Page 20 of Waiting for Fate
She’s sweat soaked and panting, her chest heaving and jiggling her breasts with each exaggerated exhale. Her dark blue eyes flick to each of us, a smirk on her face as she climbs to shaky feet and stalks toward us. We’ve both moved closer, hovering just outside of her nest to watch her get herself off. She stops in the doorway. “If you’re going to be a cockblock, you’re going to suffer alongside me,” she demands before slamming it closed in our faces.
“Fucking hell,” Ridley groans, his forehead hitting the wood with a solid thunk. “This omega is going to be the death of me, but damn, will I enjoy every second.”
I ignore him, shouldering past him to claim his shower before he can voice a complaint. My clothes rip from my body with a little too much aggression, the seams straining beneath the force.
Stepping beneath the warm water, my hand finds my cock immediately. The image of Bea in her bed, legs spread wide, is seared into my memory. Every inch of her skin, every bead of sweat, every breathy moan that tumbled from her lips. I relive all of it as I stroke myself. One arm braces against the shower wall to keep myself upright as I work myself faster, squeezing tighter in pulses, the same way her perfect cunt would as I fucked my cum into her.
I watch my release spurt onto the floor, swirling down the drain with the water. My knot still aches, begging to sink deep into our omega and lock us together until she’s so full of our scent she’ll never get rid of it.
Grabbing the scent canceling soap Ridley and I use when we’re working, I lather my body in it and try to force the lingering remnants of Bea’s slick scent from my mind.
Our omega is playing with fire, and none of us can afford to get burned.
“You feel it too? The pull?” Ridley asks as he leans against the bus beside me, hands in the pockets of his gym shorts. Milwaukee is still cooler in the evenings this early into the summer, so he actually has a shirt on for once. The vanity this asshole has is annoying as hell. Always taking fucking selfies at the gym to show off how fucking toned he is.
I glance at the open bus doors behind him, wondering if the omegas inside can hear us. The blaring sound of the reality singing show they’re watching would likely drown us out, as long as they don’t come to find us. Bea is still pissed about me not letting her go to the after party two nights ago, so I highly doubt she’s willing to be in the same room, let alone seek me out for something.
“Yep.”
Ridley waits, peeking at me from the corner of his eye, but I say nothing else. What is there to add? We both know we can’t do anything about it while we’re assigned as their bodyguards. He also knows I wouldn’t take the risk of bonding with her.
“You’re an idiot,” he grumbles. My eyes narrow as he pushes off the bus and stretches, arms raised behind his head. His usual stupid grin is on his face when he turns to face me. “She’s our Fate matched omega. She is literally made to handle us, trauma and all.”
I grunt, crossing my arms over my chest, and let a scowl settle on my lips. Fate may have made her for us, but a lot can fuck up relationships, even ones written in the stars. I refuse to be the reason that sassy, innocent omega inside loses her spark. Attaching my trauma to her would do exactly that—slowly drain the life from her eyes and replace it with the same bone-weary exhaustion always clinging to me.
Ridley shakes his head, clapping me on the shoulder as he heads back inside. He doesn’t get it. Growing up in a huge pack filled with love and support, he doesn’t fucking get it.
I try not to let the memories of my youth resurface, but when my mind is in turmoil, like it is now, they come roaring back anyway.
Rifling through the cupboards, I try to ignore the hunger pains pulsing in my stomach. There has to be something here, something forgotten. The front door slamming open sends me crashing to the floor where I perch on the counter. My heart races, hunger pushed aside and replaced by fear. Is it my father, or someone here looking for him?
I scramble to the back door, ducking outside seconds before he stumbles into the room, grumbling about the open cupboard doors. He doesn’t close them, just unloads his beer into the fridge and pats his pockets to make sure his latest stash is still inside. I barely breathe as he walks back to the living room, unsteady and bouncing off the walls as he goes.
He’s probably already had a hit or started drinking early. Drunk or high are the only two states of mind he’s in nowadays. When he’s high, it’s usually fine. He does his thing and passes out on the couch. When he’s drunk, that’s when I’m in trouble.
My face reminds him too much of my mother. Of the pain he felt when he lost her. Cancer is a fucking bitch, and I miss momma too, but it ain’t my fault she’s gone. Something he seems to think every time he’s had too much to drink.
Watching him down half a beer in one go, I slip down the steps and across the backyard. It’s best to find somewhere else to be for a while. At least until he passes out.
Glancing down the smelly alley running behind our shitty little house, I try to think of somewhere I could hang out for the night. I don’t have any friends at school since none of the other parents want their kid around the local drug addict’s son. The library is already closed for the day too. Maybe I can convince Old Man Jensen to let me have a sandwich if I fix his lawn mower for him.
Tinkering is the only thing that gets me through the days. There’s nothing like the feel of an engine coming apart in your hands, listening to it purr when you put it back together again. It’s also the only way I have to make money. I’m too young to get a job yet, at least for another year or two. The only options for someone my age around here are odd jobs for the neighbors—which doesn’t work out when they’re all disgusted by your family—or to get in with the local gang and become a runner. And there’s no way in hell I plan on getting involved in that shit.
Jogging down the alley, I knock on Mister Jensen’s door, hoping the old man isn’t asleep in his chair. When the door creaks open, I let out a silent sigh of relief. He scowls down at me, but steps aside and opens the door. “Straight to the garage,” he mutters as I slip by. I nod, keeping my head down as I make my way there.
I already have the top off the mower and the engine lying in pieces around me when he appears with a small sandwich and a glass of water. Doing my best not to cram the entire thing in my mouth at once, I study the parts lying at my feet. Sometimes I wonder if people are like engines too. If maybe when momma died, some piece of my father broke and no one bothered to fix it.
Not that it would be easy to do. People aren’t as easy to put back together. If they were, I wouldn’t be hiding out down the street, working for food to ease the ache in my empty stomach.
The sound of another door slamming startles me from the memory. I tense, waiting to see who it is, but when I watch a guy on the road crew heading to the campground’s showers, I relax. Staring up at the dark sky, I let the echoes of pain my memories pulled to the surface fade back into oblivion where they belong.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MY OMEGA LOOKSstunning tonight. Okay, I’ve thought that every night since I met her. Doesn’t make it any less true.
Stepping out of the adjoining rooms we’re sharing for our stay in Grand Rapids, my eyes immediately find her. The high-waisted pink slacks she’s wearing hug her wide hips and highlight her peachy ass in a way that has me biting my fist. The white cropped tank top peeking from beneath her dark pink blazer is flowy enough to appear professional while still letting a sliver of her soft stomach peek through.
She’s beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Sassy, but sweet when she wants to be. And she’s assertive, handling the alphas in her band and on the road crew with a precision that has pride bubbling in my chest.
