Page 129 of Captive Omega

Why didn’t his beta friend take him to a clinic himself?

I went to Jerome’s regular heat clinic. They said they hadn’t seen Jerome, and I believed them. But I’d still set Roman to watch it, just in case, and there was no indication the heat clinic was up to no good.

If Jerome’s heat had surprised him, he might not have a chance to get to his usual clinic. So we checked all clinics within walking distance of his dorm room. Nothing. No one had seen him.

Because he hadn’t gone into heat at all. We’d only been told he had.

It’s so obvious I don’t know how I missed it. It was right there, and I didn’t see it.

This is the part of the case that never felt right.

I get up from the armchair and head for the office as upstairs a door snicks closed. After the devastating news she received today, I hope Resa can find some measure of peace enough to sleep. I hope her nest gave her the comfort she must have needed.

The pool house was a job so big I’d taken one look at the interior and asked myself if we were biting off far more than we could chew.

Black walls. Pool games, floats, towels, plastic containers of stuff none of us could remember what they contained. And the smell…

It had been obvious none of us had been out there in a long time.

It would have been easier to take one of the bedrooms and turn it into her nest, but I kept thinking about Sadie’s comment that a house with alphas is not the right place for an abused omega to be. So it had to be the pool house.

Then I’d shaken my head, realized we had little more than six hours of daylight left, and there was every chance Resa, whose room overlooks the back garden, would peer out and wonder what the hell we were doing.

It had been a lot of work. Carrying everything to the house, making a quick trip to the hardware store for paint and supplies, and another to a department store, which meant cleaning out practically their entire home furnishing department.

Shopping has never been an activity I enjoy. I do it when it needs to be done, but I’d rather find something that fits, purchase it in five colors and go home. Shopping done for the year.

Vaughn’s eyes had lit up when he spotted a part of the store someone had set up like a Turkish living room: cushions on the floor, silks hanging from the walls, everything bright and cozy. Even I had wanted to sink into one of the cushions.

An omega would want to dive in. I hope.

The sales assistant had looked at us like we were insane when we told them what we wanted and that we wanted it all delivered to the house as soon as possible. Or he had until I’d pulled out my black credit card and slid it across the counter.

Then he’d gotten to work gathering everything we needed while Vaughn and I had returned home to continue emptying the pool house with Blaine and start painting with the non-toxic primer and paint.

It had taken hours. We took turns dealing with work calls between turning a pool house into a cozy nest for a wary omega.

I wish I’d seen her face. Had she smiled? Laughed? Had it made her a little less wary of alphas? Not any alpha and not all. Us. Just us.

“You look like you have it bad,” Vaughn says, returning me to the present. “You know that, right?”

He’s hanging off the door the way he sometimes likes to. Still dressed in paint splattered clothes, it’ll be hours before he goes to bed. “One day you’re going to take that door off its hinges,” I warn him.

“Not likely. I’m too fit for that.” He drops into a seat at the table. “Did she like it? I still think she would have preferred being serenaded.”

“You cannot serenade someone with drums.”

The idea had interested Resa from her smile. If I ever tell Vaughn about that smile, he will be dragging those drums out before I’ve finished speaking. Even if it’s nearly midnight and Resa would not appreciate drumming in the middle of the night.

But that’s Vaughn.

Vaughn doesn’t tell you he loves you. He’s determined to show it.

That was one of the first things that struck me from his interview. He wanted to work security, not because he thought he was good at it. He applied because it was secure, and he could learn skills to look after his family for years to come.

As far as I know, even though his mother wants nothing to do with him, he still sends her a check every month, so she never has to worry about money.

“I’ll admit the drum and bass was a good idea,” I tell him. “Resa was stomping down the stairs sooner than I thought.”

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