Page 89 of His Gentle Omega
Nodding at Shay, I waved my hands at him. “Shoo. We have decorating to get to.”
He gave me a two-fingered salute. “I’m going. You behave too,” he tossed saucily over his shoulder, winking. “Save any lights you want to hang from the house for me. I’ll do it for you when I get back.”
My heart warmed at his offer, along with the wink he had given me. Shay being a flirt might be more than I could handle. I couldn’t be expected to just keep keeping my hands to myself. Especially knowing his mate bond was well and truly severed.
Best tell him about the pup you’re carrying before you do anything else, my wolf warned me ominously.
Hand resting against my abdomen, I sighed.I know, I know. I will.
“Come on,” I said to Lucas. “Let’s get started on the back yard. I’ve got some cool inflatables for out there. Then we can work our way to the front.”
“Cool!” Lucas gave me a squeeze, “Thanks for letting me come over. I missed you.”
Kissing the top of his head, I mumbled, “I missed you too.”
“Maybe we should let Daddy hang those,” Lucas advised from his spot next to my step stool. I was hanging a huge spider and web to a holder already attached to the back of the house. Stretching, I could almost reach it.
The yard was littered with plastic tubs of decorations, and we’d already hung some on the fence. Giant inflatables, strategically placed throughout the yard, flopped on the ground, waiting for me to inflate them with the blower.
“I’ve got it,” I told him, feeling triumphant, then gasping when I got a tiny bit dizzy. Holding onto the stool, I stayed still for a few seconds until it passed.
Lucas was staring up at me with frightened eyes. Reassuring him, I said, “I’m okay. Just was dizzy for a minute. Sometimes that happens when I’m standing on the stool.”
“I still think we should wait for Daddy to do any more high up stuff.”
“Yes,” an unfamiliar voice behind us had me spinning around and I nearly toppled off the step stool. “Why don’t we wait for Daddy. Better yet, Lucas,” the stranger motioned for Lucas to come to him, “come to Papa. I haven’t seen you in so long. Come give me a hug.”
Papa?
Oh, fuck! Was this Edward? How was he even here, standing in my backyard?
My wolf growled, agitated beneath my skin, sensing the danger.
Lucas’s face confirmed my fears. His pale face was white as a ghost, his eyes wide and fear filled. Slowly, he shook his head back and forth, not making a sound. Carefully, I climbed from the stool, putting myself in front of Lucas and wiping my sweaty palms down my thighs.
The man–Edward–was still a good distance from us, and I realized he had entered my back yard from the woods, where the fence had been left open for easy access for shifting.
As he stepped closer, I saw he was absolutely stunning, with his expertly styled black hair, and wide blue eyes, a shade darker than Shays. He was tall, and very thin, and walked forward with a grace I had never possessed.
Feeling Lucas tremble behind me, I reached back to put a reassuring hand on his arm, squeezing lightly.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I told Edward, as he continued to stalk forward. “There’s a restraining order against you.”
He smiled, but there was a cruel, cold twist to his perfectly bowed lips. Waving a hand in the air, he shrugged.
“Silly piece of paper, nothing more. Lucas,” he leaned around my body, so close now the fumes of whiskey from his breath made my stomach curdle and I drew back sharply, trying not to gag. “Do what Papa says and come to me.”
Lucas trembled harder, and I straightened my shoulders. “You need to leave. Now.”
He examined his perfectly manicured nails, looking bored. “I do what I want. I go where I want. I get what I want.” His tone turned cold, sharp as a knife. “And right now, what I want, is my son.”
Lucas gasped loudly; the only sound he had made since Edward had announced his presence. As calmly as I could I told him, “Lucas, go in the house and lock the door.”
Without making another sound, he quickly did as I asked him to do, shutting the glass slider with a thud and locking it. Searching my sweater pocket for my cell phone, my hand came away empty.
“You’re drunk.” Edward laughed at my observation, the sound a bit maniacal.
“Nooooo,” he winked at me, drawing out the word. “Have I been drinking? Yes. Am I drunk? Eh. Let’s just say I have a very high tolerance.” Holding his finger and thumb about an inch apart, I noticed his glassy eyes, his pupils blown. “I may also be a little bit high. Rehab was…not for me.”
