Page 69 of Stolen Omega

I use my calming touch on him.

Even if I can’t tell what his mood is, I can feel how frenzied his energy is. He needs this. He needs me, even if he’ll never admit it.

“That feels so good,” he murmurs, as his energy starts to change.

His body relaxes, and his expression slackens off.

He’s exhausted. Whatever else he was feeling, he was running on empty.

“Just sleep,” I tell him. “You need it.”

He murmurs something inaudible and then slouches back, his head falling forward as he basically passes out. My hand feels like it’s throbbing when I remove it from his shoulder.

That’s not supposed to happen, but I’m not supposed to heal the energy of someone I’m not officially bonded to. It doesn’t matter if we should be bonded. He’s never claimed me, and I’ve never accepted his mark. We might as well be strangers.

At least if we were, I wouldn’t be facing jail time.

I undo his seatbelt carefully, getting ready to move him into the passenger seat so I can drive us back into town and find a doctor who can help him, preferably before he wakes up refreshed and ready to commit more crimes.

It only takes a second for the guilt over leaving a woman trapped in a box in the back of the van to get to me. It’s probably not smart to let her out, but I can’t live with leaving her in there, no matter how safe Zane’s explained to me that her transport box is.

He should know, considering he designed it.

Apparently, it’s perfectly safe to spend hours inside that thing.

Not that anyone would want to.

It’s kind of a weird coincidence that Zelena’s management went to his company with the request for a custom-made solution for transport storage. I have no idea how that happened, and I don’t think I want to know.

Zane has always been good at engineering things to make sure they go his way.

He must have done something to make it happen, and that something was probably sketchy as hell.

I grab the van keys and get out of the passenger side as quietly as possible.

I’m not sure how long Zane will sleep for, and I don’t want to do anything that might risk waking him.

At least not until I’ve gotten us out of here. Wherever here is.

I get to the back of the van and say a little prayer that the panicky Omega isn’t going to run off or wake Zane before I can get her to understand what’s happening and what we need to do.

If talking fails, I guess I’ve got my touch.

Her energy is as frantic as Zane’s was.

She’ll probably pass out like he did.

I can only hope.

I unlock the doors and pull them open.

The box sits there nestled in the middle of the van, straps holding it in the bolted-on grooves that keep it from sliding around while the vehicle is in transit. It’s going to be a little awkward to climb inside. I turn around, about to boost myself up to sit on the floor, when Zane catches hold of me, his arm snaking around my waist.

My breath catches, and for one dumb, lovesick moment, I think he’s about to kiss me.

Instead, I feel a nip at my throat, and the sudden woozy feeling that comes over me tells me what he just did. Unfortunately, Alphas don’t have healing touches. But this Alpha has a depressed syringe in the hand that isn’t stroking my side.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, as my limbs get too heavy to move. “I didn’t want it to be this way.”

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