Page 21 of The Omega Lesson

They’re almost as comforting as a jambon and gruyere toastie, but still…

“We can clean while we wait for Ben.”

I pull a face at that, even as my fingers twitch at the sight of a microfibre dust cloth. “I’ve called my cleaning service. They should be here in an hour.”

“Well, we can give them a head start.” He tosses the cloth at me. “Go knock yourself out, Travis.”

It’s said through clenched teeth, so I don’t argue. And as we work to put the rampage room back in order, I feel the tempest in my stomach start to ease. After I’ve buffed the Steinway back to a pristine shine, I pause and look at Jack. “I’m sorry I did that to you. But I really thought she was in a rut.”

He tilts his head, his dark eyes accusing. “Because she wouldn’t be with me unless her hormones were raging?”

“No. Fuck no! I’veneverthought that about you, Jack.” I rub the piano top some more, certain I can increase the shine. “But you have to admit, the car smelled strange. I mean, it didn’t smell like a normal alpha and omega...”

“Normal?” he bristles.

Ah, shit. “I don’t mean it like that. I’m trying to say it smelled…strong.”

Irresistible. Alluring. Mouth-watering.

“And why was that a problem? You’ve never cared about who I’m with before. In fact, I can’t remember the last time you asked about my personal life. So, what was it exactly that shook your iron control?”

I squeeze the cloth between my fingers, sensing about a hundred landmines in front of me. “I was just being careful.”

“You mean obsessive.”

I huff. “Well, Iambuffing a baby grand at one in the morning.”

He sighs, some of the fight going out of him. “You’re still struggling with the urges? They haven’t got any better?”

I blink at him. It’s been a while since anyone other than my therapist asked me that question. “I prefer to call them cycles,” I tell him. “And yes, they’re still sending me for a loop.”

Jack nods and drops the sponge he’s been using on the coffee table. I try not to betray my relief, but it has a glass top, and he’s using a generic cleaner that streaks like nobody’s business. It takes me a moment to realise he’s saying something. “What?”

“I said I think I triggered Lexi into a switch. Either last night at the parent-teacher conference, or tonight in the car. I thought she was just into me. An alpha female, and me off my meds…” He looks up at me and bites his lip. “The plan was to come out slowly and start living as an omega. I guess, given what happened, you think that was a bad idea.”

“Not at all. I’ve always hated that shit dad forced on you.” I pick up one of the dirty wine glasses and stare at the cigarette butt floating in the bottom. “Last thing I told him was that I was headed to the airport to bring you home. I was going to introduce you to the world as Gordon Lyall’s omega son. I told him I’d hired skywriters to pass over his country club and taken out a full page in the Times.”

Jack’s jaw is hanging open, and he gives a startled laugh. “Fuck. That would’ve finished the old bastard off for sure. But why didn’t you? Come and get me, I mean?”

“Because it’s your decision who you tell and when. Alexa wasn’t wrong about that. You deserve to be you, Jackson, in whatever way makes you happy.”

He’s quiet for a while, dipping the sponge in the water bucket and squeezing it over and over. I watch him, a little mesmerised, until he drops it and asks, “And if that’s joining the Cliff boys and Lexi in a pack? You’re okay with that?”

I stare around at the sea of dirty glasses and feel the tempest whip back to life in my belly. I fucking hate waste, and that’s all I can see. It doesn’t matter that the Lyall Corporation can buy thousands of pianos and an ocean of wine. Having nice things comes with responsibility. And when you squander it, you’re lower than dirt in my book. Which is pretty fucking low, given my particular cleaning obsession.

“You should do what makes you happy…”

The words are barely out of my mouth when there’s a knock at the door. And since it’s hard enough to rattle the frame – and I told the cleaning service where the spare key lives – I’m not surprised that Jack returns with Benjamin in tow. My best friend is still in his tux, but like my brother, he’s ditched his tie. He also looks like he’s been pulling his hair out for the better part of an hour.

“Just tell me why,” he growls as he strides towards me. “Why would you risk our pack, Travis?”

I arch an eyebrow at him. I know what Ishouldsay, but my therapist isn’t a miracle worker. “You can’t risk something that doesn’t exist.”

“Like your fucking heart?” Ben rakes his fingers through the wild bush on his head, his anger radiating off him in waves. I’m not immune. Heartless, maybe, but I can definitely appreciate how upset he is. The problem is, I’m a master at suppression in all its forms. He could pick up the piano and throw it at me, and I probably wouldn’t twitch. Being a Lyall, it’s something that’s bred into us, like an evolutionary adaptation. You want to survive in this family, you get titanium nerves and a three-inch skin, or you die of a thousand cuts.

Or at least, that’s my excuse for what I say next. “Our pack was over the day Christian died.”

“Jesus!” Jack gives me a filthy look and sinks to the floor, right next to his dirty bucket of water.

---