Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Ada

I t is morning, and the deckhands arrive to take Callum outside. He doesn't fight them anymore, like he used to at first. Now, he merely glares at them as they take him in chains from the room.

Usually, this is the time when I clean up and Gray sits me on his lap at the table and feeds me from his hands. But that is not what happens today, for he leaves me to my morning ablutions and follows soon after Callum.

The distinct sound of a key turning in the lock brings a hiss to my lips, and I storm for the door and pound upon the wood.

No one answers.

What is this about?

There was nothing in Gray's demeanor to suggest he was about to hurt Callum, but I am worried, nonetheless.

How well do I even know him? It's not like we have talked. All he does is rut me until I am too weak for thought or questions.

The heavy lamp was never returned—Gray, rightly, does not trust me—and I am glancing around for something else to batter the door when my attention is snagged by a thick rope dangling outside the window.

It sways from side to side.

Did someone drop it by mistake?

I step closer, wondering why they are dangling a rope over the side of the ship.

As I stare at the swaying rope, a pair of booted feet comes into view. Small feet… in serviceable brown boots… tucked into leather pants belonging to legs wrapped around the rope. The hips that follow have a distinctly feminine curve… a trim waist, shoulders, arms clinging, long auburn hair, and a pretty face grinning at me.

It is the lass from the markets—the one that Gray snatched.

She grasps the rope with one hand, her legs wrapped carefully around it as it sways.

Gods, is she trying to get herself killed?

She taps on the window and gestures toward me.

I dash over to it and yank it open.

"What are you doing, lass? You will fall to your death!"

"Eh, I am fine," she grumbles, humor in her voice as she swings her legs into the gap and drops into the room. Pulling the rope through the open window, she tucks it against the sill.

"I'm Lizbeth," she says, still grinning from ear to ear like she is well pleased with herself.

I dare say if I had just climbed down the side of a moving ship and snuck into a room, I might likewise be pleased with myself. "Ada," I reply.

Naked, I'm feeling a little self-conscious. Not that she appears to notice or pay my state of undress even a cursory level of interest.

Then she hugs me—near crushes me… she is a big lass compared to me.

She sets me away just as quickly. Her smile has an infectious quality and is steeped with mischief. This is the woman Gray searched for, his former promised mate, who escaped the orcs all on her own, well, with the help of Gray's younger brother, Arlo.

"Drake is with Gray up top, talking to your other mate, Callum. I decided to sneak in. Make sure you were alright. Locking a lass up is bollocks. I told Drake as much when he said I could not visit you until Gray had pulled his head out of his ass." Her grin turns to a grimace, and she lifts her pert nose. "Gray is an overbearing male." She rolls her eyes dramatically. "Drake is not much better, but at least he has a sense of humor."

My lips twitch. How did Gray not fall instantly in love with this lass?

"He really is overbearing," I agree. "And more often scowls." Although I quite like his intensity now that I think about it, and the way it makes my belly flutter when he directs it at me… my brows pinch together. "What is ‘bollocks'?"

"A multi-purpose cursing word. When a male pisses you off, well, that is bollocks. When he locks you in your cabin so he can rut you day and night, that is bollocks too."

My lips form a silence ‘O'. There has been a lot of bollocks in my short life.

"I heard he's had Callum chained up in here," she continues, her voice lowering to a conspiring whisper. "Forcing him to watch." She gives a pointed look in the direction of the bedding nook. "While he ruts you."

Heat creeps up my cheeks.

"His wolf is very dominant," she adds, not waiting for me to confirm or deny her speculation. "He will not like that Callum will likely better him."

I frown. "Callum?"

She nods. "Aye, didn't you know?"

"Know what?" I say, shaking my head slowly.

She chuckles and rubs her hands together in glee. "Oh my. Happen, Gray will get his comeuppance when he finally reveals."

"When who reveals what?" I demand to know.

Her smile drops, and she arches one delicate brow. "You really don't know?"

"Please speak plainly," I say, getting impatient.

"You're an omega," she says, grinning once again.

My mind is moving slowly at this news. She said when he reveals, but then she said I was an omega…

"Not a shifter omega, like me. There are subtle differences between humans and shifter omegas, the shifter kind being more common for a start."

"But I can't be an omega." Why do I feel like I am not getting the full story? "My father was a beta." And a mean one at that.

I swallow thickly, thinking about the soft blankets I indulged in on my bed. Nesting.

Goddess, can I be an omega?

"Human omegas are special," she continues as I struggle to accept this news. "They are coveted. Many don't even reveal unless triggered by the presence of an alpha. Gray's wolf would have recognized you straight away, even if the man was being dense about it. His scent would have acted upon you, as would that of your mate, Callum."

That is the second time she has called Callum my mate. Is that what he is? I have already acknowledged his knot and how that makes him an alpha. Alphas take mates rather than marry, now I think about it. It would seem that neither of us is what we appeared to be.

"No ordinary beta lass would take an alpha wolf rutting her," she says, knowingly. "Not without a great deal of training. Omegas are different," —she gestures toward my intimate place— "down there."

My cheeks grow very hot as I consider how I took him, all of him, and his knot. I was only a little sore. Given how monstrously huge he is there, it ought to have been a greater challenge…. "I need to sit down," I say weakly.

I take the few steps to the bed and sit-collapse on the side.

There are no damn chairs after Gray removed them. Maybe worrying that I would stand on one to reach the bolt he slots at the top of the cabin door, trying to sneak out on him in the middle of the night. Which is ridiculous when he sprawls all over me in sleep, half smothering me, with his teeth nipping against my throat. Now is not the time to think about the tingle when he does that… Nor how I often crave that I had Callum's warmth against me as well, squishing me tight and safe from the other side.

Lizbeth comes and sits beside me, puts her arm around my shoulders, and gives me a hug.

It is nice, and companionable; I feel like I have made an ally.

Her arm lowers, and her hand captures mine, giving a gentle squeeze.

A sudden thought crosses my mind. "Are you going to get into trouble for being down here?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. Arlo helped me with the rope. He will cover for me and signal if I need to go. Drake and Gray are going to be busy for a while, I expect, given that they are going to tell Callum the way things will be once we reach the pack."

Pack? My mind had not stretched to consider where we were going. I should have realized he was returning to his pack. "And how will things be?" I ask.

She glances at me and frowns. "Did Gray not tell you aught?"

When I shake my head in confusion, she only chuckles.

"Oh my, this is going to be so good. I'm guessing he was too busy rutting you to talk. Plus, his wolf would be driving him to stake a thorough claim, knowing what was coming; marking his territory, so to speak. Not that it will do him any good."

Her grin is positively gleeful.

I am still baffled.

"How the mighty Gray has fallen. In more ways than one. You will be the talk of the pack for years, nay, lifetimes, and other packs, too."

"Goodness," I mutter.

"Shifters love to gossip. And he is the pack leader's son. Now, he must share you with another male. And what a male!"

This conversation is like a riddle that I cannot hope to unravel.

"You being an omega and a human will cause ripples, and that is not even taking Callum into account."

Callum is a blacksmith's lad. He has always been more than ordinary to me, but I am struggling to imagine how he is special to a pack.

"Oh yes, Gray is due for serious adjustment," she carries out with nary a breath, oblivious to my attempt to find a gap in her words so that I can ask questions. "He is so impossibly bossy. It couldn't happen to a more deserving male."

"Lizbeth," I say sharply, lest she continue. "What exactly is coming?"

The rope outside the window suddenly dances about.

"Damn it," she says. "That's my signal! I need to go." She is already off the bed and dashing toward the window.

"You haven't told me what is coming!" I say, hastening after her.

She nimbly hops onto the window ledge and sits, hanging half out, the rope in her hands. "I'll try to sneak down and talk to you again, although it's unlikely I shall get a chance. We are only a day away from shore." She swings out, using her legs to push up from the ledge before she wraps them around the rope.

I poke my head out the window and look up after her. "But what is coming?!" I demand.

She pauses her climb to grin down at me. "Fun," she says. "Messy, glorious, life-changing fun!"

A young man peers over the deck rail above—Arlo. "Lizbeth, get your ass up here!" he hisses in a loud whisper.

"Good luck, Ada!" she says, scrambling up the rope and disappearing over the rail's top.

The rope follows before her face appears. She bestows a saucy grin upon me, then waves, and she is gone.

I snap the window shut and turn toward the door, my brows pinching together.

They have been gone a long time. Something is happening. Something I am not involved in, and yet ultimately involves me.

Change.

I do not believe it will be fun, glorious or messy, notwithstanding Lizbeth's pronouncement. Life-changing? Yes, I sense it might be. But that is not my now, and I am assuredly sick of males who think only they know what is best for me. I am determined that Gray will not keep me locked in here anymore.

My eyes skim over the room, which I've rarely been left alone in, and certainly not long enough to explore. Resolved, I march over to the first chest, lift the lid, and search for anything that might facilitate my breaking out.