Page 29 of The Omega Project

There’s a chattering sound in my head and I realise it’s my teeth. I clench my jaw to make it stop, but the words come spewing out before I can stop them. “I didn’t want it. He said he was drunk, but I don’t believe him. He moved too fast, and I couldn’t get off the bed before he caught me. He pinned me down with an arm across my throat, and while I was trying to push him off, he bit me.”

A warm hand cups my cheek, but I shiver, my skin prickling with a cold sweat. “It bled…everywhere. He was always so uptight about his thousand-count bedsheets, but he didn’t care. I was screaming and crying, but he was so calm. He waited until I was exhausted and then he gripped my jaw, squeezing it to make me bite him back. He said it didn’t matter I was only a beta, it would be a real claiming, because we both wanted it. He used an alpha command, I think, but he couldn’t make me do it, so he pushed me off the bed. I hit my head on the dresser, but I remember him sayingI was lucky he cared enough to want to keep me…”

Through the static in my head, I think about the bee joke,about Finn liking it enough to tell me it was a keeper. I was so proud I made him smile, but he’s stone-faced now, and that warm little glow in my heart has long since puttered out. A wave of bile rushes in to replace it, and I look around frantically. “God, I think I’m going to throw up.”

“No, you’re not.” Even in the grip of a panic, I melt as his hand slides over my sweaty nape. I lean into his touch, and as his fingers brush my racing pulse, every synapse that is misfiring in my brain instantly goes quiet. “You’re safe. He’s gone. That will never happen again, not by him or any man. Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” I know it’s just the influence of his authority working on my overwrought nervous system, but I let him lull me with his firm words and soft caresses. “I believe you.”

“Good. Now sit back and relax. We’re nearly there.”

It’s the last exchange between us until he parks in the garage, and we take the elevator down to the basement. I don’t mind the silence, because his arm is around my shoulders, and his thumb is still stroking my neck. When we reach the observation room, the table and chairs are gone, and Langston is sitting on a couch. It’s nothing like the furniture upstairs, with big, squishy cushions and a beautiful upholstery in a rose velvet. I sink onto the seat, my shoes falling off as I curl my feet beneath me. I study my mentor, drinking in his handsome face and long, hard body. He’s dressed for riding today, and the scent of his leather jacket curls around me like a smoky kiss. “Hello, Lang.”

“Hello, Emily.” His arm is stretched across the back of the couch, and I can’t resist touching the soft, golden hairs curling around his cuff. “Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?”

It’s too complicated a question to answer, so I look past him at the mirrored wall. “How's Soren?”

Langston replies with the kind of scientific observations I usually appreciate, but there’s a buzzing in the back of my head and I can’t concentrate. I need to see for myself, so as much asI want to stay there, cocooned in his scent, I climb off the sofa and drift to the glass wall. The mess from yesterday is gone, and there are fresh linen and pillows on the bed, but I can’t see any sign of Soren in the room.

“He’s in the bathroom,” Langston tells me. “See that door in the back? He wanted to take a shower and dress before you arrived.”

“Really?” I smooth my hands over my blouse, excitement fluttering under the soft silk. “Can I go down to the other room?”

“Yes. I’m sure he’d like that.”

I hesitate, trying to think past that buzzing in the back of my mind. I want to see Soren, but there’s something else I need to do…

“My tablet?”

“It’s here, Emily.”

Finn hands it over, and I watch his fingers for a moment, trying to think of a way to get them back on my neck. I have to give myself a mental shake, because I’m here to help Soren, not cuddle on the couch with his alphas. “Is there anything you want me to focus on specifically?”

“All of his vital readings are taken automatically,” Finn informs me, “but if he’s feeling up to it, it would be good to administer his heat and rut tests.”

I nod, but my mouth suddenly feels painfully dry. I know from reading Soren’s case file that the tests involve the collection of bodily fluids, and that he hasn’t always cooperated with the process. They were originally administered daily, but with little change in the readings – and his reluctance to participate - they’ve dropped back to weekly.

“There’s a test kit in the room,” Lang says. “Soren knows how to use it, but he might need some encouragement to share the results.”

“I’ll do what I can,” I assure them, and they both touch me – Langston on the arm and Finn on my neck, his thumb brushing against my pulse – and I have to fight the urge to purr.

I think about that as I hurry down the connecting stairs, the tablet slippery in my damp palm. Claudia is always teasing me for humming – something I supposedly even do in my sleep - but to my knowledge, I’ve never purred in my life. It’s just not an instinct that’s built into betas. We’re too practical, and we just don’t share the dynamic that causes other designations to connect on that primal level. Having said that, lots of other species mimic those around them, whether to lure in prey or to warn off predators.

Hmm.Is purring catching? It’s an interesting thought, especially since Creed let a couple slip when I was sitting on his lap last night. And then there was the ride into work this morning, which felt like one long throaty rumble. Was that Finn’s influence, or am I just confusing him with the Lamborghini’s twelve-cylinder piston engine?

I’m not sure, but a purr hovers in my throat as I reach the other room and Soren steps through the bathroom door. His hair is blue-black and curling at his ears, his cheeks flushed pink from his shower. He’s wearing jeans with designer rips at the knees, and a grey polo that hugs his lean frame. When his gaze connects with mine, his smile goes all the way from his plush lips to his sparkling black eyes. I smile back, and he strides towards me, confident yet relaxed. There’s no hint of the violence I saw yesterday, and as he gets closer, I can smell something smoky and inviting, like black tea and cloves.

“You look really good.” I hum as he comes to a stop in front of me. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Better than you’d believe.” His gaze drops to the tablet in my hand. “Are you here for an observation?”

“They were hoping you were up to taking some tests.”

I watch for any sign of annoyance, but his smile is unwavering. “I administered the slick test before my shower, and I’m happy to inform you I’m as dry as the Great Sandy Desert.” I can’t stop a snort of laughter, and he leans against the glass, his eyes dancing. “I think the official term is ‘no evidence of heat symptoms.’”

I nod and check the box on the form. “And the other test?”

“You mean my blood pressure?” There’s a teasing note in his voice, and when I glance up from the screen, his smile widens. “Oh, you mean am I in a rut? That was negative as well, but I can do it again if you need me to.”

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