Page 71 of His Innocent Omega
The ringing of my cell phone made me jump. Grabbing for it, I knocked over my water glass.
“Fuck!” Juggling the glass before it could hit the floor, I didn’t check the caller I.D. before I answered.
“Wyatt? Everything okay?”
Expecting it to be Grayson, the deep baritone startled me and I pulled the phone away from my ear to check who was calling.
“Jamie, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“Okay, wow. That’s a little creepy. First, he’s fine. He wants me to make sure you know that. He is okay.” Jamie was speaking slowly and calmly, but my ears were buzzing.
“What’s happened?” My knees gave out and I sank down to the sofa.
“He’s at the hospital.” At my swift inhalation of air, Jamie rushed to get out, “They only called me because the dumbass forgot to update his medical emergency contact.”
Hospital. I had known something was wrong. Could feel it like a low buzzing noise across my skin the last two hours.
“What?” It was the only word I could manage, then finally I gasped, “What happened?”
“Wyatt, did you hear me say he is fine?” Jamie questioned. I could hear people talking in the background, a woman’s voice, and a rumble that sounded like Grayson. No, Iknewit was Grayson. He sounded like he was in pain. Jumping to my feet, I spun in a circle, looking frantically for my shoes.
“Jamie, tell me what’s happened!” I was shouting. I couldn’t help it. My mind was spinning. My heart was pounding, and I felt like I might throw up. Fear crawled up my throat like a live thing, and the walls undulated around me.
Visions of our life–mine and Julianna’s–without Grayson in it flashed rapidly through my brain, and dizziness overwhelmed me. Putting a hand on the wall to steady myself, I tried to breathe normally.
“He got a tiny bit shot, but it’s just a scratch, I swear it is. He is fine. Awake and snarling and threatening me with all kinds of bodily harm for calling and worrying you.”
Shot.
Grayson had been shot.
Of course, I knew it was a possibility with his job, but I tried not to let the fear of it rule our lives. I couldn’t. Or I’d never be able to let him walk out the door.
But it had happened.
“He says to make sure you know it’s barely a graze, it’s nothing. He’ll be home in a couple of hours–”
I hung up the phone. Because if Grayson Beckett thought I was going to sit in this house, when he had beenshot, and wait for him to come waltzing in the door like nothing had happened, he was an idiot.
Becks
Soft fingers caressed my jaw, catching on the stubble of my beard. Turning my face into the palm of the warm hand, basking in his gentle touch, the warm smell of blackberries washed over me, soothing me. I’d been pissed Jamie had called Wyatt because I didn’t want him to worry, but I was beyond glad he was here.
“Grayson,” he whispered, his voice ragged with raw emotion, “I was so scared we had lost you.”
Blinking my eyes open, I stared into his hazel orbs, tinged with so many things. The glassiness of unshed tears, fear, relief, but most of all love. He’d never said the words out loud, my innocent, stubborn, perfect omega, but I knew he did. Had felt the waves of his love over our bond, time and again, at the oddest moments.
Julianna was in his arms, head resting on his shoulder, bundled up against the cold. Looking sleepy and sucking on her paci. She smiled around it when she saw me and my heart swelled with so much love for my baby girl. For the both ofthem.
Less than a year ago, I couldn’t have imagined wanting this, a mate and a pup, and now I couldn’t imagine how I would ever live without them.
I hated domestic calls and this was why. People did stupid shit when they were emotional. They had too much to drink, and started waving around weapons they had no business owning and acting like fools on their ex’s front lawns. They tripped in their drunkenness when the police showed up, and they accidentally fired guns they shouldn’t be operating in the first place.
I’d been very lucky. The bullet had barely grazed me. But it had taken a chunk of skin off my bicep, and it had bled and hurt like a bitch. The wound needed to be cleaned and treated, so I’d been carted off to the hospital. But it could have been so much worse.
“Why do you never call me ‘Becks’?” I wondered aloud, not for the first time. Not one time had Wyatt ever called me by the nickname I’d had for most of my life. “Everyone else does.”
His lips curled up into a small, wistful smile, his eyes going soft. “Because I’m not everyone. You said so yourself. I’m your fated. And you’remyGrayson.”
