Page 57 of Generation Omega: Revealed
“I’m sorry… I’m okay—we’reokay. I just want you to know that as long as you’re okay, I’m good. I might be a little whiny that you appear to be having themovie staralpha experience, while I’m locked in a serial killer’s torture chamber, but I think I have the right to be snarky about that.”
“You do—you totally do.”
“I’ve got to go… I’m so tired. Tillie, promise me, you won’t hold back. You will embrace every new omega experience, no matter how odd and smutty things get. I love you—nothing is going to change that. And I look forward to meeting your inner omega. I bet she’s sassy.”
“So far, mostly slutty with a side of feral,” I mutter.
“Slutty and feral—can’t wait to meet her. Now, go find your alpha. I’ll call soon, and don’t worry about me.”
“Right, sure… why would I worry? You’re just a prisoner of my killer alpha.”
“He stitched up my shoulder and I’m currently not dead, so…”
“That’s a low bar right there.”
Ethan laughs and I know it hurts. “Gotta start somewhere. You tell Gideon that if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it’s him. I guess it’s sometimes okay to meet your heroes. Okay, I’m going… love you.”
He’s gone and my soul breaks into so many jagged shards that all I can do is hide under the cover and cry my eyes out. But I’m not left alone in my misery because I have an alpha who knows what I need as soon as I need it. He pulls me into his arms and rocks me. His warmth, scent, and purr all work together to overwhelm my sorrow and deliver me to a magical land where I’m safe and cherished, and grief is a breeze blowing through my hair instead of a tornado.
Maybe the omegaverse is magical after all.
“Oh, crap,” Gideon shouts, and stands with me in his arms, grabbing my shirt off the chair and rushing out of the room.
“What?”
He’s laughing, so I know things aren’t dire yet. “You’ll see orsmellif we don’t get there in time.”
CHAPTER28
TILLIE
What I smell when we reach the kitchen is grilled cheese, not burnt cheese, so that crisis was averted in time. One down, a million to go.
Once Gideon sets me on my feet, I take the shirt from him and don it while he flips our sandwiches in the skillet. He grabs black plates from the cupboard and I climb onto the nearest barstool, watching him gather place mats and utensils. He sets them in front of me and the empty chair beside me.
“Pickles?”
“Yes, please.” My voice is a whisper defined by sorrow. Gideon knows, but he continues to prepare what he clearly decided was lunch.
I glance around the spacious interior with its high ceiling and merged living room and dining room. Daylight peeks at me from around the curtains that conceal either large windows or maybe even doors to a balcony. Even though I have no real sense of time, I think lunch is the correct choice. Besides, my breakfast yesterday was hard to beat and only brings me back to everything wrong with this moment, the missing member of my life who’s alone and hurting.
Gideon places the full plates on both place mats and sets a napkin beside each, before walking around the counter and sitting beside me. The decadent smell of melting cheese is compelling, but I don’t move. I don’t know if I caught Ethan’s exhaustion, but I suddenly can’t be bothered to eat, even though I’m hungry.
“Day two, Tillie,” Gideon says gently. “It’s just day two, and we’re here and we’re safe. Ethan’s alive, and we’ll learn more about your other alphas soon and get Ethan back to you.” He pauses, searching for some response, but I’m blank. “Everything is uncertain right now, and I get it, how uncomfortable this is. But one thing is certain—you need to eat. We don’t know how long we can stay here, and when we have to run, nothing will be guaranteed.”
His tone remains soft, but his intensity increases. “I’m feeling fairlyalphaabout this and am willing to bark if I need to, but I’d rather you just eat the lunch I made you. If you want something else…”
“No, this is good. It smells wonderful. I actually wouldn’t mind a cheesy-scented alpha, though your scent is…” My mouth waters at the thought, though his scent is barely noticeable right now. Maybe our scents have a mute setting when it’s time to eat. It makes sense and, if true, dining will be a lot less confusing for my taste buds. Salted caramel grilled cheese isn’t a thing for a reason.
While eyeing my plate in a commanding way, he teases, “So, my scent—are you going to share?”
“You really don’t know?”
“Nope. You still can’t smell yours, right?”
I shake my head and finally take a bite of the amazingly decadent sandwich, the cheese melting in my mouth.
Gideon’s approval warms my insides. “I guess it makes sense, if you think about it. My scent isn’t for me—it’s for you. I’m suddenly wondering whether fragrantly blooming flowers know their own scent, when it’s for the bees and the birds, not just because the flowers like to smell pretty.”
