Page 33 of The Alpha: Part One
"Seth," I try again, daring to reach out and stroke down the back of his head, letting my fingers brush against his where they're tangled in his hair.
He doesn't move, doesn't quiet.
I do then what I'd do for Ben or Michael. I purr. I can’t do it loud, even on my best day, most omegas can’t, but it’s usually enough to comfort them when they need it; and it did help Seth before at the restaurant.
Empathy and support flows into me from both twins, encouraging my efforts when Seth doesn’t immediately respond. I keep at it until his head jerks once to the side, the movement small and harsh. Then his hands slowly unravel from his hair and come down to rest at the back of my knees.
I can stand here like this with him all day. Ben stands on one side of him, Michael on the other. We can stand here with him as long as we need to.
Chapter seventeen
Seth
It’s the squeaking again. The wheels on the cart. Whenever this happens and I get trapped like this, that’s all I can hear. It’s playing on repeat in my head. I hear the squeaking and the hateful murmur of whatever Jay, Derek were saying behind me and my father screaming at me over the phone tobe an alpha. I can never pull myself out of the circuit once the squeaking takes over.
I walk in, stop Jay, then take his place because it seems like the best thing to do in the situation, then wheel her out while trying to tune out what they’re saying. As soon as the door shuts behind me and I turn to lock it, it starts all over and I’m opening the door to the room they had her in. Over and over. And all I can hear is the squeaking of the wheels.
I can’t make it stop. I can’t make myself stop. I should have done a hundred different things, but I couldn’t think fast enough. Taking Jay’s place seemed like the fastest and safest way to get her out of there. If I had more time to think it through, if I would have been stronger, better, I could have stopped it. I should have told my father to fuck off all those years ago. I should have fought Jay and Derek. Hell, I should have fought to disband our dysfunctional pack when the connection just wasn’t there. I should have done anything besides what I did. And I can’t take it back.
Then another sound filters through, feeling like snow covering everything, muting things, making everything quiet and peaceful. The squeaking slowly quiets, being slowly drowned out by this new sound.
My mind jumps to the compound when Talia and Jasper saved us. Saved me. Talia purred for me. She and Jasper comforted me when their pack was dealing with mine. This feels the same way.
I jump again to the restaurant a few weeks ago, when Desir’ee did the same thing. Desir’ee. This is her sound. I can smell her all around me. I smell Ben and Michael, too; but all that matters right now is her.
Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her, clinging to her like the lifeline she is. I breathe in her scent as deeply as I can while I fight my way back to the surface of the present. I’m in their living room, not that compound, not the holding cell. I’m sitting in the chair by the door. I chose it because it was the best vantage point that was the farthest away from the bedroom they’ve been in for days. The squeaking abruptly stops and all I can hear is the sound Desir’ee is making. For me. I don’t deserve it. I’ll never deserve it.
“Shhh,” she soothes. “We’ve got you. It’s okay.” She runs her fingers through my hair again, gently scratching my scalp. I can feel Michael and Ben stronger than before, their presence solid like sentries on either side of me. One of them places a hand on my back and the other one squeezes my shoulder, and I all but collapse against Desir’ee, holding her tight, pressing my face into her stomach while I weep.
Deep, wracking, wretched sobs drag out of me and she holds me the whole time, making soothing noises, comforting me with touch. All of them do. Every tear that forces its way out of me is soaked into the shirt she’s wearing that smells like them. They catch every horrible, choking sound that I make and take it from me.
I don’t know how long I let myself go, but when I can breathe again I’m exhausted and leaning against Desir’ee, giving her most of my weight. She never falters, not once. She holds me and lets me breathe without saying anything. The twins don’t say anything, either. They wait for me to decide what to do next and when to do it. I don’t want to. I don’t want to move or speak. I want to stay like this forever. But I can’t. I know that.
“I’m alright,” I whisper, still unable to pull away from her warmth.
“No,” she says, still petting my hair, “you aren’t. But it’s okay. You’re with us, we’ve got you.”
“I ruined your cycle,” I say, my voice rough. “They marked you. I ruined it.”
Desir’ee bends over and kisses the top of my head, her scent clouding around me, blocking everything else out. “You didn’t. Nothing can take away from what I feel with them, I promise. You needed me, you needed us. That’s all.”
I might cry again. I pull in another breath and let it out slowly before I look up at her. Deep pools of acceptance meet me and it’s almost too hard to look into them. “Thank you.” I don’t know what else I can say. It doesn’t come close to expressing what I feel, but that’s all I can manage.
She smiles down at me and tucks my hair behind my ear, or tries to. It isn’t quite long enough to stay. “I’m sorry we put you in this position. Thank you for coming.”
“Don’t,” I whisper, “please don’t. Don’t apologize. I’m glad I was here. I just have trouble sometimes.”
She cups my jaw, still smiling. “I’m glad you’re here, too.”
That forces me to remember what I overheard last night. She wanted me in her nest. My presence in a nest has never been requested, much less demanded. I’m not sure Desir’ee even wanted me in there to do more than just see it. It doesn’t matter, either. I would have shut down completely.
“No, no,” she says softly. “No. We’re all good now. We’re going to get cleaned up and go to breakfast. Have you been to the Rose Cafe yet? They have the best chile verde chilaquiles ever. We always go there after my heat. Can you stand going with us? Will the scent bother you? We’d shower, but we need it. I do, actually. I get really agitated and upset if they don’t smell like me afterwards.”
Yes. It will bother me. So much. But I can’t seem to stop myself from dragging in deep lungfuls of it. I have never been so terrified of something so fucking appealing. “No. It won’t bother me. I’ll be alright. Please, I’m sorry to ask, but please, will you wear… more? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, but I don’t think I can stand for people to eat you up right now like they did at the beach.”
Michael and Ben laugh in unison, then Ben says, “this is the only time we care what she wears. And it’s only because of the whole territorial thing with being in rut. Any other time we like it when people look at her. We have what they can’t have and we like to flaunt it because we’re assholes.”
“I hope I can get to that point of enlightenment before I die,” I say dryly, and they laugh again.
