Page 22 of Generation Omega: Claimed
Ethan beams like using one word earns me an automatic gold star. Then he takes hold of my hand and leads me toward the back of the room, into a good-sized bathroom, with two sinks, a toilet, and a shower made for two.
While Ethan turns on the water and checks its temperature, I make the mistake of turning and staring at myself in the mirror.
“Oh…”
At the sound of devastation in my voice, Ethan’s right there, blocking my view. “Nope, not doing that. You only get to see yourself after a shower—pack guardian rules.”
Ethan encourages me under the warm rain-like flow of water coming from the ceiling. With his arms steadying me, I close my eyes, trying to erase the memory of my reflection. I don’t know that woman or what she’s been through, but I also don’t know whether I want to know. Do I want to ask questions? Do I want to know what my omega did or what was done to her?
She bit an alpha—she wasn’t supposed to, but she did. She loves him like I love Ethan. She protected Ethan, and I will protect her alpha.
I swallow roughly. “My omega protected you? That’s what she told me. It’s true?” Words are coming easier now, though they still don’t sound right.
Ethan ensures my balance is solid before starting his work with the assassin’s rainbow loofah. “She and Kaz worked together on that—Gideon and Mr. Kilt did too—but she definitely fought to stay present enough to ensure my safety, and so did you.”
I jerk back. “What? Me? I wasgone.”
He’s on his knees in front of me, his expression quirky when he pauses his loofah mission to meet my gaze. “Nope, you were fiercely holding on to make sure I was okay. OnceKazconvinced you that I was safe and so were you, then everything went the way it was supposed to. Until then, it was…” Ethan considers as he runs the foamy loofah over my calf. “I’m not sure how to describe it, maybe just more erratic and stressful. Clearly, if the omega isn’t in the zone, nobody in the nest can be, which makes sense if you think about it.”
I run my fingers through his short hair and then down his cheeks to his jaw that’s covered with scruff. Ethan hates having facial hair, no beards, goatees, nothing. Seeing him with several days of unshaved scruff causes the ache in me to worsen. “How long was I gone?”
Ethan only then realizes what I’m reacting to and grips the offending beard in progress. “Sorry—I’ll deal with it and, in the future, make sure you never see it. It’s a reminder, isn’t it?” He nods, answering his own question. “Five days.”
“Five days I’ll never get back.” I know I’m being whiny and hypocritical. It’s not like I wasMs. Seize the Daybefore this. I once lost five days—possibly ten—bingeing a reality TV show that I hated every single second of and myself for never turning that shit off and doing something else with my time.
Ethan continues rubbing that amazing loofah over every inch of me, the sensations working to reacquaint me with my body. In an almost reverent tone, he says, “Those five days built the foundation of our pack. They were important, as hard as that is to understand when you weren’t really there.”
This pack would never have formed without Ethan. I knew that before, but this moment is the cold, hard proof that I was right. If any of my alphas said exactly what Ethan just did, I would have gone feral and searched for something to jab them with, preferably many times. But it’s Ethan who knows me and loves me and can say pretty much anything he wants. We’re long past—in just a week—all doubts about whether we fit together and how.
Ethan also knows how to emit his positivity like he’s a bubble machine, sending shiny orbs all around me that are too adorable to squash. He also expects nothing from me—his pep talks aren’t lectures or demands for instant agreement. Bubble machines are the benign, stealth mode of motivational manipulation. Youget distracted by the bubbles and just start feeling better about everything, even when they pop on your nose.
So, what’s my problem? It’s time to be specific, not just a sulky, broody pants. I immediately bump into the answer, and it’s legit. My body doesn’t currently feel like my body. But maybe that’s just the re-entry thing, though re-entry as an astronaut is really glorifying a situation that doesn’t feel all that glorious.
“Returning after an alien abduction.”
Even with no context, Ethan gets it, blurting a beautiful laugh. “Not an astronaut?”
I shake my head. “Definitely alien abduction.” I release an unsteady breath and push myself to continue. “Astronauts don’t usually experiencemissing time, but I have no idea what happened for five days. I literally could have been taken to the mothership and forced to compete in beauty pageants for five days.” It’s so true it hurts. “And astronauts typically land, not crash, and this feels more like being tossed out of an alien ship. Also, astronauts don’t normally get probed—unless you read alien romances—and I’m feeling prettyprobedin ways I don’t remember.”
Ethan looks at my feet so quickly that I’m dragging his face back up to study his guilty blush. “Sorry, Till.”
“Why areyoublushing? Did youprobeme? Did they let you be with me? It wasn’t gross or disgusting the way they used me… or my omega?”
“Gross?!” He’s gaping epically at me.
“Yeah, was it?” I’m feeling less gross the cleaner I get, but I don’t want to be gross. “Was itnasty?”
His blush invites some friends over to party, leading to the redness reaching all the way to his ears. I’ve never seen anything affect him like this. “Not gross at all… definitely not nasty, thoughnastyin just the right ways.” He’s breathy and uncomfortable about it.
I’m pleading in my soul, but I can’t say the words—I can’t ask for details.
Ethan’s shoulders release their tension, and he looks at me like I’m everything that matters. “Till, I don’t know what you want to hear. You need to feel anything you need to feel about all of this, but I’m going to tell you the truth.” The intensity in his eyes changes, as he remembers every moment that I don’t. “At first, I struggled because you weren’t you—you were your omega. I didn’t think I belonged in that nest, but I came to understand that I belong there as much as everyone else. I may be a beta and lacking in knotty equipment and alpha stamina—though Kaz dosed me with some of his and that was quite a ride—but you’re mine, before you belonged to the omegaverse.”
Still on his knees, Ethan takes my hand in his, intertwining his fingers with mine. “Your omega wanted me there, wanted to prove she supported you. When anyone got feisty and tried to bite you, they got muzzled. Your feral alphas protected you every second. I protected you. Kaz protected you.” Pride surges about his alpha, worn openly now.
Ethan pauses, some idea sprouting in him. “Just before you came out of this, I was upstairs eating, and I was still at a loss for the true purpose of the heat, other than the obvious. But I actually think I’m starting to work it out. Our minds are incredible—of course, they are—but there is power in our bodies that’s been totally neglected in the normal world. We don’t have cool instincts. We won’t head to high ground, like an elephant, when a tsunami’s been triggered miles away. We can’t sniff the air and sense danger.”
His boyish eyes sparkle, the man loves his superheroes. “Anyway, I thought the heat was strictly about pack formation, but…” He rubs his fingertips gently over my hip. “… I think it was about putting all of you back into your bodies and reconnecting,or even empowering, your primal instincts. I’m now curious about the next heat, whether it’s anything like this one.”
