Page 64 of The Omega Project

His gaze flicks to mine, a hint of warmth stirring in his pale grey eyes. “Because you have a scientist’s scepticism?”

I reach up to feather a kiss over his lips. “Because having mates like you would have seemed too good to be true.”

Creed makes a soft sound behind me and then his front is pressing against my back, his mouth dipping to lick at Soren’s bite. I’ve noticed him eyeing it hungrily ever since we left the pub, and I shiver at the swirl of pheromones that fill the air. Want pulses through me as they press closer, but I force them both back with a “As much as I love your childhood room, I don’t think the three of us can fit in that bed.”

Creed must have inherited his mum’s flare for home improvement, because he eyes the narrow mattress confidently. “I’m pretty sure I could make it work.”

“Maybe,” I reply, ignoring their grunts of disapproval as I pull away. “But don’t you think we should continue this conversation at home, with the rest of our pack?”

The two alphas exchange a heated glance, and then Creed is reaching for the plate of vanilla slice. “I’ll ask mum to pack this up to go.”

Soren

Stepping out of the shower to find a man in black leaning against the counter could be either a fantasy or a nightmare. These days, I seem to be balanced precariously between both, but my heart starts to ping-pong against my ribs as I take in Creed’s form. His size and intensity are definitely intimidating, but the look in his chocolate-brown eyes sends a rush of anticipation across my skin. Probably because they’re raking down my damp body, lingering on the growing bulge under my towel. “See something you like?” I ask cheekily as I flick my black hair back, preening a little at the attention.

“Always,” he murmurs, grabbing another towel off the counter and stepping forward to press it to my chest. Creed’s almost twice my size, but he’s gentle as he dries me off, his fingers lingering on the shadows under my eyes. “Couldn’t sleep?”

We’re in the bathroom down the hall from the pack nest, since I didn’t want to wake the others. Lang came in late from his faculty meeting, and Derek is working so hard on Finn’s assignment, his fingers twitch all night, like he’s working an invisible keyboard.

“Just a stupid dream. Is Emily back?”

“Tucked up in the nest with Finn and the others.”

I relax, that itch under my skin dissolving at the news. I’ve been on edge ever since Derek told me Emily was taking ashift at the pub downtown. She’s technically not working there anymore, but a bunch of servers were out with the flu, and she was offered double pay. Not like she needs it, with all the sugar daddies in her life, but she told Derek she wanted to put the extra cash towards Christmas presents.

Bless her sweet, perfect heart.

I press a hand to the spot in my chest where her bond has settled, as warm and welcoming as one of her candles. “I missed you,” I admit, gazing up into Creed’s face. “But I’m glad I bonded them, and I won’t apologise for not waiting.”

“I’m glad you did, too. And waiting was only a precaution.” He wraps his hands around my back, his thumbs brushing down my spine. “You’re a good alpha, Soren. You gave them exactly what they needed.”

The flush of pride under my skin is rare these days, but even when I was mindless with pain, little signs of Creed’s approval would always make me salivate for more.

“And what do you need, Alpha?” We’re close enough that stray drops of water spot the front of his suit. “I can always take a second shower, if you’re feeling a little dirty.”

“How about a walk on the beach?”

I blink at him in surprise, but he’s already slipping out of his suit jacket and handing me my jeans. I don’t think he means a midnight skinny-dip, so I pull them on, turning up the cuffs so they don’t drag in the sand. When we reach the track behind the house, the moon is as round and bright as a dinner plate, and I suck in a breath at the way it shimmers off the ocean. The scientist in me knows that when moonlight hits moving water, each ripple becomes a mirror, but my romantic side has me linking my arm through Creed’s. “Did you know that the long trail of shimmering light is called a moon glade?”

He shakes his head, his eyes still on my face, and I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Sometimes, I dream that I’m stilllocked up. Not back in that room at the facility, but before, when Vast Horizons had me…”

“Never again.” The growl in his voice sends another rush of goosebumps across my skin. It’s December, so the sky is clear and the air still warm, but I lean into him anyway. After so many months of watching the world from behind reinforced glass, I’m more than a little touch-starved, and Creed doesn’t hesitate to wrap me in his arms. “We won’t stop until they’re gone. The whole program, and every fucker who had a hand in it. I just wish I could take away those memories, too…”

“Not all of them,” I murmur, burying my nose in his chest, right over the messy mark of my attempted bonding. “Some of them I want to keep.”

The first time I met Creed, I was out of my head on rut hormones and looking to hammer my knot into the nearest available hole. I’d scented the soldier in him – that mix of musk and metal I’d been trying to escape ever since Vast Horizons broke my brain – but I’d also smelled something more tantalising. It was warm and woody, like a sun-dappled forest, or a cosy fire in a mountain cottage. Both things I’d experienced since escaping my nightmare of a mother, but never with someone I wanted to look at once the hangover wore off.

But now I chase a hint of something else, nosing into his chest like a hungry mole. “Why do you… smell like spicy chocolate?”

A rumble greets my ear, and I pull back to look into his face. Something flickers through their depths that looks a lot like nerves, although that would have to be a first. Creed could teach mountain ranges a thing or two about stoicism, and not a lot ever seems to ruffle him.

Except for the time I sank my teeth into his chest. I’m not sure if I was trying to chew out his heart, or capture it, but a coil of smug pleasure tightens my groin until he says, “We stopped atmy mum’s. We drank hot chocolate, and I brought you a piece of her vanilla slice.”

“Your mum?” I’m not sure why I’m so surprised. Creed has an air of capability about him that’s probably dished out in nice homes like Vegemite sandwiches and pocket money. “And I thought you just sprang from the side of a mountain, full grown and fabulous.”

“Nope,” he says, drawing me down the beach, his boots leaving an impressive furrow in our wake. “I was raised by Sally Creed. She’s a retired schoolteacher. My dads were Kane, a nurse who passed from cancer when I was a kid, and Bill, who died in Afghanistan a few years ago. She still lives in their packhouse, although she’s got about a dozen reno projects going, none of which she’s about to finish in a hurry.”

“I’m sorry.” I stop and turn his face towards me, studying his features in the moonlight. “Losing your dads must have been horrible.”

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