Page 53 of The Omega Project

Deflect. Deflect. Deflect.

“So, it’s true,” I say with a sneer. “You’re taking a job with that bunch of champs?” He actually puffs up his chest, and I wonder if he’s so out of touch he forgot it’s soldier slang for a 'Cunt Has A Mental Problem'. “Well, here’s a word of advice to the shittiest father I’ve ever met.” With a flick of my wrist, I knock his pack portrait off the edge of his desk. “Make sure you read the fine print on your life insurance policy, or you just might find yourself leaving another pack high and dry.”

Emily doesn’t say another word until we’re off base and then she waves at the window, gesturing for me to pull over. I quickly comply, and she leaps out of the car, staring down at the ocean as she takes in gulps of brisk, salty air. I can’t tell if the tears on her cheeks are from the wind or her arsehole father, but I put my arm around her just the same. “God, I hope everything I’ve ever learned about genetics is a lie,” she sniffs, pressing her face to my chest, “because that man is a world-class wanker.”

I chuckle at the slur, although she’s spot on with the personality assessment. As to her genetics, I’m more a fan of nurture over nature, and it sounds like her sister Claudia is the real deal. “Forget him. He’s done.”

Literally, if I have anything to do with it, but she pulls back to stare up at me with worried eyes. “I can’t believe he threatened Soren like that. How does he even know about you two?”

“He doesn’t. Not the mating part, anyway.” I pause, swiping a tear off her cheek and staring at it in frustration. Finn needs to have a proper conversation with Emily, so I don’t feel like I’m always dancing across a minefield. “But Finn pulled somestrings to get him out of the program, and I’m sure your father knows we’re still in touch.”

“And can he really force Soren back into the program?”

Not without killing me first, but I don’t think that’s what she needs to hear now. “It will never happen. We’d expose their bullshit before they got that far.”

She presses a hand to my chest, right over Soren’s mating bite. For once, I’m glad it wasn’t visible, because if her father knew I’d been claimed during a rut, he’d be well within his rights to detain me while the MPs went to fetch Soren.

“I want to get back into the lab as soon as possible,” she says, her brow furrowed in thought. “There has to be a way to make Soren’s designation bulletproof, so arseholes like my father can’t ever threaten him again.”

“We get him through his next heat and he should be good,” I tell her, hoping that Finn’s theory is really the answer to our prayers.

She nods and we return to the car, but her gaze has grown distant by the time she buckles herself in. “For some reason, I actually thought he might apologise to me. How is that for stupidly naïve?”

I grind my teeth at her sad little chuckle and make a snap decision. “Do you mind if we make a stop before we head home?

“No, of course not.” She sighs and rests her head against the window. “I just might not be the best company, though.”

“Then we’re going to the right place.”

She just makes a humming sound while I drive us through the back streets around the base, finally coming to stop outside some of the old military housing. She looks curiously at the small bungalow as we head through the garden gate, taking in the high fence and the row of dog bowls lined up near the door. When I knock on the door, one of the volunteers opens it with a smile. Igive her my name and as she ushers us in, I watch Emily’s brows go up as she sniffs the air.

“This is Pets for Vets,” I tell her quietly as we pass a reception desk and head into one of the large playrooms at the back. “They foster out animals to returned soldiers and veterans who are doing it tough.”

Emily’s eyes light up as the volunteer leads us over to a golden retriever pup in a training vest. He’s being put through some basic commands, but the scent of new people has him dashing around our ankles until Emily leans against me with a laugh. While the volunteer tries to distract her charge from our boot laces, I turn her gently by the shoulders so she’s looking at the other corner of the room. “They’re therapy cats. They foster them out, too, but they’re always looking for permanent homes for them. I’ve had my eye on this cutie pie for a while.”

I draw her over to a little tabby cat with white paws and a patch on her forehead like a dollop of paint. She’s on the top platform of a scratching post, rolling to show us her furry belly as she stretches in the sunlight coming through the window. “Her name is Biscuit, because she’s the kind of ration you don’t just give away to anyone.”

The tiny cat licks her lips and studies Emily like she’s her new best friend. “You’re serious? You’re going to take her home?”

“We’regoing to take her home, if you want to.” I reach out and rub the kitten’s belly, smiling as her tiny claws sink into my wrist. She might be an orphan that a volunteer dug out of a scrapyard, but she already knows her place in the world. “As long as you teach her not to stick her nose in a hive.”

“Charles Darwin considered cats essential for the survival of bumble bees,” she says softly, creeping forward to lay her hand over mine. The mixture of excitement and hesitation in her eyes makes my chest pinch. “I always wanted one, but Mum isallergic. One cat hair could blow her up like a balloon, or so she said.”

I think of the other things her mother said – including the fact that she lied about her allowance while her kids went without. But warmth blooms in my chest at the thought of giving Emily something her parents withheld from her. “I can set up a cat run in the yard, when she gets bigger, but I’m guessing this princess will be a bit of a housecat.”

“Can you imagine her in our nest?” Emily gasps, finally letting her fingers sink into the kitten’s fur. Biscuit clearly knows which side her bread is buttered, because she leaps off the post and straight into Emily’s waiting arms. “Creed,” she mumbles as she buries her face in the squirming mound of fur. “Thank you so much. For this little cutie, but also for coming with me today.”

There are tears on her cheeks again, but it’s Biscuit’s turn to wipe them away, her tiny tongue rasping on her skin and making Emily laugh. “Anytime you need me, I’m yours. Just say the word.”

Emily

Biscuit takes to her new home like a honeybee to a banksia tree. It helps that Creed has planned ahead and purchased all the things she needs to survive, including an engraved food bowl, two scratching posts, a sleeping donut, three different kinds of kitten food, and an endless stack of pee mats for the bathroom floor. Watching him carry all that inside makes Lang laugh until his eyes are dripping, but for Soren, it’s clearly a case of love at first sight. And who can blame him? Watching his mountain of a mate fuss over a tiny bundle of fur is enough to melt even the most stoic heart into a pile of goo.

And then there’s Biscuit herself, who is more addictive than a packet of TimTams, especially when she starts to purr at a volume you can hear in the next room.

“That kneading action is called making biscuits,” Soren tells me, staring at the little cat with adoration in his eyes. We’re sprawled out on the nest, our newest addition to the pack lying between us and rhythmically sinking her claws into the comforter. “Of course, she’s already at Master Chef level.”

I grin at him and lean over the busy little baker for a kiss. Soren’s lips taste like spicy cherries, and I groan as I pull away. “I don’t know how I’m going to sleep tonight, I’m so excited.”

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