Page 92 of The Omega Exchange: Omnibus (The Exchange)

Chapter Seven

Melody

My room is lonely. It makes me feel like a giant loser to be here in this super fancy hotel and be hiding in my suite.

If I were back home, I’d be jogging around my neighborhood trying to burn off some energy before bed. I never once felt like it was dangerous to go out after dark alone.

It’s strange to hear how different life could have been if I were born into a normal pack.

The fact my fathers managed to leave my mom even after bonding blows people’s minds when they hear it. For me, it wasn’t that shocking. Then again, I was young, and I didn’t understand how determined they had to be to make that choice.

It’s pretty much unheard of, but after spending a quarter of a century dealing with her mood swings, I can firmly say that I get it. It’s not that I don’t love my mom because I do, but I’m also at a point where I can’t live my life trying to make her happy anymore.

I know it’s impossible, partially due to her mental health issues, and I also think she enjoys being unhappy, or maybe she finds comfort in the turmoil. I’m not really sure, but I’m not prepared to live like her for a lifetime.

A slow smile crosses my face when I remember the look Oliver had while he was sniffing my scent card.

Maybe it’s weird, I don’t know.

All I do know is that it’s an incredible feeling to be desired even if he went about it in a kind of bizarre way.

I roll over in the nest desperately trying to catch any hints of Miller’s scent, but I think I wallowed them away.

My heat is coming up, and I’ll be horny all the time until it hits. The only thing I’ve found to combat that is to run until I’m about to collapse.

I have curves like most female omegas, but I’ve stayed decently fit over the years because I had to learn to find ways to exhaust myself. Running is my go-to for stress relief. It keeps me active, but I used to have a bad habit of obsessing about all my problems while I ran.

I leave the nest and aim for my room. I’m sure they have a gym in the hotel. Damn, I wish I were one of those people who get into the workout zone and that’s all they can seem to focus on.

I’ve learned over the years to focus my mind on plotting scenes for my characters.

There were a lot of years where it’s embarrassing to admit, but I spent hours of my life jogging around our small town waiting to see what I’d find. The sad thing is I regularly found something and yet, I still let him sweet talk his way back in.

I really am pathetic. There’s no other possibility to explain the way I let myself be treated.

Nope, I can’t continue to do this.

I undress and pull on my workout gear before gathering my hair up in a tie. Once I’m back in the suite, I eye the door and the phone.

I know I’m supposed to call for someone to escort me, but that seems so bizarre.

It’s kind of nice in a way.

I mean, it’s a weird feeling to recognize that strangers have more concern for my well-being than my ex-boyfriend did.

I frown, glancing at the clock and seeing that it’s too late to bother Miller. Not that I really want him to see me stressed and gross after a workout.

I take several steps toward the door, but the urge to follow the rules is too strong.

Picking up the phone, I call the reception desk to ask for an escort.

There’s a light knocking on the door.

I’ve already got my phone and my key card in hand, so I aim for it.

Checking the peephole, my stomach drops.

It’s not Miller.

I’m ridiculous.

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.

“You haven’t been down here?” he asks.

“No,” I reply mindlessly, but my eyes are still glued to the sight. There’s a huge pool twenty or thirty feet away. Lounge chairs and tables with umbrellas line the sides of the wall that surrounds it, but they seem to be put away like how they’re stored for out of season weather.

“Do you mind if I change into my workout clothes before you get started?” Carver asks, scanning his badge and opening a door that seems rather unassuming.

I shrug. “Nope.”

It helps me feel better, like I’m not just burdening him.

We step into a small locker room and I’m kind of surprised, but it makes sense. The hotel staff would want somewhere to change and shower.

“Is there somewhere I should go?” I ask, eyeing the area.

“You can wait on the other side of that wall of lockers,” he says, chuckling.

Carver isn’t a bad workout buddy. The treadmill I’m on faces the wall of windows, and I swear the cold seems to seep inside. I’m pacing myself up when he steps to the side of the machine to offer me a zip-up hoodie.

It’s lightweight, and even though I’m exercising, I’m still chilly. I take it. It’s an entire process trying to get it on while not face planting, but I am eventually successful.

I jog, running through plot points in my head.

The characters I’m writing for are two fan favorites.

It makes it especially tough since a significant portion of readers wanted the hero to end up with the heroine in my last book.

I have to be careful to make sure she doesn’t feel like a consolation prize.

My thighs ache as my chest heaves, but I don’t stop. I’ve heard there are some people who get a sense of euphoria when they work out hard enough. That’s not me, but I wish it were. I push myself until the ache turns into numbness. It’s the best I can get. I’m sweaty and miserable, but I keep going.

My phone vibrates again in the cup holder of the machine. I’m eventually going to need to block Ben, but it feels so final. I’ve never taken that step, not even once over the years.

I shake my head, pulling my eyes from the screen to keep myself from doing something ridiculous like answering.