Page 30 of The Alpha: Part One
What did it look like?
A shitbox, but that isn’t very descriptive.
Older. 2 door. White. A few rust spots. The second car was newer, nicer. Blacked out windows. 4 door. Whoever was in the back was going to be a problem. I’ll let you know if they come back.
I don't know how much time passes before he sends the next text, but I don’t like what he says.
Come inside. They saw you. They know you’re here. No reason for you to be out there. It’s going to rain.
Going inside isn’t an option. Being out here is safe.
I’m fine. I’ll keep watch.
Hopefully that will be the end of it. It doesn’t smell like rain and outside is much better than inside. I’m not about to go back to the truck, though. If anyone comes back by, I'll never get from the truck to the door in time to help.
The sun starts to rise, turning the sky from inky black to muddy purple. I start hearing alarm clocks blaring from nearby houses and the kids start yelling again. And just as the first school bus rolls by, the sky opens up, just like Michael said it was going to.
It’s not a nice, friendly, slowly increasing rain, either. It’s coming down in sheets and standing up on the streets. My phone dings with a notification. It’s Michael.
Drag your freckled ass into the house.
This is a very bad idea. A very, very bad idea. There is no right choice. If I stay on the porch, I’ll be drenched and for no reason. I can’t see shit out here, anyway. And if I go inside… Well, I’ll have any number of panic attacks or episodes because Desir’ee doesn’t seem like the quiet type. Going back to the truck to wait out the rain isn’t an option, either. Because I can’t see shit.
Okay. I’m going inside. It’s going to be fine. They won’t be in the front room. Desir’ee likely made her nest in a bedroom. I can stay on the chair by the front door. It’s going to be fine.
It’s going to be fine.
The door isn’t locked, which pisses me off, but what were they going to do, stop what they were doing to let me in? The scent inside the house is the best and worst thing I’ve ever experienced. I can pick out the individual notes of each of their scents. The heady musk of magnolias mixing with the electric aroma of ozone and rain, both saturated in Desir’ee’s crisp and sweet scent. Each one is appealing in some way, and the combination is supremely comforting and alluring. It is more than obvious that she’s in heat, and that one of both of the twins are pretty far into rut, but it isn’t the overwhelming, horrible thing I thought it might be. No, the overwhelming, horrible thing is the sound she makes after I’ve been in the house for a few minutes.
The sound itself is the most delicious and pleasing thing I’ve ever heard. If I were to go deaf right now, this very second, I would be satisfied knowing it was the last sound I heard. But the effect it has, the way it crawls into me, sinking into my very bones, leaves me covering my ears, beating at them to drown it out.
This was a very bad idea.
Chapter fifteen
Ben
Seth is in the house. I can smell him. Desie can smell him. We can all smell him. And he smells like pure terror.
“Go check on him,” I tell Michael. It’s his turn to be out of the nest. “Take him some water and an apple, or something.” I’d do it, but it’s going to take way more than Seth being scared of being in our house to get me to leave this nest. As soon as this is over, I’m going to need to know why he fought so hard to stay outside.
Desie is all omega instinct right now. She’s lost in it, and lost to everything but her needs. She’s still aware of some things, though; apparently including Seth. Her nostrils flare and twitch as often as mine and Michael’s do, and she keeps looking toward the door.
Michael buttons his jeans and grabs a couple bottles of water from the dresser and an apple, and a small bag of jerky, then he walks out into the hall as efficiently as he can. I tried to stress how uncomfortable Seth seemed to be about coming inside, but hell, at this point I’m not sure I really understood how he truly might be.
Anxious and upset or not, the house feels different with Seth inside it. In a good way, I think. It feels, I don’t know, full. It feels like Michael and I can take the same breath at the same time without needing to take turns.
Desie lets out a long, high-pitched whine, bringing my full attention back to her. “What’s wrong, baby? What do you need?” I ask, not really expecting all that much articulation. That was one of the more pleasantly surprising things we discovered together after the first time we helped her through a heat. We had to wait three long fucking years before we felt comfortable offering to even help her. We wanted to wait another, but Amber threatened to rip our balls off if we didn't try when she wanted to stop taking suppressants since they made her so sick. It was torture, knowing she was suffering, but she was too young and, honestly, so were we. Neither of us were mature enough to handle an omega in heat or out, we didn't know what to expect from her. All omegas are different. We studied. Some are soft and cuddly, some are aggressive, some are quiet, some tear the walls down. We didn't know. And the fact that Amber came to us to "ask" us to take care of Desie had us thinking she would be more on the aggressive side. I'm not afraid to say I was nervous about it. I'm not afraid to admit I was a little afraid. But she wasn't aggressive, not in the typical sense.
Desie is every single good and desirable thing an omega could ever be. She's vocal but doesn't scream at us. She's demanding without being onerous. She's needy, but not suffocating. She's perfect. But for the three days in the middle she's all instinct. Some omegas fight it, they don't like to lose that much control of themselves, but Desie thrives. She gives herself permission to be fully immersed in what her body wants and it's the most beautiful and perfect thing. She's amazing.
She whines again, looking toward the door. The discomfort that comes with her heat is coming at more regular intervals now, she's on a slow climb to the top of a wave right now, but she's unsettled. Usually at this point she's rolling with the waves, moving through them with precision without help. Something is just a smidge out of place. Even I can feel it. "Michael will be back in just a minute, don't worry. He isn't going far." She understands that we have to take turns, that hasn't been a huge issue for a while now, just a little occasional blip.
She shakes her head, blowing out a breath, her face scrunched in an adorable pout. "That's not it." She runs her hand across the blanket spread under us, smoothing it. "He doesn't like it."
I rub my nose against hers. "Michael loves your nest. He loves every nest you make for us."
She shakes her head again, frowning, but doesn't say anything else. That bothers me. "What is it, Desie? Tell me what's wrong. I'll fix it if I can. Just tell me."
