Page 312 of The Omega Exchange: Omnibus
“Have you decided if you’ll join Core-Tech? You’re on their short list.”
“Nik, tell us about the arrest.”
“Hey, sweetheart, is it a boy or a girl?”
“Which one of your pack is the father?”
The questions don’t stop. They do the round robin game to see who’ll crack. They don’t care if they get an actual answer; just a snarling response will be enough for their clip or sound bite.
“You’re going to want to back the fuck up now,” Miller growls, tossing up a forearm between Mel and one of the camera men.
“I wasn’t touching her!” the guy complains.
“I’m good,” Mel says, smiling tightly.
“How far along are you?”
“Nik, is the baby yours?”
The questions do not stop even as Carver pulls to a stop with the SUV. Nik and Miller guard either side of Mel, but I make a straight shot for the front seat.
“Please don’t touch me,” I snap as one of the photographers bumps into me on the way by. My chest heaves as I climb into the front seat and slam the door.
Nik and Miller ensure Mel is safe as we take off, but I feel like a giant asshole.
“Can you just give me some space,” Mel grumbles as Nik pats her down. My eyes fly back to the front as Carver pulls away. “Are you okay?” She leans forward, battling the seat belt to pat my arm.
“I’m good,” I assure her.
Melody sends pure steady comfort in the bond, and my anxiety does seem to melt away. Somehow I ended up with the perfect omega for me. Here’s hoping she never realizes just how much she settled when she agreed to bond with me.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Carver
Oliver spends most of the afternoon in his room. Around three o’clock Mel gets tired of worrying about him and stomps up to his bedroom. Dinner time comes and neither of them have emerged, so I go searching.
Melody is passed out cold on Oliver’s chest, and he’s typing on his tablet screen with the keyboard sitting next to him. I grin because I’ve seen him do that before when she’s sleeping.
It’s a slow process waking Mel, but she does come down for dinner. Miller grilled steaks and chicken breasts and Mel lights up when she sees the foil-wrapped baked potatoes.
She dives into her steak first and then shoves herself out of her chair with no notice. The four of us glance between each other, but she doesn’t aim for the closest bathroom.
She makes it back and sets down a couple of bottles. I’m not the only one frowning when she picks up the chocolate syrup.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I say, gently grabbing her wrist as she goes to pour. “I think maybe you’ve got the wrong bottle.”
I nod to the chocolate fudge sauce in her small hand.
“They say pregnancy brain really kicks in during the second trimester,” Oliver says, wiping his mouth with his napkin.
Mel looks between the bottle and her potato and then wiggles out of my hold. “Listen, it might not make a lick of sense, but this is what sounds good, so I’m going for it.”
“Far be it from me to stand in the way of a pregnant woman and her craving.” I chuckle.
“You can try to shame me all day,” Mel mumbles around a bite of potato. “It’s not going to work. This isdelicious.”
Miller gives Nik and me the same look he does regularly to indicate we should shut the fuck up and be supportive.
