Omega's Savior (Omega Destiny, International Book 3)

by Kian Rhodes

  Chuck rose from the chair he was straddling and made his way over to slip into the small coat closet, a muffled laugh before the closet door closed announcing he’d found my victim. Ignoring him, I dragged Rosemary back out and placed her in a chair at the table, ignoring the venomous look in her eyes as I propped her in the seat.

  Paul was already in his place at the table, the gag loosely fitted over his mouth when I draped the zip cuffs around his wrist. “If anything goes wrong, run,” I cautioned him. “Go around back and yell for help. You can trust the guys that Chuck brought, okay?”

  He nodded and drew in a deep breath right as the Senator burst in through the door, a black revolver clutched in his fist. He skidded to a stop, his eyes bouncing around the room wildly. “Rosemary, get over here!”

  When his wife didn’t move, the Senator began to wave the gun. “Rosemary!” he snapped, his voice rising several octaves. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I thought we had an agreement, Stewie,” I huffed, drawing his attention to me. “What the fuck is the deal with the gun?”

  “You wanted me to get rid of the kid,” he snarled, spinning to point the gun in Paul’s direction. “This is much faster than a fucking court case.”

  With his gun arm out of my line of sight, I was helpless to do anything but charge the man and hope I could get to him before he pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Paul

  Fiery pain sliced through my shoulder as the roar of the gun echoed through the room. A split second later, Sylas was dragging my father to the ground, their bodies tangled in a life or death struggle for control of the revolver.

  I pulled the zip cuffs off my wrists and ran for the door, shoving past two large men who were racing toward the sound of the gunshot instead of away from it.

  “Bane!” The first man yelled over his shoulder as he shoved me out the door.

  “On it!” Another voice yelled back as two strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me from my feet and carrying me toward the tree line behind the motel much faster than I could have run on my own. “We’re friendlies,” he grunted as I struggled against his tight hold. “Oof! You’re safe, I swear!”

  Once the trees were obscuring the view of the motel, the man carrying me set me down, helping me balance before rubbing his ribs. “You okay, Paul?”

  I stood silently, trying to slow my breathing. “Who are you?”

  “Oh, right,” the big man shuffled his feet. “Sorry. My name is Bane. I’m a friend of Chuck’s.”

  “One of the wolves,” I clarified. “The Alpha?”

  Bane laughed. “Hell, no. Just a lowly Beta. Our Alpha was the one who nearly ran you over racing toward the danger.”

  Oh. Right. I guess that made sense.

  “What are you doing?”

  Bane’s brow was furrowed but he remained calm. “Right now, I’m going to leave you here just long enough to get my first aid kit.” When I cocked my head, he nodded toward my shoulder. “You were shot. We need to stop the bleeding.”

  I followed his line of sight down and my stomach flipped at the sight of the bright red blood dripping down my arm. I weaved on my feet and Bane reached out to steady me.

  “Come over here,” he said gently, leading me to a small boulder and pressing on my uninjured shoulder until I sat. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

  I watched the blood dripping off my fingers and pooling on the dirt in horrified fascination until Sylas’s voice in my head surprised me.

  Blood? You’re hit?

  Silently cursing myself for distracting Sylas at such a dangerous moment, I tried to focus.

  I’m okay. I nicked myself or something, I tried to reassure him. One of the wolves is helping me, don’t worry about me.

  Instead of words, the response was a sudden, overwhelming rush of love and comfort as I waited on my rock for Bane’s return.

  “Here we are,” Bane said briskly, his no-nonsense tone comforting as he opened a battered red soft-sided bag and removed a large square of cotton. Handing it to me, he sought my eyes. “I need to remove your shirt. Are you okay with that?”

  “Yeah, fine,” I mumbled, my throat suddenly dry as dust. I sat without moving as the bloody fabric was worked off my arm and pulled over my head. Reaching for the cotton, Bane pressed it to the wound, pressing here and there until I winced and stifled a whimper.

  “Well, the bad news is that the bullet is still in there,” he said after a moment. “The good news is that it didn’t hit anything important.” With nimble fingers, Bane proceeded to clean the blood away and wrap my shoulder in soft, white gauze. “I know you don’t want to but you’re going to have to come with me,” he said softly. “We need to get that bullet removed as soon as possible.”

  “But..” I started to protest only to have Bane shake his head.

  “Rafe will explain and Sy will meet you at the hospital,” he assured me, “but they’re still dealing with shit in there and this is kind of an emergency.”

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath and let Bane lead me back to the parking lot.

  “With your arm, you won’t be able to hold on to me,” he said with a frown as he stopped in front of one of the large black motorcycles and pulled a leather jacket from a bin on the back. He slid my good arm in the sleeve and then buttoned the top to keep it on my shoulders. “So, I’m going to have you sit in front of me, okay? It’s going to be crowded, but I promise it’s only out of necessity.”

  I wasn’t sure exactly what he was talking about until he helped me onto his bike and crowded on behind me. To be able to reach the handlebars, Bane had to press his entire body against mine, his chin resting on my good shoulder.

  “Hold on to the sides of the gas tank,” he instructed, showing me where to place my hands. “And if you start to get dizzy, tap my arm, okay?”

  “Okay,” I managed to agree weakly, gritting my teeth against the pain that vibrated through me when the bike growled to life.

  “Okay, Paul, hold on,” he said as his thigh shifted against me. “Here we go!”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Sylas

  “Where is he?” I snarled, storming to a stop in front of the plexiglass window labelled Information.

  Startled, the middle-aged woman jerked her head up from the paperwork in front of her, her pale blue eyes widening when she saw me. “I..who?”

  “My husband,” I snapped. “Paul. Where the fuck..”

  “Stop it!” Chuck hissed a warning as he caught up to me and shouldered me aside. “Excuse my friend,” he said politely, smiling at the woman. “He’s overwrought. He’s looking for the gunshot victim who was brought in a short time ago, Paul Rogers.”

  “Oh, of course,” she murmured, relaxing slightly even as she shot a look at me from the corner of her eye. Tapping on the keyboard in front of her, she nodded to the locked door beside her. “He’s in the exam room now. If you could show me some identification, I can let you back.”

  “Certainly.” Chuck pulled his driver’s license from his wallet and passed it over before raising his brow to me.

  “Don’t have it,” I grunted through clenched teeth. “Forgot my wallet.”

  Chuck sighed. “Where’s your phone?”

  Oh. Right. I kept a picture of it on there precisely for situations like this. Pulling up the photos file, I swiped through them until I reached the one I needed.

  “Can you accept that?” Chuck asked calmly, pulling a folded paper from his wallet and passing it over. “I have a copy of their marriage certificate and I’m sure that Paul can confirm his identity.”

  Before she could respond, a familiar voice came from the corridor behind her.

  “Sylas?” Paul’s voice was uncomfortably high. “Is that you?”

  “It’s me, baby.” I assured him, craning my neck to see past the ceiling-high shelves blocking my view. “I’m trying to get to you, baby.”

  Something metal clattered to the floor.
>
  “Let go of me!” Paul snapped. “I want my husband!”

  “Paul, calm down,” another voice said firmly. “You’re going to injure yourself worse.”

  “Let me go!” Paul insisted. “Let him in or I’m refusing treatment!”

  My anger rose as I heard my Omega fighting to be reunited with me and Chuck promptly intervened again.

  “Ma’am,” Chuck spoke firmly. “You can hear for yourself that the patient has identified his husband.”

  Squaring her jaw, the woman pressed a button beside her on the table. The door buzzed before slowly gliding open.

  I strode through, coming to a sudden stop when I saw Paul being carefully pinned to the wall by a large, muscular man whose scent screamed wolf.

  “Calm down,” he was murmuring. “You’ll aggravate the wound. They’ll let him in.”

  “I’m here,” I said gruffly, smiling gently when Paul’s eyes snapped to me.

  The wolf eased the pressure off Paul’s chest, holding him steady until he was sure that Paul had his balance before releasing him completely.

  “Thank God,” Paul choked out, rushing into my waiting arms and clinging to me. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

  “I’m fine, love,” I assured him, burying my nose in his neck for a long moment and breathing in his unique fragrance. “Did you get fixed up?”

  “I..”

  An annoyed looking orderly interrupted. “We were on our way to the operating room to have the bullet removed when he saw you.”

  I brushed my finger over the pink-stained gauze. “Come on, Tiger. Let’s get you taken care of and then I’ll take you home.”

  “Is..did you get everything taken care of?” Paul asked, biting down on his lip as I helped him back up onto the gurney that the orderly gestured to.

  “Everything is fine,” I said firmly, gently pressing him back until he was lying down. “But we need to get that bullet out of you.” When Paul started to sit back up, I narrowed my eyes until he gave a sigh and lowered his head to the pillow.

  “Yes, Alpha,” he said with a sweet smile that had my heart fluttering.

  “Good boy,” I said gruffly, dragging my fingertips down his cheek before stepping back so the orderly could take his position at the head of the gurney.

  “Sir? You’re going to have to wait here,” a nurse gestured to a small curtained off cubicle off the main hallway. “Visitors aren’t allowed in the operating room.”

  “Of course,” I huffed, bending down to brush Paul’s lips with mine. “Behave. I’ll be waiting.”

  Paul reached up to pat my cheek. “You better be.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Paul

  Once in the operating room, I was relieved to learn that my so-called operation wasn’t actually all that serious. Hell, they didn’t even knock me out. Instead, the orderly helped me into a chair sitting against the wall, an anesthesiologist shot me up with a numbing agent before the doctor that had initially examined me poked and prodded a bit. She dropped something into a stainless-steel bowl with a thunk.

  “Here it is,” she announced, setting the bowl in my lap.

  “Really?” I studied the bloody bit of squashed metal in surprise. “That’s a bullet?”

  She nodded and then reached for a bottle with a long nozzle to irrigate the wound. “I’m no expert, but since it lodged in soft tissue without hitting bone, I’m guessing that it must have deflected off something before it hit you. That’s why it is out of shape and didn’t go all the way through.”

  “Huh.” I sat without moving as she stitched up the hole in my shoulder and covered it with a bandage.

  She finished her work in silence, finishing off the neat little stitches by tying a knot and trimming the thread with a flourish. “There you are Mr. Rogers,” she said warmly. “A couple of weeks and you’ll be good as new.”

  The orderly escorted me back to the emergency room cubicle that my exam had begun in to wait for my discharge orders where I found Sylas glaring at a uniformed police officer while the ever-calm director of Omega Destiny, International gave a statement regarding how I’d been injured.

  “Mr. Rogers,” the officer interrupted as I walked through the curtain. “I need to take your statement.”

  “Okay.” I hesitated between sitting on the edge of the hospital bed or taking the chair next to Sylas so he made the decision for me, wrapping one arm around my waist and gently easing me into his lap. “What do you need to know?”

  “Do you know who shot you?”

  “My father,” I said without hesitation. “Stuart Davis.”

  The officer’s lack of reaction suggested that Sylas and Chuck had already told him that.

  “That would be Senator Stuart Davis?” he confirmed with a frown.

  I nodded.

  “And according to your, um, husband,” he said slowly, glancing over at Sylas, “it was during a failed kidnapping attempt?”

  “Not failed, exactly,” I tried to clarify. “My stepmother and half-brother did kidnap me,” I explained, “but my husband found us and rescued me.” I snuggled back against Sylas’s chest, his arms tightening around me. “But then my father showed up and shot me.”

  “I see.” The officer finished scribbling in his notebook before reeling off Sylas’s address and phone number. “Is this contact information all good?”

  I nodded again.

  “I’m sure one of the detectives will be in touch to get more information, but for now I think that’s all I need.”

  “Good, Sylas interjected, helping me to my feet and standing. “In that case, let’s get you home.”

  The walk to the parking lot was enough to leave me exhausted.

  “Motherfucker!” I groaned when I inadvertently bumped my shoulder climbing up into the backseat of the SUV Chuck was driving.

  “Language,” Sylas tsk’d as he steadied me and then reached over to carefully fasten my seat belt. “Is that comfortable?”

  “Yeah. As comfortable as it’s going to get, I guess.” I said through a yawn. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

  “It’s because of the anesthetic they gave you to remove the bullet,” Chuck offered from the driver’s seat. “Even though they didn’t knock you all the way out, it will still stay in your system for a couple of days.”

  “Oh.” I probably should have said more, but another yawn overtook me. When Sylas climbed into the backseat with me, I sighed and leaned against his shoulder as he and Chuck discussed mundane details like drive time and picking up my prescriptions.

  “Get some rest, Tiger,” Sylas murmured in my ear, his lips brushing over my cheek. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  “I know,” I agreed sleepily, pressing a kiss to the shoulder I was leaning against. “No one’s ever taken care of me like you do.” I nuzzled closer. “Love you.”

  There was a brief silence, but I was too tired to realize what had caused it. Then Sylas leaned down to press a gentle kiss to my lips. “I love you, too, Paul.”

  As warmth and contentment washed over me, I closed my eyes and let sleep pull me under.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Sylas

  “I’m tired of resting!” Paul huffed with a scowl. “I’ve been asleep for two days.”

  “That’s an exaggeration,” I observed, biting back a grin at the pout on Paul’s lips. “I mean, granted, I’ve been telling you to sleep for two days but you’ve mostly read, played games on your phone, and watched tv.”

  “Exactly!” Paul snapped as if I’d somehow agreed with him. “No sex at all.”

  I had to swallow a laugh. “Tiger, you literally have a hole in your shoulder,” I reminded him. “I’m pretty sure that getting laid isn’t in the doctor’s treatment plan.”

  “You don’t know that,” Paul groused, sticking his lip out further.

  “Want me to call and ask?” I bluffed.

  “Yes.” Paul crossed his arms defiantly as he called. “On speakerphone.”
/>   Okay, he won that round.

  “Paul,” I groaned, shaking my head. “I am not going to risk hurting you.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “But I’m bored,” he whined.

  A grown man whining like a spoiled brat shouldn’t be cute, but, well, it was my Omega and there really isn’t anything I didn’t like about him, so..

  “Tell you what,” I cajoled, pulling him close for a hug. “Pick something else to do tonight and if you still want to tomorrow, I’ll get you off. Deal?”

  Paul raised a brow. “I get to pick anything?”

  I held back a groan. “Nothing sexual or dangerous or that requires leaving the house,” I specified.

  “Fine,” Paul agreed with a smirk, stepping out of my embrace and walking over to settle into his usual spot in the corner of the couch. “Come talk to me.”

  Really? After all that fuss he just wanted to talk? Suspicion started to weave through me as I followed him to the sofa. “Okay. What about?”

  “Tell me all about you,” he said with a grin.

  Well, crap.

  “Um.” I frowned at him, trying to figure out where to start.

  “Start with what not exactly a dragon means,” Paul suggested, settling against the cushions like a kid at story time.

  “Okay.” I hesitated again but wasn’t sure why. I mean, Paul had already seen my monster and he hadn’t been scared, but that was in the heat of the adrenaline filled moment and he hadn’t really mentioned it again. Bracing myself, I decided to tear the scab off. “I’m a basilisk,” I said and held my breath. Whatever response I’d expected, it wasn’t for Paul to burst out laughing. “Um, that’s funny?”

  “Telling me that you’re a fictional creature from Harry Potter?” Paul snickered. “Yep. That’s funny.”

  I had no idea how to respond to that so I just sat and looked at him, my brow furrowed in confusion. It took Paul a minute to realize I wasn’t responding.

  “Wait,” he said, coughing to clear his throat. “Are you serious?”

  “As a cat in a pack of dogs,” I confirmed.

  Paul frowned. “Does that mean yes?”

  I held back a laugh and nodded.