18. The Bluest of Balls

Chapter Eighteen

THE BLUEST OF BALLS

Indy

I don’t know how I found my way back to their house, but I did, and I’m assuming it’s because I’m running on nothing but anger and spite.

Bramley is a real asshole, one who likes to use his size to his advantage, and he thinks he can intimidate his way out of reality. Because I am his reality. Same as he is mine; all three of them are. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, and I know that son of a bitch feels it.

There’s no way he couldn’t, not with the way we were responding to each other. He’d have to be emotionally cut off, completely void of a soul or whatever it is that makes us feel things, and asshole or not, I know that’s not the case.

I am so angry with him.

So angry with Bramley Ambrose.

My hands ball into fists as I stomp my way down the hill, even more irritated because I forgot my coat, but I’m too mad to be cold. I can see their house now, though, so it wouldn't matter if I were. I made it this far, a few more minutes out here isn’t going to kill me.

Rolling my eyes, I scoff to myself.

It almost did kill me.

Almost being the keyword.

With a scowl, I slow down a bit as my path gets a little steeper, and I run into some uneven ground. I can be mad and keep myself from falling on my face at the same time. No need to add insult to injury. Or maybe that should be the other way around since I just spent god knows how long being insulted by a man who made me perfume without even trying. Adding an injury to that would be the icing on the cake, as Nash says.

It’s such a weird thing, to see someone, to smell them, to share their air, and just know in your gut that you belong together. Regardless of how much I’d like to smack him right in his masked-up mouth, seeing Bram made everything click into place, and explained why I feel so at home here when I’d never heard of Obsidian Falls before.

Not that I’d heard of anywhere outside of Harden Ranch, but still.

Looking into those icy blue eyes, and ignoring the fact that the jerk has eyelashes for days, everything I’ve been struggling to understand, all the racing thoughts and mixed emotions, suddenly became crystal clear in that shithead’s presence. How he could stand there and look me in the eye while he spits some of the stupidest, most blatant lies at me, I will never understand. It’s almost impressive that he could do it with a straight face and so much goddamn conviction.

Now that I know how we could be spending our time when Clayton or Nash force us into the same space, I’ll be ready.

It caught me off guard that he was acting like such a dick, but only because I couldn’t fathom being that way to him, not until he decided not to hold back. That was a learning experience, one I won’t be forgetting any time soon, and I’ll prepare better for our next run in.

The last thing I’m going to do is avoid Bramley Ambrose.

I’m going to talk to Clay and Nash to make sure they agree, and then I’m going to put myself in his path every chance I get. He can lie to himself all he wants, but he can’t lie to me, and I plan on making damn sure he knows it. We don’t even have to talk. I’ll show him I know he’s full of shit by going to that butcher shop as often as possible, just so I can sit and watch him work, and he can deal with the fact that I’ll probably perfume my pants right off by doing so.

Not my problem.

He did that to himself.

I hope he has the bluest balls for the rest of his life.

Skidding down the last bit of the trail, I lift my arms and try to keep my balance, then stop, take a deep breath, and look around.

I did it.

I made it all the way from Bram’s butcher shop back to their house, and I didn’t have to stop and ask for help, nor did I panic once that entire time. Jutting my chin out because I’m proud of myself, I head toward the back porch.

My mother said there wasn’t any reason to stay mad, not when we couldn’t do anything to change the reason why, and all it would do was eat at us until it’s the only thing we were capable of feeling. I never defied my mom, always listened because I trusted what she said, but I wouldn’t mind being able to tell her that I found my way from point A to point B in an area I’m completely unfamiliar with, solely because I was running on anger and spite.

Two things I’m still very full of when I throw open the back door, march into the doorway of the dining room, and shout, “I’m taking you up on your offer, I’m ready to see you naked!”

Clayton has offered. Multiple times. Him, Nash, him and Nash. He’s said it many times, when I’m ready to see them naked, all I have to do is ask.

Which sounds weird, but it was actually very sweet.

When they brought up my going into heat, my reaction must have been enough for them both to understand it wasn’t something I was comfortable with discussing. Nash was immediately embarrassed and remorseful on Clayton’s behalf, and he tried to pry the information out of me in the nicest way possible.

I’m still not ready for that.

So, when he asked if it was them, or sex and nudity in general, I went with the latter.

It’s true—mostly—though, because it isn’t them, but it’s not sex or nudity either. It’s all the things I can’t say yet, the things I don’t really want to ever talk about now that I’m far away from the ranch, and all of that would inevitably come up if I disclosed the full truth.

I spent the majority of my life naked and dealing with some semblance of sex, but for as many nude men as I’ve seen, I haven’t really seen one. And that’s what I told my alpha and beta.

It’s not like those hazy alpha assholes cared if I looked at them, or touched them, or anything else that probably happens during normal sex. They were in rut, and that’s all they were concerned about, and since I was in heat and chained up, there wasn’t a lot of time for me to see more than a penis, knot, or pair of balls. I even had a few that never even showed me their faces while they tried to breed me, so getting a good look at the male form without any clothes on didn’t happen.

Clayton, oddly enough, hit the nail on the head with that one, and I found it very sweet that he volunteered to let me explore. With both my eyes and hands, as he so thoughtfully put it.

Except, there isn’t anyone here.

I came storming in here, mad as a hornet and ready to see some skin, and there isn’t anyone around.

“Hello?” I step into the hall and face the closet at the end, and try again a little louder because being alone makes me brave. “I said I’m ready to see someone naked, so let’s go!”

At least, I thought I was alone because seconds after my announcement is made at a louder volume, I hear what sounds like a stampede of wild horses coming down the stairs.

“Say what now?” Clay asks as he practically falls down the bottom few steps, Nash barely catching him before he’s face to face with the wood. “You what?”

“I take it things didn’t go very well with Bram,” Nash says as he helps Clay get steady. “Not that I understand the connection…”

Immediately regretting my way of handling how I feel because these two incredibly sweet men don’t deserve to be used in any way, shape, or form, I blow out a breath as my shoulders sag. “It was terrible.”

“What’d he say?” He holds out his hand, twining our fingers as soon as our palms touch, but when he tries leading me to the kitchen, I tug him the other way. “I thought maybe you’d want some tea or a beer, considering how flustered you are.”

I shake my head and nod toward the door. “Can we talk in there?”

“Sure,” he says as he glances at Clay, who is grabbing beer anyway. “That bad, huh?”

Deciding not to answer, I wait for Clayton to join us, then take his free hand, leading them both into the spare room and directly to the closet, where they both stop short of the door.

“Indy?” Nash clears his throat as Clay whistles low and says, “Oh man, this is huge.”

I take another deep breath and open the closet, kick off my boots, then step into my nest before I turn to face them.

Nash looks around, his eyes taking in the dim lights and dark tapestries, all of the pillows and blankets, the thick, pillowy mattress on the floor. “Are you sure? I mean, this is your nest, and?—“

“It’s my nest, my first ever nest that the two of you helped me build.” I have to keep myself from wringing my hands, my nerves swirling in my stomach like a mini tornado because this really is huge. I can’t believe I’m about to do this. Or that I really want to. “This is my nest… The two of you are mine… It makes sense for you to be in here, right?”

Clayton’s entire face lights up as he looks between me and his alpha. “You hear that, Nashy?”

He nods, a shy smile pulling at his lips. “I did.”

“We’re yours, huh, pretty girl?” Clay grins. “Is that a fact?”

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I can feel my blush as it creeps up my neck, and I shrug. “Seems like it.”

“You know what that means, though, right?” The alpha who’s blushing behind his beard asks. “Big picture?”

“Bramley is mine, too. Even if he’s an enormous jackass and refuses to accept it.”

Nash snorts while Clay pumps his fist in the air. “Oh, she got the full Bramley Ambrose treatment.” Then he tilts his head to the side and looks me up and down. “You got the full treatment and you didn’t back down, or decide you want nothing to do with him. I’m impressed.”

“Can we talk about all of this in there?” I nod to my nest again. “I didn’t back down, but I have a lot of feelings I need to sort through, and I want to do that with you, in here.”

“You’re sure?” The sweetest alpha I have ever met scrubs a hand over his hair and pushes his glasses up his nose. “I mean, this is a big deal from what Nan says, and, I mean, shit’s weird with Bramley, I wouldn’t want you to make some knee jerk decision, then regret it later.”

I smile as I step further in, making room for them to follow. “That’s exactly why I won’t. I want you both in my space, I have for a while, I was just trying not to be completely out of line because I wasn’t sure what was going on between all of us, or how you feel about it.”

“Pretty girl, rip the band aid off, let's go. I have a basket full of Nash’s dirty hoodies I’ve been saving for this very moment,” Clay says as he grabs our alpha’s hand, who looks shocked and appalled by that statement, and they take their first step inside. “You say the word, I’ll bring it down.”

“Yours too?” I ask, embarrassed, even if after all of this, I have no reason to be anymore.

He levels me with the brightest smile I have yet to see on his face as he says, “Indigo Rae, are you asking for my nasty clothes?”

I bite my lip and nod.

“I might not be some big, bad, knotted alpha, but goddamn, what that does to me.” He puffs his chest out as he drags Nash the rest of the way inside. “You got it.”

After a few awkward moments of two very large men trying to get situated in my nest with me, we’re finally all seated comfortably, ready to get into what just happened with the missing piece of this perfect little puzzle we’re attempting to put together.

Perfect. That really is how this feels, or, at least it would, if that idiot in town was here with us, and I can tell Nash and Clay are thinking the same thing.

Asshole .

Rubbing my hand over my chest, I ignore the little voice inside my head, nagging the fuck out of me over what just happened with Indy.

She didn’t deserve that.

I said things, made accusations, and outright lied to her, and for what? Why?

Because I’m a real son of a bitch. I guess that’s why.

Having an omega can’t be all bad. Hell, after watching my dads fall over my mom, how she was with them in return, I used to think finding my omega was something I wanted. I thought it was something that would make me happy. It seemed like such a good thing. Bringing the pack together, having the focal point that truly converged all bonds and relationships, and melding them into one.

I wanted that. Badly, and because I was a little concerned that everything that was wrong with me would keep it from happening, I wanted it even more.

Until I watched my brothers grow into the psychotic assholes they are, then I realized all that shit was genetics, and not even an omega would change it.

But I still wanted to find mine.

Biologically, all alphas do. Instincts. Primal urges. That’s all wrapped up in our DNA as well, and since I’d embraced the more murdery side of my chromosomes, I figured I should do the same with the stupidly romanticized side, too.

Then Bryce Harden happened, and there weren’t any omegas left.

My anger, my hatred for that piece of shit, replaced and eventually erased anything else I could have been feeling since I presented as an alpha, and that’s what I ran with.

They were gone, so what was the point, anyway?

Hanging onto some semblance of my humanity, that’s what.

Being with Nash and Clay helped, in more ways than I can really express, but those two being who they are—what they are—it was easy to ignore that. Pushing the tiny shreds of humanity I had left so far down I forgot they existed. It was so much easier to do that and embrace The Butcher.

Right up until a body dump went wrong and I wound up pulling someone out of the ravine when I was supposed to be putting more people into it.

It makes sense, though.

Knowing what I know now, reacting the way I did to Indy when we were alone, all of it validated everything Nash and Clayton have been saying about her, and it showed me that no matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t going to be able to escape it.

I’m not going to be able to escape her.

Even if I’d been successful in scaring her off, I had the knowledge that Indigo existed. She would be out there, and I would know without a shadow of a doubt, she’s mine, and with us is where she should be.

I also know that if I got to the point of scaring her away, she’d just come right back to Obsidian Falls, that was clear with how she bucked up to me a little while ago.

With an annoyed grunt, I grab the top of my jeans and tug, making room for my cock that starts to swell every fucking time I replay our confrontation, then stomp my way into the freezer.

She’s a complex little thing. One who’s full of surprises.

I incorrectly assumed, based on the way I found her as well as the following recovery time, that Indigo was a timid, weak thing without any kind of backbone. Not that it would have mattered when it came to the way we’re connected, but still, I thought she would be nothing but afraid once she was healthy enough to explore.

Boy, was I dead fucking wrong.

Not only did she surprise me with the way she responded to Clayton and Nash, but she floored me with how quickly she seemed to have a similar kind of reaction to them that I did when we first met. Instant, natural, fluid, and possessive. I can tell just from seeing them together earlier. Indy settled in with them like they’d always known each other, and I’ll be damned if that doesn’t piss me the fuck off.

That’s my own fault, though.

Something inside of me was fucking thrilled to see her holding Nash’s hand, to see how easy it was for her to be with him, and how light she seemed to feel when she was within range of Clay.

I felt all of that coming from her, coming from them, and what pisses me off about it is knowing that I should be a part of it, and if I was, the outcome would be nothing short of goddamn spiritual for all four of us.

Ultimately, I’m angry as fuck with myself, and I’m not looking to change it any time soon, even if it means I lose all of them. Which is also annoying as fuck because I don’t want that, not at all.

I need to fucking kill someone.

I pull my phone from my pocket, choosing to ignore the erection even the freezer can’t get rid of, then shoot a text to my idiot brother.

ME: Anything?

ZEKE: All quiet on the western front, chief.

ME: Don’t call me that.

ME: Seriously, though. You got nothing at all?

ZEKE: Nada. Seems they’re still reeling from your visit the other day.

Scowling, I rub my shoulder and shift my weight a little. I’m not healed up, not more than a couple days out from getting shot multiple times but Nan’s shit is helping, and I’ve always been a ‘just rub some dirt in it’ kind of dumbass. And since Indy went all scent match psycho over the way I was restrained, staying in that bed, or anywhere else she happened to pass through, wasn’t really an option.

So, I tried to kick her out, slept like shit for a few hours, then left Nan’s place in the middle of the night to go to my shop, and it’s where I’ve been ever since. Not that a lot of time has passed or anything, but I haven’t been back to my house, or my grandmother’s place, and I have no desire to change that any time soon.

ME: Closing ranks?

ZEKE: Maybe. Walker hasn’t heard anything. Wouldn’t shock me, though, since we’ve never played on their field before.

ZEKE: Bet Bry Guy shit his $4000 suit when he found those guards gift wrapped.

If you can call it that. It was a lot messier than I would have liked, and not nearly as creative as I could have been, but working with a few bullet holes and a terrified omega on standby, I didn’t have much choice.

Which reminds me…

ME: Why is Arrow staying with you? I thought he was gonna stay with Nan and Pap?

ZEKE: Pap grabbed his ass and tried to kiss him. Thought he was Grampa George.

I roll my eyes and scrub a hand over my hair.

Nan really needs to put him in a home. She’d kill me for even thinking it, especially since it’s just them now, but he’s either going to burn down their house, or get himself killed. I don’t think there’s an in between anymore.

ME: And you were the next best option, why?

ZEKE: What, you gonna invite him to stay at your place? Where you aren’t even staying at the moment. Or maybe he can crash at Tus’ cave. It is rather spacious, and he builds a few extra fires this time of year so I’m sure it’s comfortable as hell.

ME: Fuck off.

ME: He could have stayed with Rex and Ezekiel.

ZEKE: Dads weren’t keen when Nan suggested it.

ZEKE: I think they’d feel weird…

Because they haven’t had an omega staying in their house since Mom died.

Even so, it’s weird that my brother was all good with taking Arrow in. I’d put money on an ulterior motive of some sort. I bet he’s trying to pump him for info on the ranch, or Harden since he was clearly being used by Bryce’s oldest son.

I turn toward his body, frozen solid and hanging in between slabs of beef, and can’t help but grin.

As soon as my arm is fully functional and my goddamn shop is put back together, I will enjoy divvying up that bastard and shipping off the cuts directly to Harden’s plate.

My phone rings as I wander over to him.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you want to leave again so bad?”

I roll my eyes and give the Harden carcass a light shove, then watch it slowly swing back and forth. “You know why.”

“Enlighten me,” Zeke says with an obvious smile. “I need to hear it straight from the jackass’ mouth.”

“Is there a point to this phone call? I was content texting back and forth until I started ignoring you again.”

There’s a pause and some muffled sounds, then, “You know that shipment he was talking about?”

I grab the chain and stop the asshole hanging from the ceiling. “Yeah…”

“It never came. I was looking into it some and it never came.”

Which means someone had to know big brother was working outside the family business, and they didn’t fucking like it. That also means I’m going back to the ranch tonight because I want to see if I can find where a truck full of humans might have been intercepted. Knowledge like that could easily double the number of dickheads we take from the entire operation. Alan wasn’t smart enough to recruit on his own, so he definitely had to be working within the family, and that’s even more dangerous than my dumbass showing up at the property and killing armed guards close to a couple security cameras.

Hanging up on Zeke, I spin on my heel and walk out, slamming the freezer shut and locking it for the night. I start hitting lights and shutting things down, a little pep in my step over a bit of information I might have to run with, but pause when I head out to my truck.

I should tell Nash.

He’ll want to know, at the very least so he doesn’t lose his shit again. After I rolled up with a stranger in the driver’s seat, and a few new holes I didn’t have when I left, he made me promise that no matter how mad we were at each other, I let him know when I’m leaving, and turn on tracking in case I need them.

Before I realize it, I’m pulling into our driveway, a mix of unease and excitement running through me at the idea of seeing any of my mates right now. I put my truck in park and stare at the back of my house, hesitant about entering for the first time since we finished building it.

I take a deep breath and bail out before making my way inside with every intention of being the alpha I promised my alpha I would try to be but stop short when I see the spare room door is open.

Slowly walking toward what has become Indy’s room, I feel the tension start to build in my shoulders and neck, my stomach twisting when I hear laughter, flipping over any number of things I could possibly walk in on. But nothing prepared me for what I actually see.

Nothing.

I don’t see anything, or anyone.

The bed is perfectly made, the room is spotless, there isn’t shit going on.

I know what I heard, though.

I heard Indy laugh, I heard my beta laugh, too, but I don’t see them anywhere.

Which is the exact second I feel my stomach drop, and my hackles raise.

They’re in her nest .

My eyes dart toward the closet door, trying like hell to see through the goddamn wood but I don’t really need to. Their voices aren’t low, they aren’t trying to be secretive or some shit. I can hear every fucking thing going on in there, and I have never been so fucking split down the middle before.

A part of me, the part I keep ignoring and telling to fuck off, it’s almost… Excited? Proud? Satisfied, maybe? All because my scent match is getting along so well with my mates, that the three of them are building their own bonds that I can actually feel, and that means ours will only strengthen that, and our mate bites will?—

I shake my head and nearly growl as I hear something thump behind the door.

The rest of me is fucking pissed because it should be me.

I should be there with them, invited into her space, bathing in her scent, spending time with my pack the way it was meant to be, but I won’t allow it.

My dumbass refuses to allow myself that bit of happiness, that small slice of peace and comfort. I will not let my guard down, won’t let her in, and instead choose to continue hurting the only three people I’m damn near positive I can’t live without.

But I won’t do it.

It isn’t worth it.

Not when the loss is even more crippling than never having it at all would have been.

Being an omega in Obsidian Falls is like sitting on death row, and when you’re packed up, you end up planted in the electric chair before the mate bites are healed.

I’m depriving myself of the one thing that could truly make me happy, all because I know what kind of destruction it brings, and what kind of wound is left afterward.

A wound that never heals, and bleeds until your veins run dry.

And that is not fucking worth it.

I’m not going to bury another omega.

I’m not about to become Carlisle.

I won’t do that to Nash or Clayton, I won’t do that to my family.

I won’t do that to Indy .

I can’t.

With a growl, I spin away from the closet and blow out of the bedroom, punching my way through the back door then jump in my truck and burn rubber.

There is way too much at risk if I give in to fate, and if avoiding it means I’m miserable and reckless until something terrible happens, so be it.

It’s for the best, and one day, everyone will see it.