The Hidden Omega

by Wilder, J. L.

  Zoe, predictably, is less delicate. She pulls a fist sized rock out of her pocket and brings it down on the head of the second door guard. “What the hell?” I hiss as she eases him to the ground.

  “He’s out, isn’t he?” she responds.

  “Clay, check him,” I say.

  Clay does. “He’s alive. He’ll be all right, I think.”

  “He’s gonna have a pretty serious headache,” I grumble. “All right. Come on.” I open the door.

  And step back, stunned.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  LANE

  I fly across the room into Bruno’s arms. He catches me and holds me tight against his chest, but then pushes me back to arm’s length so he can look me over. “Are you hurt? What happened here?”

  “It was all Lane, really,” Greg speaks up from his seat on the floor against the far wall. He points to my would-be attacker, who’s now lying on the floor with a gag in his mouth and his hands bound behind his back. “As soon as she knew I was outside, she rushed him. They were wrestling when I came in.”

  “He would have gotten the best of me in a few seconds,” I tell Bruno. “But Greg was able to subdue him.” I took a real gamble by engaging physically with that man. If Greg hadn’t come in when he did, I could have been seriously hurt. “I can’t take credit for much,” I say. “Greg pulled him off me and pinned him down with a knee to the back. Greg tied his hands.”

  “You gagged him,” Greg says.

  “Mmm!” The bound man on the floor lets out an angry grunt and struggles against the ties that hold him in place. Greg kicks at him lightly. “Quiet,” he says. “We could do a lot worse than this.”

  “How did you get in?” I ask Bruno, pulling him close again. “We thought there were guards outside.”

  “There were.” Zoe pushes to the front of the group. Her eye is blackened from the fight back in the woods, but I’m relieved to see that other than that she looks unhurt. “We took care of them.”

  “I can’t believe you’re here.” I reach out a hand and squeeze hers. “I can’t believe you all came after me.”

  “Of course,” Mike says. “We’re a pack.”

  “They told me —”

  Bruno’s hand is moving in slow circles on my back. His other arm is so tight around me that I wonder if he’s trying to fuse me against his body. “What did they tell you?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

  “They told me the only reason you wanted me was that omegas are valuable,” I admit. “They said that’s the only reason anyone would want me.”

  Bruno doesn’t answer, just kisses the crown of my head.

  “You don’t believe that,” Mike says.

  “I don’t want to,” I say.

  “Because we wanted you before we knew you were an omega,” he reminds me. “We wanted you as soon as we knew you were a shifter. We like that you’re an omega, but we like that you’re Lane even more. That’s what matters.”

  “Well said,” Bruno says quietly.

  “Thanks, Mike,” I say, and he wraps his arms around me and Bruno together. A moment later I feel additional pressure and know that Clay has joined our embrace.

  “This is really touching,” Zoe says, “but do you think we could get out of here before they try to kill us?”

  “I hate to admit it, but she’s right,” Greg says. “Escape now, hug later.”

  Everyone separates except Bruno, who keeps one hand on my arm. I can feel his reluctance to let me go. He’s overprotective, but right now we’re in danger and his instinct to keep me safe isn’t an annoyance, it’s a comfort. I lean into him, anxious to get out of here before anything else goes wrong.

  Zoe leads the way out into the hall. I stare at the two downed guards beside the door. “Are they dead?” I whisper to Bruno.

  He tightens his arm around me. “Just knocked out. It’s okay.”

  “Where’s Robbie?” Greg asks as we descend to the first floor.

  “Around here somewhere, according to Zoe,” Clay says. “Let’s get Lane out, and then we’ll find him.”

  “No, hang on,” I protest. “I’m not leaving without everyone.”

  “Do what he says, Lane,” Bruno says. I feel the weight of it and know it’s an order. I won’t be able to refuse. “You did a good job on the one upstairs, but you aren’t a fighter. We’ll all be able to focus better if we know you’re away and safe.” He turns to Zoe. “I want you to go with her.”

  “Like hell,” Zoe says. “He’s my brother.”

  “She’s a strong fighter,” Greg says. “She’ll be useful.”

  “Fine,” Bruno says. “Mike, you take her. It’s an order. I don’t have time to argue about this. Go now.” He detaches himself from me and steers me into Mike’s arms. “Get to the bikes and go. The rest of us will catch up.”

  Mike nods. “I’ll see you back at camp,” he says. If I didn’t know him as well as I do, maybe I wouldn’t hear the uncertainty in his voice, the fear that he won’t see everyone back at the camp after all and that this might be goodbye. We’re all thinking it, but none of us dare acknowledge it. Their odds are good now, I tell myself. There are four of them. Five, if they find Robbie. And as long as none of this pack wakes up, their enemies are down to two. So, everything’s going to be fine. It’s fine that Mike and I are leaving. I try to squash the agony inside me, the desire to stay with my pack. It’s not like I have a choice here. My order is to go.

  “Leaving so soon?” a familiar voice interrupts my thoughts.

  I spin around. It’s the pack alpha, a grin splitting his face. He’s got Robbie in one hand, holding him by the back of his shirt, and in his other hand is a gun. He cocks the gun and points it right at Robbie’s head.

  “No!” Zoe cries.

  Greg steps forward. “Tell us what you want. Just please don’t hurt my son.”

  The alpha laughs. “What I want? You know what I want. I want my omega.”

  “She’s not yours, Harlan,” Bruno says, his voice tight.

  The alpha — Harlan — looks half mad. “What’s the matter, Bruno?” he asks. “Not ready to accept the truth?”

  “I accept it,” Bruno says. “I understand who I am. I’m born to be an alpha. And if you doubt my ability to accept that fact, look around you. Look at my pack. Look at my family.”

  “What is he talking about?” I whisper to Mike. Mike just shakes his head and pulls me closer. He’s my packmate, and I know he’ll do whatever he can to protect me. My pack would never put me in harm’s way.

  But this man, this Harlan, has Robbie. And Robbie is part of our pack, too.

  Harlan presses the gun against Robbie’s temple. “Give me the omega,” he says. “This is your last chance, Bruno. Give me the girl, and the rest of you walk out of here with your lives.”

  “And if I refuse?” Bruno asks, his voice tight.

  “This one dies,” Harlan says. “And then we fight.”

  “You can’t hope to fight us,” Bruno says. “You’re alone.”

  “That won’t save him,” Harlan says, jerking his head toward Robbie. “And it might be I’ll take one or two of you with me. Without an omega, my pack is dead anyway. You give her to me, we all live. If not, we roll the dice.”

  “Don’t do it,” Robbie says through gritted teeth. “Take her and go, Bruno, I mean it.”

  I look at Bruno. This is tearing him up. He can’t turn me over to these people, not knowing the kind of life I’d have with them. But Robbie is one of his pack too. He can’t sacrifice his brother’s life. It’s an impossible choice to make.

  But I can make it for him.

  I slip free of Mike’s grip and step forward, stopping when I’m shoulder to shoulder with Zoe. “All right,” I say, forcing myself to meet Harlan’s eyes. It’s almost impossible to do. I’m so afraid. This man sees me as less than human. He’ll treat me as less than human. I try to suppress the shivers that are running through my body. “Let him go,” I say. “Let him go and I’ll stay wit
h you.”

  “No.” Bruno reaches for me.

  I pull away. “You said it was my choice, Bruno. You said I could leave any time I wanted to.”

  His face is agony. “You don’t want this. I know you don’t want this.”

  “I can’t let him kill Robbie.” I turn back to Harlan. “Let him go.”

  “Smart girl.” He flicks the safety on the gun, holsters it, and pushes Robbie back into Greg’s arms. One hand snakes out and grabs me by the wrist. I feel like vomiting. “Take him and go,” he says almost carelessly to the others.

  Bruno glances around at the rest. “You heard him.”

  Nobody moves.

  “Don’t order us out of here, Bruno,” Clay says. “We know you’re going to fight for her.”

  Harlan’s hand rests on the butt of his gun. “Not if he knows what’s good for him, he won’t.”

  “Assume I don’t know what’s good for me,” Bruno growls.

  “Boy, I’ve been assuming that your whole life.” Harlan sighs. “I didn’t want it to end like this. You may be a disappointment, but you’re still my son.”

  “And you may be my father, but you’re an evil son of a bitch.” Bruno lets out a snarl. I can practically see his hackles rising, and I’m so transfixed by the purity of his rage that it takes me a moment to process what he said. His father?

  The two stare each other down for several seconds. It’s one of the most intense and terrifying stretches of time in my life. Harlan’s grip tightens on my wrist until I’m afraid it might break.

  Then Harlan draws his gun.

  And Bruno, with a roar of rage, bursts into bear form and charges.

  Someone’s hands pull me down as a shot goes off. Someone cries out in pain. There’s a thud. Then the world is quiet.

  I can’t think. My brain fills with white noise. I have no idea what’s happening around me. Slowly, gradually, my senses come back to me and I regain the ability to process information.

  Rust and gun smoke.

  A heavy weight holding me to the floor.

  Moans of pain and heavy breathing.

  Soft voices.

  The weight on top of me moves. “Are you okay?” Clay’s voice asks urgently. The hands on my shoulders must be his. “Can you sit up?”

  I roll over and move slowly into a sitting position. “I’m all right,” I assure him, testing my limbs carefully.

  “Sorry I had to tackle you,” he says. “Didn’t want you getting shot.”

  The gunshot. “Who was hit?”

  “Bruno. It’s a shoulder wound,” Clay says quickly as I jump to my feet. “He’s okay. Greg’s cleaning him up now.”

  “What about Harlan?”

  Clay points.

  I see boots poking through a broken doorframe. A part of me doesn’t want to look, wants to spare myself the knowledge. But my pack knows what happened here. I want to be a part of this pack. Everything we do, we do together. So, I look.

  Harlan lies flat on his back, claw marks raked across his chest. He’s breathing — he’s alive — but I can’t tell if he’s conscious. Emily kneels at his side, phone in one hand, dish towel in the other, doing her best to stop the bleeding.

  She looks up at me. “Go,” she whispers. “Now. While you can.”

  I wish I could thank her. I wish I could save her from this place. I wish I had the time to figure out all the right choices and make them. But she’s called the authorities, I know, and at the end of the day I have to think of my pack.

  We leave the house and run, stretching our legs, stretching into our animal selves, putting all the distance we can between our family and this hell. Greg, Bruno, and Clay go for the motorcycles, but the rest of us run together. I know it’s a long way home, but right now I couldn’t be happier to be under the stars with Zoe, Robbie, and Mike.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  LANE

  “Are you hungry?” Clay asks.

  I roll onto my side slowly. “You worry too much; do you know that?”

  “But are you?” Clay persists.

  “Yes,” I admit.

  He nods as if he anticipated my answer, which I suppose he might well have. Lately, I’m hungry all the time. It’s only the third month of my pregnancy, but my belly has already grown substantially and my breasts are huge. I struggle to my feet and follow Clay to the fireside, perching awkwardly on the log. This seat isn’t as comfortable as it used to be.

  Clay reaches into his duffel and pulls out a couple of grocery bags. “Peanut butter and jelly, like you asked for,” he says, handing me bottles and a bag of bread. “Plus, some broccoli and a brick of cheese.”

  “I can’t eat a whole brick of cheese,” I protest.

  “I bet you could,” Clay grins.

  He’s probably right. My appetite is out of control. Eating for who knows how many is a full-time job. “You have to share it with me,” I tell him.

  “Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll make us some sandwiches, and you break the cheese.”

  “That’s hardly an even division of work.”

  “Neither is this.” He gestures at my stomach.

  “Good point.” I relinquish the peanut butter and jelly. I’m happy to let Clay take care of things for me. It seems to make him happy, and the truth is that I don’t have the energy I’m accustomed to. The babies are really taking it out of me.

  Clay and I eat in companionable silence. One thing I like about spending time with him is that there’s not a lot of need to talk. There’s a comfort in his presence, like sitting in the shade of a big tree. Clay means safety and security.

  “Do you think Bruno will ever forgive me?” I ask after a while, when my sandwich has been devoured and my cheese is all but gone.

  “Bruno isn’t mad at you,” Clay says, but the heavy tone of his voice lets me know that he knows exactly what I’m talking about.

  “He hasn’t spoken to me since Montreal, and that was months ago,” I point out. It’s not strictly true, of course — Bruno speaks to me in passing, and when it’s necessary to get things done, but we haven’t had any meaningful conversations. He hasn’t sought out my bed since we’ve been back. I know something’s wrong, but he won’t tell me what it is.

  “He’s not really talking to anyone,” Clay says. “I think he’s still upset about, you know. Harlan.”

  “I can’t believe that man was his father,” I say.

  Clay shrugs. “It makes sense. We always wondered how Bruno could suddenly be an alpha, when he’d never manifested as one before, when he’d always believed himself to be a beta. It was because he was living in his father’s house. But he inherited the gene from Harlan and getting out from under Harlan’s thumb allowed him to step into his birthright.”

  I shake my head. “I get why that would upset him — finding out he’s not who he always thought he was — but there’s something else. I know it. He really seems angry with me.”

  “You’re over worrying.” Clay kisses my forehead, takes my hands, and pulls me to my feet. “Come and lie down.”

  I let him take me to bed. We’ve pushed together a pile of blankets in the corner of the shelter to serve as my personal sleeping space while I’m pregnant, allowing me to stay off the ground and sleep more comfortably. I shed my shirt and jeans and climb into the nest, and Clay eases in behind me, molding his body to mine. His hand strokes my side slowly, relaxing me, tracing the rise of my belly before dipping down and moving to cup my full breasts. I arch into his hand, pressing my hips back against him, wanting.

  “Everyone’s at the river,” he whispers huskily in my ear. He nibbles at my neck and I squirm with pleasure.

  “I know they are,” I say. “It’s just us.”

  He’s so gentle with me now. He shifts our clothes aside and eases into me, his slow pace driving me insane. I want to reach back and pull close, make him go harder, faster, but I know he never will while I’m in this state. It’s pure delicious torment. I bite down on his hand to keep from crying ou
t as he pauses, unmoving, feeling me, letting me feel him.

  “Shh,” he whispers, circling my swollen nipple with his thumb. “You’re breathing so hard.”

  “You’re not helping...”

  “What would help?”

  “Move. Damn it.”

  He chuckles, low and happy, and obeys. Immediately, I’m on another plane. My body is so sensitive lately, so responsive. He nuzzles into my neck and whispers things I can’t hear, his breath hot and feathery on my skin. He maintains a slow, even pace, even as I hear his breath begin to hitch and know he’s approaching climax.

  We come together, our hands slipping against each other’s skin, struggling for purchase and unable to find anything to grip. As I come back to myself, I feel his chest heaving behind me and know I succeeded in breaking through his often superhuman seeming control. “That was amazing,” he says softly.

  “It’s been even better lately,” I agree, though I can’t believe such a thing is even possible. I thought my sex life had reached its pinnacle. But since I’ve been pregnant, I’m discovering new aspects of the men I love. There’s new tenderness in the way they hold me, new mastery in the way they touch me. As a result, I’ve been walking around camp vaguely turned on all the time, and almost any situation can turn sexual without warning.

  At least, with Clay and Mike it can. With Bruno, things are colder than ever.

  And even though I don’t want to think about that, even though I want to enjoy the afterglow here in Clay’s arms, I can’t turn my mind from thoughts of my alpha. I’m carrying his children, and this should be the happiest time in the world for us. I can’t understand what’s wrong.

  “It’s all right,” Clay says softly. “I know.”

  I sniffle. “I can’t keep anything from you, can I?”

  “You’re an open book.” He kisses my shoulder. “You can cry.”

  “All I do is eat and cry.” It’s true. Even when I’m not upset about something as serious as this situation with Bruno, I’m never far from tears. This morning I cried because I saw a butterfly.

  “You’ve got a lot going on,” Clay says. “Don’t hold it in. It’s okay, Lane. Really.”