Chapter 4

My alphas leave a wake of frenetic energy as they leave, making me smile. I run up the stairs after setting the alarm for the house and locking the front door to change into real clothes. I normally wouldn’t bother, but I have an omega to tempt out of hiding.

Humming, I pull on a pair of joggers without boxers and a sweatshirt the guys bought me that says Submit to the Omega. The sweatshirt makes me chuckle, because we have a pretty even power dynamic, unless they’re fucking me. Even then, they’re very focused on making me cum or edging me, depending on the situation.

Shaw enjoys edging me, making my dick weep bitterly as my slick drips down it. Begging makes him fuck my ass harder, and fuck do I love it. Sometimes, I need to be pushed until I’m out of my mind with lust.

“Let’s see if I can get you to come out, little omega,” I mutter, slipping on a thick pair of socks as well. I don’t think she’ll run from me, right?

Frowning, I change my socks for slip free ones with a pair of lightweight gray trainers. I like to run with the guys to keep up my stamina, and I love the high I feel afterwards. My alphas always spoil me with a shower and a full body massage after.

They say it’s so I’m tempted to keep running, and I have to say that it’s working. Shaking my head to keep myself from missing them or perfuming, I stand and head back downstairs. The house is really quiet. It’s obnoxious, really.

Hooking my phone up to the Bluetooth speaker, I pull up Shake it Off by Taylor Swift, and start making a berry French toast pudding. It’s decadent, delicious, and has eggs which count as protein, right?

I don’t know when the last time this girl ate was, and I’m now fairly fixated in drawing her out of whatever hidey hole she’s crawled into. Omegas are smart, small, and very good at hiding.

While I looked everywhere I would have thought to hide, including the rafters and air ducts, I just don’t think she has the upper arm strength to get up into those spaces. My lips press together as I work, and I decide to burn a little bit of this worried energy.

Singing as I dance and shake my ass, I assemble breakfast quickly. I purposely don’t have the music blasting, my ears straining for any sound. A small whine is finally what draws my attention to the pantry, and my mouth drops. I know Ambrose and Shaw both looked in there. How did they not see her?

Now that I know where she is, I blast the music as I open the now preheated oven and slide in the pan. My eyes move over to the pantry as she opens it, standing there in just her bra and panties. I want to fucking strangle my alphas, what were they thinking?

Closing up the oven, I set a timer and turn to face her, but her hair hides her face as she walks past me. Dammit, all I did was turn away for a second. Turning off the music, I follow her.

“Wait! We were looking for you,” I offer.

She shakes her head, and I swear I hear her whisper, “Sorry.”

“Please don’t go,” I say, trying again. I don’t want to cut her off or scare her, but she’s almost crossed the kitchen, walking toward the exit. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Wherever I belong. Out of the way, so I won’t get hurt,” she rasps.

My breath hitches as I hear her voice clearer. It’s pretty, slightly deeper than I would have imagined it.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I promise her. My feet move until I’m standing at the exit, slightly to the side so she can move past me if she wants. God, she’s so tiny. I could wrap my hands around her waist, and her breasts are larger than I would have expected for her frame. “Keep me company?”

“You don’t want me for company, messing up your pretty home,” she says, shaking her head. “You could just unlock the door and I’ll go.”

“Go where?” I ask her. Is there someone out there looking for her? “You’re not dressed, darlin’.”

This omega may use her hair as a shield as she looks down at the floor, but I know she has a button nose, hazel eyes that feel as if they can see down to your soul, and pouty lips.

“It’s better this way,” she says with a smile, glancing up at me. There’s so much pain in her gaze, it makes me take a step back. Fuck. “I’m really not meant to be here or anywhere. No one wants me here, and that’s okay. I’ll just start walking and let fate take me.”

“No,” I snarl. Tears threaten to fall as I shake my head. “What the hell happened to you? You can’t just give up.”

“Why not?” she asks, tilting her head inquisitively to the side. “You don’t know me, and nothing will ever get better.”

Now that she’s finally talking to me, I’m torn between asking her to shut the fuck up with her terrible words, and begging her for more. If she’s here talking to me then she won’t leave.

“I want to know more. I bought you, and I don’t know what drew me to you. What’s your name?” I ask her. There’s a desperation in my voice that makes her stare at me.

“Wren,” she murmurs. “It’s what he calls me. I don’t actually remember my name.”

Darlin, you’re killing me right now.

“Please stay? You have to be hungry, Ambrose’s cheese isn’t going to do shit to sustain you. I’m making berry French toast pudding,” I tell her. “I’m craving something sweet and really fucking bad for me. Be my partner in crime and eat with me?”

“I still need to go,” she says almost gently. “I can’t stay here.”

“But why?” I ask her. Wren starts to walk past me, and I stumble backward trying to stay ahead of her. I don’t want to cage her in or actually stop her, I want the decision to be hers.

“Okay, I’m sorry. It’s not my business. We don’t know each other like that yet. Strangers eat breakfast together all of the time. Eat with me, and then maybe take a shower? It’ll make you feel better. If you still want to go afterward, at least you’ll have real clothes on.”

“What clothes?” she scoffs, sounding like discordant musical notes from her lips. This is an omega that should be cherished, in fact I feel that all omegas should be adored and happy. Just because I don’t like people very much, doesn’t make this any less true.

“I have clothes coming out of the dryer,” I say quickly. “They may be big, but they’ll be better than what you’re wearing.”

Wren’s lips purse as she thinks. “Can I shower and dress now?” she asks.

“Now?” I ask. Wren flinches, as if waiting for me to hit her, and I swallow hard as I glance at the timer. My food needs to cook for a bit longer, so I nod. God help me, but I want to give her something, anything to keep her from looking at me the way she is now.

“Yeah, of course. Let’s do it. I’ll grab you some clothing now, and then you can shower. Come on,” I murmur.

Wren doesn’t seem to trust it as she continues to stand there. “I can shower alone?” she asks.

“Darlin’, please,” I groan. “I have never fucked a girl before in my life, I’m not about to have the first time be against her will. You’re going to shower alone, but I will be checking on you to make sure you’re not drowning yourself. I’m taking everything sharp out of the bathroom too.”

Wren stares at me for a moment before giving me a sharp nod. I wish I knew what was going on in her mind. An omega with a death wish wasn’t in my plans when I decided to make breakfast for us.

“Come with me then,” I murmur, moving to the side so we can walk together. I don’t trust her at my back, no matter how tiny and sad she is. I grab a hoodie of mine, a towel, and frown as I realize I don’t have anything she can use as underwear. “Fuck, I don’t have panties or even boxers that will fit you.”

Wren shrugs, taking the items from me. She”s careful not to touch me, and while I can appreciate it, it’s not necessary. This little omega isn’t affecting me in any of the destructive ways we’re taught we will when a foreign omega is in our space. Everything I’m going on is theoretical physiology.

Growing up, I remember in school that most girls were catty even before they were awakened as an omega, alpha, or beta. I had a fantastic childhood outside of that, since no one really cares what your sexual preference was.

Men, women, it doesn’t really matter when you find your scent match. There’s this inescapable draw to the person or people, and all you want to do is spend time with them. The instinct to mate, bite, become pack is everything.

“Who is ‘he’?” I ask her as I start to move toward the bathroom downstairs. None of us typically shower down here, so there shouldn’t be a razor or anything inside. There is shampoo, conditioner, a bar of soap, and a random new toothbrush though.

This could be Shaw or Ambrose’s work, but I don’t know. They both are very particular about keeping things well stocked, ‘just in case’ there’s a need for it. It’s everything I can do to make sure it doesn’t enter hoarding territory.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she murmurs as I check over the bathroom.

Gazing at her, I feel this odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s the same reason I yelled out an absurd bid yesterday, and why I feel almost protective.

“The bathroom’s all yours,” I say. “I really wish you’d talk to me.”

“Wishes and prayers don’t mean much to me,” she whispers as I step back and she shuts the door. I stand outside the bathroom as I listen to her turn on the water, and then force myself to go check on the food.

Her words roll over in my mind as I go through the motions of turning on the oven light to see how the breakfast is going. It didn’t feel as if she was being rude to me, but more as if she was reminding herself of it.

God, who the fuck is this guy who hurt her? I don’t think she’ll tell me, but a small whine of discontent escapes my lips anyway. Wren looks as if she’s been through literal hell. The marks are how she flinches when she thinks she says the wrong thing, or how she almost appears malnourished.

Huffing out a breath, I add a few more minutes to the timer before going to check on her. I find her in front of the main door, hair wet, wearing my sweatshirt as she stares at the security keypad.

“I can’t let you go,” I say gently. The sweatshirt swallows her body, and I still can’t quite smell her. “Why can’t I smell you?”

Eyes wide in surprise, she whirls around. I can smell the rosemary and thyme in the hair products I gave her, but that’s not her scent.

“The soap was kind of odd. Maybe that’s why?” she asks. “Why can’t you let me go?”

“I just can’t. Something is telling me you’re important, and I need to figure out why,” I say honestly.

“Oh. I’m no one,” she whispers. “You’re going to be disappointed when you find that out.”

“Everyone is someone,” I argue. “The food is almost ready. Would you rather water or juice?”

“Water please,” she says. Once I settle her at the giant island sipping on a glass of water, I rush back to the bathroom to check the bar of soap. The box says it’s a descenting bar, and I want to kick myself for not checking first.

I don’t know why it seems important, but it is. I need to change out this bar to normal body wash so I can finally figure out why I may be feeling this way. Instead, I walk back slowly to the kitchen, half wondering if she’ll be gone.

Surprisingly, she’s sipping on the water as she stares out the windows of the kitchen as the sun rises, almost in awe. We have some of the best views possible in Minnesota. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

As the timer begins to beep, telling me the food is done, I can also smell the incredible scent of berries and sweetness coming from the oven.

“Mmm, this is going to be amazing with the fresh whipped cream I have in the fridge,” I say happily, opening the oven as I grab my mitts.

“I really get to have some?” she asks. I want to hit whoever has been restricting her food, because Wren is probably one of the last people who should be on a diet.

What kind of person’s thumb has she been under? What are his crimes? And can I have first dibs to kill him?

My thoughts are murderous even as I pull out the casserole to cool on the stove before shutting the oven and tossing the mitts.

“Any time I cook, you’re invited to eat it,” I tell her, catching her eye. I hate the way she hides, I absolutely despise it. “Alright?”

Wren nods, but not as if she believes it. Actions. Walking over to the fridge, I pull out the whipped cream I made yesterday morning. I didn’t have a plan for it when I made it, I just knew I was craving it.

Putting the bowl on the island, I grab plates and silverware. “Wren, however you feel is valid and appropriate. You will never be punished for feeling in this home,” I murmur. “My alphas’ are mostly bark, even though outside of here they are dangerous men. I know this doesn’t make sense, but that’s okay. You don’t have to trust me, but one day I hope I’m able to show you that you can.”

Serving us breakfast, I sit next to her, and take a big bite of my French toast before moaning happily.

“It’s so good,” I mumble around my food. Tentatively, Wren lifts up her fork, carefully picking up a bite of food with some whipped cream. It’s still a relatively tiny bite, and I wonder if this is the only omega on the planet with self control.

As her lips wrap around the fork and she takes a bite, I notice how her eyelashes flutter with pleasure as the flavors hit her taste buds. As she nods in agreement without a sound, I decide to take this as a win. I may not be able to get her to talk to me, but I can at least bond with her over food.

Wren doesn’t eat much, but it’s clear she’s full when she pushes away her plate with a satisfied smile. She looks sleepy, and my mind starts to wander.

“We don’t have heat in the basement, so I don’t think you should stay there,” I say. “There’s a room on this floor you can stay in that has a bathroom attached to it. It’ll give you a little privacy, and then I’ll figure out real clothes for you.”

“The sweatshirt is enough,” Wren sighs, snuggling inside of it. “A nap sounds really good right now, though.”

“I’ll take you to the room, and you’re not some kind of sex slave here, Wren. I’m getting you clothes,” I rumble. I’m getting worked up, and I can feel my annoyance building.

It’s such a dumb thing to get mad over. I don’t even understand it. Wren almost disappears into my sweatshirt with a nod, making me feel bad. I clearly can’t do anything right at the moment. Standing, I show her to the room.

“No more talk of leaving here, Wren. You’re here for the foreseeable future. Get used to it,” I grumble as I pull the door closed.

God, that could have gone better.

My body is practically vibrating with energy as I walk slowly back into the kitchen and begin cleaning. The dishes, countertops, sink, baseboards, nothing escapes a good scrubbing as I clean.

Making my way through the kitchen, next I clean the hallway bathroom, my nose twitching from how hard I attempt to scent her. Frustrated, I curl up on the comfortable coach in the living room, watching trash television to pass the time.

Wren doesn’t come out of the bedroom, and I grow bored, deciding to catch a rare catnap on the couch. I have more questions about this omega than before, all of them bouncing in my mind as I toss and turn.

Little omega, I need to know your secrets. I need to know them, even if I hate myself after prying them away from you.