15. Ass Up, Claws Out

Chapter Fifteen

ASS UP, CLAWS OUT

Indy

S itting in the middle of my nest, surrounded by more pillows than I can count, and draped in the fuzziest blanket I’ve ever seen, I read over the note in my hands for the third time.

Indigo Rae,

It is with great pleasure that I, Clayton Whitlock Ambrose II, cordially invite you to join myself and Nashervan Bowmanpants Ambrose the First, for an exquisite Italian meal in the actual dining room of our humble abode.

This joyous event shall commence around 7 p.m. tomorrow, the tenth of February in this blessed year of the ram, and your presence is requested no less than thirty minutes prior so we may engage in cocktails before we conduct a proper tour of said abode.

Dress is casual. No need to bring anything but your beautiful smile, and an open mind.

To make us aware of your acceptance, or if you decline, please use the back of this invitation and slide it under the bedroom door for us to find in the wee hours of the morning.

Yours truly,

C. W. Ambrose II

P. S. Those aren’t our real names, mostly, cocktails means beer, and the Italian meal is pizza because neither of us can cook. Don’t want you to think this is something crazy fancy because Clayton is a dumbass, but we would like it if you had dinner with us.

- Nash

I grin as I trace their handwriting with my finger, both of them using tiny script but that’s where the similarities stop.

Clay’s reflects his artistic talent; the letters are scrawling and fluid, the uppercase larger than the lowercase, all of them containing some sort of loop or swirl. Nash writes in all capital letters, the movements of his pen succinct and deeply set against the paper. Both very true to their personalities—what I know of them, anyway—and while it makes me smile, I can’t help but stupidly wonder what this Bram’s handwriting would look like after that message I saw.

I set the note down with a sigh.

They were so worried about him.

Nash and Clayton were angry with him, but they were worried about Bram, and it didn’t sit very well with me that their relationships are in turmoil, especially since I seem to be the cause of it.

I had such a good day.

Seeing Clay’s shop, having him show me what flash is, watching as he masterfully inked a rose on Mona’s forearm. It was fascinating, the tattoo gun even more so, and after I took it apart to figure out how it worked, I was excited over the idea of letting him put a mark on my body somewhere.

One I chose on my own, not forced on me in order to keep track of where I fell in the massive inventory list at the ranch. It had nothing to do with my generation or designation. I gave my permission to have that heart permanently etched into my skin. I had a say from start to finish, and if I were braver and more comfortable with this new reality I’m still learning to navigate, I might have asked Clayton to cover up that five digit number on my hip with something beautiful.

Maybe I will one day, but for now, I’m thrilled with the tiny heart on my middle finger. I can definitely see the appeal in getting tattooed of your own free will, I didn’t before, but having choices makes such a difference, and I better understand why Nash and Clay are both covered in them.

It was pretty fun when I got to tattoo them, too.

I’m nowhere near artistic, not even in my handwriting, but Clay and Nash each let me tattoo something on them. A little, very basic, sort of silly, smiley face. Two dots, and a curved line. That’s it. They had to find space for it, somewhere that it would both be seen, and fit. While I’m pretty sure I’m more excited about it than they are, and even if it isn’t any bigger than the tip of my finger, I like the idea of them walking around with something from me on their skin.

I just have no idea why.

We went to the barn behind the farrier shop after that.

Even though I could almost feel the worry emanating from them, the anger that kept coming in waves once Nash returned from wherever he’d been, those two men took me to see the horses, and I was so incredibly happy, I could have cried.

Nash let me brush them, all four of them, and he showed me how he takes care of their teeth and hooves. He explained how he does it for everyone in town who has livestock that would need things like that done; horses, cows, goats, and donkeys, and he even said that the next time he makes a house call, I could tag along if I wanted to.

I really want to.

I find myself wanting to do more and more with the two of them, and it takes a lot for me to hide just how much it means for me to be included.

Both of which should scare me.

My mother explained that not all alphas, not all men in general, were like the ones we dealt with at the ranch. She said my father was nothing like them, and neither was her father from what she could remember. Mother told me that there are good men out there, ones who would never even dream of putting an omega through the things we experienced, but I had a hard time believing that.

After what I went through, I honestly decided that it was next to impossible.

Then I found myself in Obsidian Falls.

I’m trying to keep things in perspective; I keep reminding myself that this entire situation is a fluke, and it could easily mean the kindness of the men I’ve met here is the same.

I should have my guard up, I should be leery and cautious. I never should have let Mona leave me alone with male strangers who have a dangerous air about them, but I did. She left, I barely tried to stop her, and ever since then, I’ve experienced things that prove my previous line of thinking wrong.

That should scare me, they should scare me, but that’s the furthest from how I’m feeling, and I can only hope that I don’t live to regret it.

Shaking my head, I reach for the pencil that the note was wrapped around, and write my response with butterflies in my stomach.

I would love to have dinner with you.

I don’t add anything else, I don’t even sign my name, but just as I take a deep breath and get to my feet, ready to slide the invitation back out into the hallway, something inside me flips.

It isn’t nerves. I have them, sure, it isn’t like I’ve ever been asked to dinner by anyone before so that’s where they’re coming from, but that’s not what I just felt when I stood up. It was like… it was like my stomach dropped all the way down to my toes then shot back up into my throat before my hands start to tingle. That almost felt like a response to fear, or even pain. One that I haven’t felt since I’ve been here, but had regularly when I was at the ranch.

It doesn’t feel like it should be happening here, though.

This place, this little town, it’s new and that is a little scary, but overall, I’ve never felt safer than I do now. The way my insides dropped? That is something to be afraid of, and I don’t like it one bit.

Swallowing hard, I try to breathe through whatever this is, one hand flat against my stomach while the other clutches the note and pencil so tightly I hear the wood start to crack. I don’t like this feeling, don’t like how it came on so quickly, and how it’s so strong that I almost feel sick.

Maybe I need some more water.

It’s possible that’s all this is, not keeping myself hydrated enough, and after such an eventful day, it isn’t shocking that I’d feel somewhat out of sorts.

That must be it.

So, I shake the feeling off while I keep trying to convince myself I’m thirsty, exit my nest, then move to the bedroom door.

“Indy,” Clayton shouts at the same time I bend to send my note through. I jump backward, my heart racing even though hearing his voice puts me at ease a little. “Indigo, are you awake?”

I crack the door and peek out into the hallway. “I was just about to send your invitation through.”

He gives me a smile but it’s all wrong.

Clayton’s smiles are bright and full of life, they’re loud and charming, just like him. His entire person lights up when he smiles, but that’s not happening right now. No, right now this man almost looks like he’s going to be sick to his stomach, too.

He looks exactly like I felt a moment ago.

I pull the door open all the way as my brow furrows. “What is it?”

“I…” he says as he shakes his head. “Indy, I hate to drop this on you, especially in this kind of way, but you’re going to have to meet Bramley tonight.”

“Why?” I all but gasp as my guts roll. “He doesn’t like me. He wouldn’t?—“

“He’s hurt, we don’t know how bad, but we have to go to Nan’s place, and I don’t want you staying here alone. Neither of us do.”

I can appreciate that, I don’t particularly want to be alone, but I’m not sure meeting the man who seems to loathe my existence is a great alternative. “I could always just sit in the truck? Maybe? I don’t need to…” My words trail off as the full scale of what he said registers. “He’s hurt?”

Clayton nods. “He took off after he and Nash fought, most likely decided to go hunting, and since it wasn’t planned at all, things went south.”

That’s not a phrase I’m very familiar with but judging by his expression, it isn’t good, and I don’t like seeing that look on his face. So, I nod my head and turn back to where my flannel is hanging by the fireplace.

“If he’s mean to me?—“

“He won’t be.” Clay clears his throat. “I’m not sure he’ll be much of anything to anyone, not tonight. We didn’t get very much info from Pap, and Nan was shouting in the background but we didn’t get much from her either. Just that Bram is hurt, and we need to get to their house.”

Pulling on my hat, I turn to see Nash join him at the doorway, my boots in his hands, and seeing them together like this? Wow.

I actually sway on my feet, the overwhelming weight of their concern emanating from them so strongly that I can feel it. I feel it right down to my bones and even though their expressions hurt my heart, there’s a strange level of what I can only describe as relief that fills me when I look between them and see something I have never seen before.

“You love him.” It’s not a question, it’s a fact. Ironclad. Solid. Something I just know. Why else would they look so incredibly wrecked right now?

Honestly, it’s been obvious that they have a deeper connection with Bram than anyone else I’ve met, regardless of how angry with him they’ve been. Which has been extremely, but that didn’t curb the feeling I didn’t understand until right now. I can see it, I can almost touch it. At this exact moment, the undeniable love they have for the man who hates me is so clear it makes my heart beat a little faster.

I want that.

Knowing how these men feel, it truly does bring me some sense of relief, some sort of calm after the way my insides were all twisted up, but it doesn’t last, not even when they feel compelled to almost explain the statement I made.

“We do,” Nash says as I walk toward them. “Very much, but it doesn’t change anything about?—“

“I know.” I nod, because I do. It doesn’t change anything going on with the three of us—whatever that may actually be—and if anything, hearing that they love him makes me feel better about whatever the hell this is.

None of that makes any fucking sense to me, but that’s how I’m feeling, and I need to hurry so we can get out the door before either of them starts to cry.

I roll my eyes to myself as I finish tying my boots.

They aren’t that upset, not to the point of tears, but Clayton and Nash are extremely worried, more than before, and I can tell they’re barely holding themselves together right now.

I really hope that jerk knows what he has with these two because if Bram doesn’t, I might be inclined to let him know how wonderful his partners are, and then threaten to take them away for myself.

Will I do that?

Of course not, I’m not that brave, or that stupid, I don’t even know what’s going on or why they haven’t gotten rid of me yet, but I can almost feel their anxiety right now, and that’s enough for me to know this Bram doesn’t deserve either of them.

The closer we get to Mona’s house, the worse my stomach feels.

It’s been twisting and turning the entire ride, I’ve felt the need to wretch a few times already, but as soon as Clayton taps me on the shoulder and points out my window, I’m hit by a strange scent. It’s one that makes my entire insides take a nosedive and don’t bother coming back up.

“I’m going to be sick.”

I throw open the door and jump out, then run toward a tree, bracing myself on the trunk while I vomit all over its roots. I continue doing that until there’s nothing left, and I’m gagging so hard my eyes are watering and my nose is running.

“Indy?” Nash places his hand on my back, tentatively touching me before he starts gathering my hair in his hand. “Honey, are you?—“

With a painful heave, my body keeps trying to empty itself, forcing what little is left inside of it up my throat and out through my mouth, the bile landing mostly on the alpha’s boots.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, trying in vain not to do it again. “I’m not sure where that came from.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I glance up at him before resting my head against the tree. “You should go inside.”

“Clay went in. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Never better.”

Nash huffs, “Look, Indy, I don’t like the idea of leaving you out here alone. I can tell you’re going to fight me on it, so I figured getting that out now shaves a little time off of the argument.”

Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I take a few deep breaths then stand, my hand back on my stomach as if that’s actually going to help anything going on, and shake my head. There haven’t been many opportunities for them to learn how stubborn I am, and I am very stubborn, but despite my desire to make this a learning experience for the alpha standing next to me, fate intervenes instead.

“Hurry up!” Mona shouts as she rushes toward us, the entire front of her apron covered in blood. “He’s waking up and?—“

“Stay with Indy,” Nash yells as he runs toward the house, shucking his coat as he goes. “And get her inside.”

“You heard the man,” she says, moving toward me quickly, wiping her bloodstained hands on the already soaked apron. “Inside, my dear.”

But the moment Mona reaches for me, as soon as her fingertips barely touch my hands, I burst into tears.

Loud, angry sobs push out of my body, shaking my shoulders, forcing me to double over and wrap my arms tightly around my middle. I’m almost immediately short of breath, panting while I cry, my tears streaming down my face and falling to the ground at my feet.

What the hell is going on?

Mona catches me just before my knees give out, supporting my weight the best she can despite our height difference, but the smell… My god, the scent coming off of her has me somehow crying even harder than before.

“Oh, pretty girl.” She sighs and she pulls me to her, hugging me while she begins swaying back and forth. “I know why they brought you, but this wasn’t the way.”

“I-I-I d-don’t…” My voice breaks as I cling to Mona.

I have no idea what the fuck is happening right now but I am completely overcome with whatever it is, and I can’t even get the words out to try to explain anything, or ask any questions.

Mona rubs my back for a few moments longer, waiting until my body stops shaking before pushing my shoulders back to look me in the eye. “I need to get you inside, dear. It’s too cold and dark, and I need everyone focused now that The Butcher is awake.”

I nod and frown, wiping my snot on my sleeve while a few more tears slip down my cheeks. “The Butcher?”

“So much to tell you, and not the way you’re about to hear it.”

This woman is making no sense right now. None. And I really need her to because Nash and Clayton are obviously busy, and I’m too much of a mess to ask her to elaborate on anything.

Mona searches my eyes before hesitantly lifting her hands to my face. She cups my cheeks, swiping at the tears as they finally slow. “There are four other men in there. Four aside from yours.”

My brow furrows as I start to rub my biceps.

Has she always been so strange?

Not that I’ve known her for a long time, a couple of months from what I gathered, but in all of our interactions, I don’t think Mona has said such vague or cryptic things to me.

“Pap,” she says as she reaches for my hands and begins leading me toward her house. “You don’t need to worry about him. He’s crazier than a loon these days, but he’s a good man, and he’s nothing to worry about.”

I just nod because I don’t know what else to do.

“Then there’s Rex and Ezekiel. They’re my Maeve’s mates. Two of them, anyway, we lost Carlisle shortly before we lost my girl.”

“Your daughter?” I glance at Mona and see a soft, sad smile on her face.

“My only one. I’ll tell you all about her someday.” She loops her arm through mine, her entire demeanor different from the way it was when she first came outside. And it’s helping me calm down. “You don’t need to be afraid of Rex or Ezekiel, either. They’re a little more intimidating than Pap, only because they aren’t cuckoo bananas or shriveled, but they’re big softies, and they only want to help.”

I sure hope she’s right.

Especially as we walk into her house and I’m overcome by the urge to cry once again.

“Arrow is new to me.”

My head swings in her direction as she says that name. “Arrow?”

Mona nods. “He came in with Butch. Not sure what the story is there but he seems nice enough. Young. Terrified.”

If he’s the same Arrow I heard about at the ranch, he has every right to be.

But I don’t say that. I don’t say anything.

For some reason, I’m more afraid of telling these people about where I came from than actually being isolated with a bunch of strangers, and I’m sure that’s just another way I’m ridiculously screwed up, and will probably get myself killed at some point. But I’m convinced that if I tell them I’m a Harden omega, they’ll take me back and turn me in. There’s too much power thriving in that hell hole for me to believe otherwise.

“I’ll take you there,” Mona says as she helps me with my coat and boots. “You’ll feel better once you can see him.”

If I thought life outside the ranch would be this strange and full of so many unknowns, I’m not sure I would have wanted to leave it.

Ha.

I shake my head and internally roll my eyes.

It didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t matter now. Weird as hell or just as confusing, anything is better than the ranch, and the fact that I momentarily questioned that is insane.

Which probably means I’ll fit right in with Mona and whoever else is down this long, dimly lit hallway.

“Goddamnit, get his hand!”

I stop at the sound of Nash’s voice, my feet rooted in place just short of a closed door.

“Nan’s gonna be pissed,” Clayton shouts. “He ripped that shit right out!”

My eyes widen as they dart from the door to Mona, who sighs and shakes her head as if this entire thing is annoying rather than as dire as she initially made it seem. “It’s either the IV, or his stitches, and either way Clay is right, I’m going to be pissed.” She walks ahead of me, pushing through the wood, allowing more of that scent out into the hall, mumbling until she disappears into the darkened room. “Rex can deal with it. I’m not poking and prodding that idiot again, he’s his son, he can do it.”

I start wringing my hands as I take one step toward the doorway, then freeze when I hear someone bark, “Let me go!”

Frozen.

I am completely frozen, and even though I’m not holding anyone down or back or anything else, I can’t help but feel like that was directed at me, and I’m supposed to listen to it.

“Get the fuck away from me with that, Rex,” that deep, gravely voice booms. “I swear to fucking?—“

My gaze snaps toward the room as I take a few quick steps in the same direction, my fingers twisted in my grip so tightly my knuckles are white.

Why did he stop yelling?

I need to hear him.

Angry, in pain, whatever else he’s feeling, I need to hear it so long as it’s reflected in his voice. As long as I know those things haven’t taken over. As long as they haven’t quieted him.

He needs to keep speaking.

I have to know?—

“You son of a fucking bitch!”

I blow out a breath, my shoulders sagging in relief as he bellows more obscenities, as the scent that’s been screwing with me since I first smelled it, flares. It grows, and between that, and the tone the voice yelled in, I’m compelled to find the source of both.

Swallowing hard, I muster up what little courage I have, forcing myself into the room, and it’s as if time stands still and everything goes silent the second my eyes adjust.

There, on the bed, barely covered by a sheet, is a man. A very large man, bigger than Nash, thrashing around and fighting… Oh my god.

He’s fighting everyone.

Clayton and Nash, and three other men, two of which aren’t exactly small, and the third is genuinely trying to help but the man on the bed is flinging him around like a rag doll.

“Get his wrist!” One of them shouts. “Get it in the cuff!”

My eyes snap to the cuff in question, that almost spicy scent roaring around me now, strong and almost as angry as the man on the bed, and when I watch them try to shackle him to it, something inside me snaps.

It snaps because it feels like they’re trying to shackle me.

“Don’t you dare,” I cry out as I rush toward the bed. “Do not restrain him!”

The entire room falls silent, everyone stops moving, almost as if they’re frozen in place, and when I’m within range, I shove the one man out of the way and yank the cuff from his hands.

Clayton leans toward me from his place across the bed. “Indy, sweetheart, we?—“

“How dare you lock him up,” I all but growl, reaching toward the heavy, thick material in his hand and try to remove it from the man in the bed. “You’re treating him like an animal.” I choke on the last word, barely able to get it out as tears spill down my cheeks all over again. I know how this feels. “No one deserves this, no one and I…”

The second my gaze connects with an icy blue one, my heart stops as my insides leap in recognition.

I know him.

I don’t know how, or from where, but I know this man, and something is telling me it’s because he’s mine.

Which is completely insane, and definitely means I need to leave.

I slowly move across him, backing away as those nearly aquamarine irises follow me, tracking me with an intensity that has my heart starting back up and pounding in my ears. They don’t leave my face, he doesn’t even blink, and the way he’s almost analyzing every one of my features has me both wanting to shrink into the corner to hide, and stand tall so he can see all of me.

Another reason I need to leave.

But I can’t.

No matter how strong the urge, regardless of my rational mind and what it says, I can’t make myself leave this side of the bed let alone the room.

“Sit,” the man growls as he continues to stare at me, and I do.

I sit my ass right down in the chair a few feet from where he’s laying, and I don’t move one single inch the rest of the time I’m here.