CHAPTER 4
DYLAN
Killian was right.
Brock and I both scent her before they walk in the door, and I look at him from across the kitchen. His complexion pales, his eyes even more downcast than before, and he looks like he might vomit.
It would be comical any other time, but the guilt that etches itself on his face stops me from saying anything asshole-y.
“Fuck,” he groans, running his hand through his messy brown hair. “Fuck.”
He looks like he might pull the strands out, his mouth a hard, thin line of pain.
“Looks like I owe Killian a hundred bucks,” I mutter. “He was right.”
“She’s not staying here,” Brock barks, looking at me with contempt. “This isn’t happening. She isn’t—”
But his words die as a metallic scent mixes with sweetness, and I wrinkle my nose at the sudden jumbled aroma.
“She’s injured,” I say, before taking strides to the front door, Brock behind me.
Omega is hurt!
Protect Omega!
Fuck, this was a mistake.
What was Killian thinking, bringing an Omega here like this?
The door opens, and he enters, carrying the girl in his arms.
And time…
It stops.
I stare at her, and it takes everything within me to notgrabher, yank her away from Killian, and run away with her.
Her eyes are wide and confused, rich blue blinking around rapidly, as her gaze falls to both Brock and me. She’s dressed in black baggy clothes, with wild auburn hair framing her delicate face.
She’s beautiful, but her skin is a shade too pale and the frame of her body a few pounds too small. Her heart-shaped face is covered in grime, and her right foot hangs awkwardly, dark red splotches around her ankle.
I take a step closer, a rush of vanilla and blossoms washing over me. It’s been ages since I’ve smelled an Omega, but nothing compares toher.
I’m so screwed.
When she meets my gaze, she burrows into Killian’s chest, clutching at his neck in fear, as her saucer-wide eyes stare at me.
Jealousy surges through me.
She feels safe aroundhim?
What the fuck.
Killian must sense my jealousy, because he smirks and cocks an eyebrow at me, as if challenging me to say anything.
But I hold my tongue. There’s no point in scaring her more over a shouting match.
Brock, however, just doesn’t care.