Page 19 of Small Town Shy Omega
I pictured Dreydon donning a uniform, and a chill barreled through me. Around me, Dreydon was a consummate Alpha. He cared for me. Protection ran through his blood, like a live wire. The desire to keep me safe was in his veins.
At last, he finally told meArmy.
I imagined Dreydon marching through a desert, machine gun in hand. Enemies swarmed the hills in the distance. He growled, sand blowing against his beard as sweat dripped down his neck. “Let me,” he growled to his Army brothers, demanding that he and only he be permitted to take out the target.
When I awoke in my nest, I was covered in a cold sweat. I’d never pictured anything more terrifying, Dreydon single-handedly taking out over a hundred men.
When I scurrieddown to the kitchen later, I went right up to Dreydon.
Sitting beside him, I wrapped the scar-ridden Alpha in a hug.
Yes, I saw as I hugged Dreydon tight, inhaling his masculine scent, he was covered in scars… I didn't see it earlier, I was so foolish.
Dreydon had scars. Manly scars, that he’d received in war.
Battle, where he’d been fighting in a foreign country, protecting the vulnerable. Protecting Omegas like me.
“Thank you,” I whispered in Dreydon’s ear, and he turned a confused brow on me.
“For what?” came his throaty, clueless growl.
My fingers went to his scars, touching them. “For serving.”
“Oh, I got that scar changing a tire one time,” he growled, eyes gazing at some unseen past danger. “Just kidding, yeah I did get that overseas.”
That afternoon, I applied a petal-and-mulberry paste, that I researched when I look upscar fading ointments,to Dreydon’s scars.
“Here,” I whispered, using all I had to make it easier for Dreydon. The paste was supposed to burn a bull; even the most ferocious beasts couldn’t withstand the mulberry burn, as it removed scar tissue.
Dreydon merely looked down, a shudder going through him. “Hardly stings,” he growled, and when we checked his scar the following morning, the paste hadn’t worked at all.
I grew frustrated, but Dreydon put his hand on mine. “It’s okay, Layla. Don’t get upset.”
“I wanted to heal your scar,” I muttered, hot tears burning. I could hardly lift my eyes, stare at him.
Dreydon took it upon himself to lift my gaze. He cupped my chin, touching it tenderly—gently, full of grace, not a hint of possessive cruelty. Not like my past pack, not like others had done to me.
“Layla,” Dreydon whispered, the deep low voice of the scarred warrior washing over me. “Don’t ever hide those pretty eyes from me again.”
“Pretty?”
“They shine like purple crystals,” Dreydon hummed, peering in deep. “Mauve and sparkle, wow. Fuck, I’d love to see them blown wide—in a heat-snap—with half-moon rings.”
“Thanks, Dreydon.” I let out a snort, wriggling away from him. Pretending like I wasn’t a weakling for a second, I punched his shoulder.
Dreydon growled, lifting my fingers… he could tell my fist was so tiny, so weak, it couldn’t do damage.Not like the bullets he faced in the Army,I thought as a chill swept through me.
Passion.Relief. Desire.
That’s what I felt when Dreydon lifted my chin, and it’s what I felt each time I was around my Alphas. It didn't matter whether it was Blake or Josh, or Dreydon when he was ripping apart my hood, growling as he adjusted tubes or replaced my motor oil.
Each Alpha cared for me, tended to my needs like only an Alpha could.
Never before had I been so wooed. So cared for, so swept off my feet.
“It’s really incredible,” I said to Gretel later in the week, a snort escaping me. “I mean, they do… Alpha things for me, Gret. Like you read about in novels.”
“I wish I had that,” Gretel sighed.
