Chapter Six

Sitting at a dinner table felt strange. Dylan had grown accustomed to eating on the couch with the TV on. The noise made his apartment feel less empty, and it did well to cover all his negative thoughts.

Instead, they all sat at a table together, like some twisted family. The omega, her offspring from another alpha, Sam, the love-struck idiot, Mason, the eternal optimist, and Dylan.

Tracy had cooked, and the moment the scent of sautéing onions and peppers had hit his nose, he’d known it would be good. The first bite of chili confirmed it.

She’d avoided them most of the day, staying out of sight after the shower she’d helped Sam with.

And doesn’t Sam look relaxed? Clearly, she isn’t the wilting flower she pretends to be. Typical omega, playing a part.

The kid had been dropped off later, in the early afternoon. Dylan had stayed out of the way when an omega and three alphas had shown up, the omega going into Tracy’s room to visit while the alphas had headed into Sam’s.

It reminded Dylan again how long he’d been gone. Sam had developed new friendships, a new life in the absence of he and Mason.

Whatever. I made a new life, too.

An empty life, that consisted of more work and alcohol than was healthy.

“This is delicious,” Mason said.

Tracy cast a tentative look his way, the start of pleasure growing across her cheeks. So, she enjoyed praise, huh?

Dylan filed that away, like he did everything else. He wasn’t as talkative as the other two, but he saw everything, heard everything. He kept note of each weakness he saw, each detail that could get him closer to whatever he wanted.

He wanted the omega.

Not forever, not for real. He wasn’t a sappy fool like Mason and Sam, content to be led around by the dick by some omega. However, he wasn’t dead, either, and the scent of an omega would draw in any alpha with a working nose and a cock. The idea of taking a taste of her, of pissing off Sam, of getting to prove again he was right, those things sounded pretty fucking good to him.

The past that had caused the divide between them bit at him like it always did. He saw Nora’s face, her lying smile that he’d believed no matter what. He remembered walking in to find Sam and her in bed, the lance of pain as he’d realized one of his best friends had slept with the women—the omega—he loved.

Loved? Maybe. It’s not like I have a lot of experience.

Now that Sam had someone he was smitten with, Dylan saw no reason to let the slight pass. He’d sweet talk the omega, tempt her into bed and show Sam how it felt.

Maybe he should feel guilty for using her like that, but hell, from what he’d seen, omegas hadn’t exactly been pillars of model behavior.

She’d only end up betraying Sam in the end, and the sooner he realized it, the better.

Besides, Dylan wouldn’t force her. Tracy would fall for him because, in the end, that was what omegas did. He wouldn’t promise her anything, wouldn’t lie to her, and he’d make sure he showed her a hell of a good time.

And Sam would realize that omegas weren’t worth the trouble they caused.

Hell, maybe it would take some of the piss out of the friendship. Maybe they’d be able to put the Nora situation behind them once they were even.

A part of Dylan he didn’t like to acknowledge wanted that. While he liked to play the ‘I don’t need anyone’ part, shit was always more complicated than that. He’d missed Sam and Mason, missed having them around, missed the grounding effect the two had on him. He was negative, and he was short-tempered, and they’d never failed to pull him back to level ground.

Too bad omegas ruined everything.

It had started with his mother, who had only been too happy to run off and leave him with his piece-of-shit stepfather, had continued to Nora and now this newest one—Tracy—seemed poised to keep that shit going. Some things never changed.

Later, after the food was finished, when they’d filled the meal with idle chatter—mostly from Karen—Tracy nodded toward the other room. “Why don’t you get an ice cream and watch something in the living room?”

Karen took her empty bowl into the kitchen and set it beside the sink before getting into the freezer. She found the ice-cream cones easily, as if she’d gotten used to where Sam kept them.

Then again, Sam was a man of routine. Even after five years, Dylan knew they’d be on the bottom shelf in the freezer, near the back, behind the frozen burger patties.

When the girl left the room, some of the ease went with her.

“She’s a good kid,” Mason said.

Tracy nodded, her gaze on her empty bowl instead of any of them. It was as though without her daughter, she just melted into a puddle, like keeping an eye on Karen was all that gave her spirit.

“Should she really be in the middle of this?”

And there it went. She shot Mason a look that had enough bite to take an inch or two off his dick. “My daughter isn’t going anywhere.”

See? The whole scared-omega thing is bullshit, just a part she plays to get what she wants.

Sam responded, probably smart since he already had something going on with the woman. “She doesn’t need to go right now, honey, but it’s worth thinking about. This situation could get ugly, and I know you don’t want Karen in the middle of it.”

Tracy’s eyes softened, but she didn’t seem ready to give in. “You promised you’d keep her safe. I haven’t run, because you promised. If you can’t do that, if you don’t want to, just tell me. I’ll take her and skip town.”

Yep, omegas were always ready to cause problems and run. She’d gotten Sam hurt, fucked up Mason and Dylan’s schedules and now she’d take off and leave that shit on their doorsteps to deal with. Typical.

“I know I promised that, and that’s what I’m planning to do. I’m a realist, though, and she’d be safest with Claire or Tiffany. No one will force you to do anything, but just think about it. She doesn’t really need to be around any of this, does she?”

Tracy dropped her gaze from the intense stare, her body seeming to shrink before their eyes—it wasn’t like she was big to start with—and all that spirt drained from her. Or had she hidden it? Hard to know with omegas.

When Tracy seemed to have ended the conversation, Sam rose from the table, movements slow. A pang of guilt streaked through Dylan. No matter how much he and Sam weren’t getting along, he’d never want the other alpha hurt. That was like breaking one of his own bones.

“I’ve got to check in with the station.” Tracy’s panicked expression had Sam setting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine. Why don’t you stay put and relax?” He leaned down and whispered more into her ear.

Dylan couldn’t hear it, but he could guess what he’d said. The omega was high-maintenance and required a hell of a lot of handholding and reassurances, it seemed.

How exhausting.

Whatever Sam said worked, because she stayed put as he limped into the kitchen, asked who wanted ice cream and tossed one to Mason. Dylan and Tracy had declined.

Mason spoke up as he tore open the wrapper on the ice-cream cone. “You’re a hell of a cook. Can’t recall the last time I ate that good.”

“Thank you,” she said, voice soft, eyes wary. So, she liked praise, but without Sam, she didn’t accept it so easily.

That fear in her eyes pricked at him. He told himself it was annoyance. She had no reason to be afraid of him, or Mason or Sam. It pissed him off that she looked at him with those big, nervous eyes like some doe in front of a hunter.

That was the easy thing to think. Under that, he knew damned well it pricked at him because he didn’t want her afraid. The fear of a female, of an omega especially, didn’t fail to set him on edge. He wanted to coax a smile from her, to soothe those fears.

No. Don’t let her play you like that. Instincts were shit, and he refused to let them control him.

Dylan took a sip of the coffee before him, never a man for sweets.

Mason looked over his shoulder in the direction Sam had gone. He rose, then nodded that way. “I’m going to go check in. You two play nicely.” He turned a hard look on Dylan, pointing a finger at him. “Mostly, I mean you.”

Once alone, Dylan looked over at Tracy, then lifted his warm cup of coffee to his lips, ensuring his face showed just how not impressed he was with her. She might be an omega, and she might be pretty as fuck, but she wasn’t anything a million other omegas couldn’t be.

She hadn’t had any of the dessert Mason had offered up, which had him frowning. “Why didn’t you have any ice cream?”

She flinched at his voice, an almost invisible twitch of her shoulders. “I can’t care for desserts.”

Dylan’s lips tipped down. Females of any sort were a mystery to him, and he tended to blunder right past good sense when it came to dealing with them. Maybe it came from having a shitty stepfather and no mom he could remember, but he’d never known how to talk to women without pissing them off. “Why not? Afraid of the calories? Because if anything, you could use putting on a few pounds.”

Tracy straightened her back, and a whole lot of nothing washed across her features. They were carefully blanked, and it made Dylan lifted his lip in an almost-there snarl. She was hiding.

He hated that. Hiding was the first trick of omega deceit.

Before he could say a word about it, she rose to her feet. The movement was graceful, careful, soundless. She took her dishes, then spoke without meeting his gaze. “I should start on the kitchen.”

Dylan watched her leave, her steps so soft she moved like a ghost through the room. Before she passed the corner, she reached back and pulled down the hem of her already huge sweater, tugging it down even farther past the curve of her ass, as if embarrassed.

Dylan released a soft growl at the ache in his chest when he realized he’d hurt her.

No matter how much he told himself he didn’t care, that ache didn’t stop.

I don’t care, damn it.

But, fuck it, he did care.

* * * *

Mason sat outside on the deck, the cool breeze on his back. He’d worn only his sweatpants—even his feet were bare.

He’d never liked clothing. It was one of the few perks of his job. Working in construction meant no one batted an eyelid when men decided it was just too damned hot to work in the Arizona sun with a shirt on. Nothing felt better than the sun on his skin, than that strange sense of freedom. Even now, back in his home state of California, he couldn’t shake the habit.

Hell, he’d probably have forgone clothing entirely if it wasn’t for the timid omega who he was currently sharing living space with. Well, that and the kid. He knew his days of nudity would end once he had young of his own.

And, if he were honest, he’d sat out there for the past hour hoping she’d be tempted to visit.

He’d made it clear he didn’t sleep well, that he was often up late. It seemed she was as well. He’d thought she might take the hint and come talk. Maybe it was a useless hope, and maybe he shouldn’t have been talking to her, but Mason tended to go with his gut. His gut was that the omega was pretty and sweet and he wanted to know more.

As the moon crawled higher in the sky, and as the minutes ticked by, he started to doubt she’d show.

At least, he did until the grumble of the sliding glass door announced his visitor.

Tracy came out, two cups in her hand.

“Little late for coffee, don’t you think?”

Her smile was soft, unsure, but she still stretched out to hand him a warm glass. “It’s tea. No caffeine.”

He inhaled the tendrils of heat. Mint. Chamomile. Lavender. Soft, sweet, calm, that was just like her, wasn’t it? “Thanks.”

Tracy held her own mug and took a seat on the chair perpendicular to him. Not quite right beside him, but much closer than she’d been the night before.

That was something, right?

“So, how bad was Dylan while we were gone?”

A spark of something unhappy simmered behind her eyes, but she pushed it away. “He was fine.”

If that ain’t a lie, I don’t know what is. Why’s she lying?

Then it hit him.

“Dylan won’t do shit to you, kitten. If he, or any of us, hurt you or piss you off, you just speak up.”

She didn’t respond, but her leg bounced as though she could rid herself of the nervous energy that way.

Mason pushed again, gentling his voice. “I get it, I do. You don’t know us, and you don’t trust us, but I can tell you that we won’t go off on you just because you tell us you didn’t like something we did.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then sipped the tea. Was she collecting her thoughts?

He expected her to talk about Dylan.

Instead, when she set her cup on her knees, she sighed. “Richard didn’t appreciate criticism.”

Richard. Sam had growled that name out. The asshole had terrorized her for years, and he could see the scars clear as day when she crept through a room, afraid of drawing attention.

Mason tried to stay loose, relaxed, to not show any reaction. “We ain’t Richard. I can’t say you’ll always get what you want from us, but we won’t ever be mad that you told us the truth.” He laughed, a rough sound in the dim light. “Hell, with the way you smile? You’ll probably get what you want, too.”

Ah, there is was, that smile. She offered it like a prize, tentative and unsure and fucking brilliant. “What happened between the three of you?”

“Ugly history, that’s it.”

“Sam doesn’t seem like the type to hold grudges for just anything. I want to understand what happened.”

Mason rubbed his fingers over his chin, then through his beard. He wasn’t all for sharing the nitty-gritty details, but hell, she deserved some understanding, didn’t she? Especially if anything went anywhere, she should have an idea of how shit had gone bad. “Oldest story there is, kitten. We were best friends from childhood, grew up together, did everything together. Hell, before it all went to shit, we lived right here in this house together.”

She twisted, gaze on the slider, eyebrows inching toward one another. Could she see it? The way they’d fit there, the sense of family?

She turned back toward him and nodded. “I guess that explains why the house has so many rooms.”

“Exactly. Well, that didn’t last. There are some specifics that aren’t my place to share, but basically? A woman happened. Three of us fell for same omega.”

Her gaze dropped and he let the words percolate, let her mull them over. Would she panic at the idea of being in a similar situation? Would she like that idea?

Her voice was steady when she responded. “So, you shared her?”

Mason recalled the three alphas who had brought her daughter over, the ones who walked around their single omega as if she made up their entire world. Seemed Tracy had some experience with the idea of that sort of relationship. Least she didn’t run off screaming.

“Not exactly. It was more like we figured we could ignore one another enough to make it work. It didn’t, though, and she wasn’t really in it for all of us anyway. I think she went from one to another to see what she could get, and she enjoyed the attention, the jealousy.” Mason tried to shrug off the frustration the memory created in him.

They could have had something great, but she’d never wanted it, not really. He still remembered the way she’d press her lips to his ear and whisper about something Sam had said, because she liked that flash of anger. She liked to stoke the drama.

Though, hell, had they been ready for that shit either? They’d gone into it as the only chance to fix the fracture made by Sam’s actions, not as something they all wanted. They’d been jealous assholes, and she’d enjoyed every second of fanning those flames. Nothing but idiots yanking one another in every direction.

He guessed he could understand why Dylan and Sam might be hesitant to think about that. Hadn’t turned out so well for them, had it?

Still, staring at Tracy, at the way the moonlight lit up those sweet little freckles on her cheeks, he had to wonder if maybe the issue the entire time hadn’t been the wrong girl.

Would this omega fit better? Could he see that sort of family working this time?

Could she be the piece that fit them back together?

Something brushed his knee, and he peered down to find her fingers hesitating in the air.

“I asked how long ago that was.”

Mason shook off the strange way his heart sped at the touch. He wasn’t fifteen anymore, when his heart did that stupid racing thing every time a pretty girl smiled at him. “Five years. Thing is, there’s a reason Sam never took our names off his list. I don’t care what he says about being busy, don’t care what we fight about, we’re family. He left our names on those forms because he knew damned well we’d come. Didn’t matter what happened, if any of us called, the other two would drop everything to show up. It’ll be like that until we’re six feet under.”

“That seems nice, having someone always there.”

“Heard Sam talk about your mom, so you aren’t totally alone, right?”

She brought her legs up to cross on the chair, the position possible only because of how damned small she was. “I love my mom, but I couldn’t see her much, not after Richard.”

“Yeah, bet she wouldn’t have been too happy about what that bastard did.”

“Nope. She hadn’t wanted me to get mated, but I was determined and young and at the start, Richard hadn’t seemed so bad.”

“How old were you?”

“Met him at fifteen.”

“Did he know you were an omega?”

She shifted in the chair as if the conversation were unpleasant. It wasn’t hiding, but rather seemed she didn’t like the memories. “Yeah. I was an early bloomer and went into a heat at fourteen. They put me on suppressants to help with any risks until I got older.”

“Fifteen?” Mason whistled low at the young age. Fifteen-year-olds should be out breaking hearts, not settling down with alphas. “How old was he?”

“Thirty-five. By the end of my sophomore year, I’d dropped out of school, and as soon as I turned eighteen, we got married. I thought having a guy that age interested in me showed just how mature I was.” Her shoulders rose in an ‘it doesn’t matter’ gestured that seemed far too dismissive of how wrong the entire situation had been. Still, she pushed forward. “Karen came a few years later, an accident. I’d tried to take birth control, but it doesn’t work well for omegas. The last thing I wanted was to risk bringing a child into that mess. Richard was thrilled—he’d always wanted kids. And—don’t get me wrong—I love her. I’m not sorry I had her. I’m just sorry I had her the way I did. She shouldn’t have been in the middle of any of that.”

Mason risked the question he knew he had no right to ask, the one that had plagued him since seeing her. “What finally made you leave?”

Tracy lifted her gaze to his, and he saw a spark of fire there. Seemed Richard and the world hadn’t totally doused it. “I was putting on makeup to cover a black eye and Karen walked in. I remembered being seven and watching my mom put eyeliner on, how I learned it from her, and I realized Karen was learning from me. I thought about her future, about what lessons I was teaching her, about the life she was going to go out and find. For the first time, I knew I had to show her better, show her that what I was doing wasn’t the life she should accept. Even if it killed me, I was going to give her a good role model.” Tracy’s gaze dropped to her hands, to where she spread them wide, then closed them. After a long sigh, she seemed to curl into herself. “Some role model, huh?”

Mason shook his head and leaned forward, chancing the risk to take her small hands in his, to capture her gaze with the motion. “You risked a lot, Tracy. You taught her freedom doesn’t have a cost that ain’t worth paying. At the end of the day, you did everything you could to give that girl a good life, and I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I’ve seen her spark and her bite and her sweetness. You’ve done pretty well by her, I’d say.”

Tracy froze, going still enough to impress one of those living statues.

Would she run? Would she yank away? Hell, he wouldn’t blame her for either.

“You want me to let you go?” He asked the question softly, without inflection.

Instead of answering, she closed the distance, leaning forward and brushing her soft, warm lips to his. The touch was so gentle it almost tickled.

Mint clung to her kiss, deceptively sweet at first, just like her, but stronger than it seemed. It left a tingle on his lips as he remained still, as he let her have the kiss at whatever speed she wanted.

He’d let her have anything. She could have done whatever she wanted right then, and he’d have let her with a smile. The tentative kisses were a drug he’d not been prepared for. They weren’t meant to be passionate. Instead, they were almost like a thank you, but that didn’t stop his body from getting all its own ideas. His cock hardened, pressing against his sweatpants and making him regret not having wrangled himself into something a little less obvious. He’d be sporting a hell of a tent when he stood up, and he doubted she’d be all that happy about it.

And, after Sam and Dylan, maybe he should have been guilty. It was clear Sam was head over heels for her, but Mason just didn’t care. The more he sat and talked to her, the more he saw her between the three of them, the surer he was that something simmered between all of them, something that could be what they needed if they got out of their own ways.

Something he wanted to set ablaze and burn with.

The kiss deepened, and the blossoming of her scent, the way it grew and caught on the breeze, made his balls ache with desire. The knot at the base of his cock stung with want to fill her, as if her scent alone called it to action. How she affected him so quickly, he didn’t know. Sure, alphas could get a whiff of something and spring an erection for no damned reason, but this was different. This had an intensity, a need that his normal ‘hey, I’m here, anything for us to fuck’ erections lacked.

Not happening tonight, buddy. Settle down.

Tracy placed her hands on his knees as she leaned closer, using the position so she touched him nowhere but their kiss and where she braced herself. Her soft, hot tongue burned a path across his lips, and he risked returning the kiss. He parted, his own tongue skimming hers, his first taste of her.

Divine.

As quickly as it happened, she pulled back. She wasn’t frightened…but unnerved? Definitely.

Is it the kiss? Too fast?

The shame clued him in. Ah, she didn’t think she should be kissing him, not with whatever was going on with Sam.

He could have reassured her, could have told her it wasn’t so uncommon, but it wouldn’t help. She needed to trust him before she’d believe shit he had to say. Instead, he caressed her wrist with his thumb, with the hands still loosely around hers. “That was nice.”

The way her teeth pressed into her full bottom lip made him groan as she tugged away from his hold. What else could those lips do? “I should get some sleep.”

“Sure, kitten. Goodnight.”

When she left, and he found himself sitting alone with her scent still strong and the taste of her toothpaste and tea still on his tongue, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Coming back had for sure been the right choice.