hand. Her dark brown curls bounce as she shakes her head.

"You think this is funny, little one?" Soren muses, sounding completely amused. He leans forward, quirking an eyebrow at the omega.

"No," Keeley says, staring at her lap.

"Come here," Soren says, raising a finger and curling it for her to come to him. He continues murmuring something else, but Russian is not one of the languages I speak.

The bubbly omega looks downright terrified as she shuffles over to him.

"We've been over this," Soren says, lifting her into his lap. His heavily tattooed arms flex as he positions her. He runs an equally tattooed finger over her cheek. "You're never to fear me."

"Okay," she agrees.

I look down at Ana. Her eyes are wide, but she seems intrigued to see "The Slow Death" as they call him, can be soft when the occasion calls for it.

Vik and Cas come in, chatting amongst themselves, and freeze when they spot all of us congregating together.

"Would you mind helping Keeley pack up her things?" Soren asks Anastasia.

She blinks at him for several long seconds before she pushes herself up off the couch. "Come on. I'll help you pack."

I slap Anastasia's ass on the way by and she chuckles. They head up the stairs and out of sight. Once the door closes Soren says something to Vik in Russian. Vik replies and my jaw gets tight.

There are six very capable men in this room, but it's suddenly turned into a one-on-one between the cousins. They continue talking back and forth.

Steele catches my eyes. He doesn't look pleased either.

"Once again for the rest of the class?" I ask, stretching back and crossing my leg over the other to hide my frustration.

"They'll be heading out as soon as they're packed up," Vik says, scratching his jaw. "Soren has an oath to fulfill."

"Yeah, what are you going to do about your boss, boss?" Steele asks, smirking like he's enjoying the frustration on Soren's face.

"That's none of your concern. Nor is that who my promise involves," Soren snaps. "Pack your things or stay behind. It's no matter to me." With that he promptly stomps out of the room.

"I suppose it's too much to ask that Dimitri Abramov died along the way?" Cas says in a hopeful tone. "If he's not with the others, then maybe they double crossed him?"

"You speak Russian?" Merrick says, frowning as he closes his computer.

"Not very well and only the basics, but their names were easy enough to pick out," Castro admits, looking to Vik for guidance or possibly an answer to his original question.

"If he's dead, Soren will tell us as soon as he finds them. He'll be sure to extract all pertinent information if it's feasible," Vik tells us. His eyes bounce between me and Cas. "I'd almost prefer he just shows so we can end this once and for all and be sure about it."

"Damn right," Steele says, clapping Vik on the back as he heads for the stairs. "Divide and conquer. Either way, those fuckers time is up."

"Agreed," I murmur.

The house is quieter than normal once Soren, Keeley, and the mercs head out. It's late the next night and the four of us are lounging in the living room.

Cas is on his laptop. Vik is asleep on the couch. Anastasia is lying with her feet on my lap and her head on Vik's chest.

The feelings of contentment that pulse through the bond are wild.

It's an unreal feeling being able to differentiate not only Ana's emotions, but also Cas's and Vik's.

The television echoes around the space, but it's nice having the extra room.

We're going to need a house, especially since I'd like for us to have a couple of kids at some point. Two or three seems like a good number.

My stomach growls even though we had dinner two hours ago. I haven't worked out since we've been here, and if I'm not careful my eating habits will eventually catch up. I snicker to myself. I'm not about to let that happen.

"I'm going to grab some leftovers," I tell Anastasia, lifting her feet out of my lap.

"You're a bottomless pit," Cas says, chuckling.

"He is," Ana agrees, snuggling deeper into Vik's chest.

"I'm not going to deny it." I laugh. "Do either of you want anything?"

They both decline.

I head for the kitchen, grabbing the pan of casserole out of the oven.

I've got no clue what it is, but it was awesome the first time and I'm about to devour the hell out of it again.

I think it's some type of beef stroganoff.

I grab a plate out of the cabinet and a spoon out of the drawer, when movement catches my attention outside the window.

I know better than to react. I don't make it obvious that I've seen anything.

In all seriousness it's likely a deer. They're all over these woods, and even during winter they're plentiful enough that you'll see them trying to eat flowers out of your flowerbed.

I toss some food onto the plate and head to shut off the light.

I duck down the hallway and click that off, too.

I'm not taking any chances. I head to the laundry room which is the closest location I know of with a weapon.

The room is dark, but my hand instantly wraps around the cold steel when I reach into the cabinet.

Vik prefers the Glock 19, but I've got an affinity for the 17. I prefer the weight, and although the barrel length makes almost no difference on accuracy it's what I like. It's more of a comfort issue.

I also appreciate the extra couple bullets, but let's be real. There's more than one way to skin a cat, or in this case kill an asshole.