Page 47 of Carmichael's Omega

"Do you get the fridge stocked?" I call out when I see the fresh fruit in the bottom drawer.

"Yeah," he replies, "I think Lyall or Alpha Alex called it in." He's turned his back, sitting on the stool at the island I'm working at, pretending to watch our show on the TV.

"I'll clean it all up, Mattie."

"You don't have to, Cass," he scolds gently, but he doesn't turn around.

"I know you hate making a mess," I tell him, "but I kind of have to." I put a stack of mixing bowls on the counter. Then I grab the spoons, and the mixer, which already has three bowls nestled inside. Oops. I bend to put the first stack back and miss the bottom bowl. It hits the floor with a clatter. "Oops! Sorry!" I toss the bowl into the sink to wash. I just leave the others on the counter. I'll put them away after I clean the bottom bowl.

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Matthew

Goddess, she's a mess. It used to rankle when we were still in high school, but after living with Kenneth and having Dylan stalk me, my twin is a breath of fresh air. Especially when she keeps apologizing as she drops and spills and splatters her way to making something that smells and tastes utterly divine.

"I have strawberries," I tell her with a note of hope in my voice.

"Got 'em," Cassie replies. I turn and keep my eyes determinedly on her face instead of the countertops. There's a smudge of powdered sugar on her cheek. Odd, that, since I don't see the powdered sugar anywhere on the counter. "I also found walnuts and all kinds of morsels. Chocolate, and butterscotch, even mint!" Her eyes sparkle in excitement.

I start drooling as she pours the batter and whips the frosting. I can't wait for the forty minutes it'll take for the cake to bake. Crap, she'll probably insist on letting it cool and 'set,' too. Whatever that means.

Cassie slides a plate of strawberries drizzled with frosting and chocolate shavings my way. "To tide you over," she smirks at me.

"I love you the most," I tell her solemnly.

"I know," she replies, just as seriously. Then she steals a strawberry.

"Now Velia is my favorite," I grumble.

Cassie snorts, "worth it."

We chat and laugh until the buzzer sounds again. I try to hide my worry as Cassie fusses with other deserts she's decided I need to have during the week when she's not here to bake for me.

I swallow and hurry to the call-box before she can get to it.

"Hello?" I ask, my voice low and raspy.

"Mattie." The voice is deep, flat, and incredibly intimidating. "Let me up. Now."

I look at a pale Cassie. "Don't!" she hisses softly. "I smell like... like him, Mattie!"

"What am I supposed to say?" I growl back. "Come back when Cassie doesn't smell like a motorcycle-riding, tattooed bad boy!"

"Don't you judge Carm, Matthew Hunter Daschel," she straightens up, pinning me with a glare.

"It's anobservation, Cassie. You're the one who's lost her virginity to a male who, and I quote, 'is my mate, sort of!'"

The snarl that echoes through the call-box is truly one of pure terror-inducing, boxer-crapping rage.

"Mattie!" Teague snarls.

I squeak and take my finger off of the talk button. Cassie meets my gaze, as horrified as I feel. "We're going to be forced to move back to ClearHowl. I'll never be a doctor. You'll be locked in the attic."

Cassie takes a deep, shuddering breath before she squares her shoulders. "We're adults. Teague can't stop us from living our lives."

I buzz Teague in with the offending finger that doesn't know to release the 'talk' button. Cassie and I wait, barely making any noise. It's silent as the grave, but I canfeelhim approaching like a prowling predator makes a hush fall over the forest.

I open the door, and Teague steps inside the apartment. Almost immediately, he stops in the doorway as if there's an invisible barrier. He bends over, hands on his knees, and makes a noise through his teeth that suspiciously sounds like a tea kettle. Slowly, inch by inch, Teague straightens back up until he towers over us both again.

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