Good Girl by Sam Hall

Chapter 12

“Oh my god, look at you! You’ve gotten even bigger!”

A shorter woman, with a head of dark blonde curls starting to grey, exclaimed that as we walked up the driveway to a very nice suburban home. The garden obviously got a lot of work, perfect rose bushes and clipped hedges following the path up. We didn’t even get to knock on the door. It opened, and the lady who I assumed was Brendan’s mum came rushing out to the doorstep. She wrapped her arms around her massive son, struggling to get them around him and failing, but it didn’t stopping her from trying.

“Charlene, let the boy come inside, for Christ’s sake,” a masculine voice said. Not as deep, not as resonant as his son’s, the tall man filled the doorway, looking at his wife ruefully.

“Yes, of course.” Looks were flicked my way, but niceties were observed as we were ushered into the house. “I’m Charlene, and this is Bren’s dad, Simon, and you must be Cyn! We’ve heard so much about you!”

They had? I slid an inquisitive look Brendan’s way, but he just took my hand and steered me inside.

“We got so excited when we read about you—”

“Char.”

“When we heard our boy—”

“Char!”

Ooh, interesting. Simon’s bark wasn’t an alpha’s, but right now, it contained enough power to quell his wife’s enthusiastic stream of consciousness. She took a deep breath, then began a little slower.

“I’m so sorry, I’m just terribly excited. Bren’s never brought a girl home before and—”

I felt it then, that same need to calm her, to make her feel better. I stepped forward, took her hands in mine and squeezed.

“I’m glad to meet you too, Charlene.”

I could meet her eyes much more easily, catch the fight there, the desperate, desperate fight. She loved her son to distraction, that was very evident, the intensity of it almost developing a scent of its own. I rubbed my thumbs over the soft outsides of her hands, hoping whatever omega mojo I was supposed to have was working. Then I heard the long sigh come.

“Oh my goodness, she’s just like what they say. Simon, you have to feel this. It’s like taking a Valium.”

“Char, stop manhandling the girl. You wonder why Bren has never brought anyone home? Love, I’m Simon.”

I let go of his wife’s hands, feeling her reluctance, and shook his hand back firmly. No alpha fragility to worry about there.

“Cyn, and lovely to meet you.”

“Come outside then. I want to tell you the rest of the clan will be calmer, but I don’t hold out much hope. Bloody mob of chickens with their heads cut off, if you ask me. Did you want a drink, love? We’ve got champers and OJ, soft drinks, and water.”

“Ah, water would be fine, thanks,” I replied as we were led out the back door into chaos.

Like a lot of suburban backyards,there was some grass for the kids to play on, a pool they were splashing in, and a whole lot of plastic outdoor chairs arrayed across the patio, parents sitting there chatting and keeping an eye on the kids. They were the first ones to fall silent when we appeared, eyes peering over sunglasses or under hats to take us all in.

“Good to see you, Bren,” said a man that had enough of Simon in his face and build to make me guess he was Brendan’s brother. “Been awhile.”

“Cyn, this is my brother, Donal, and his wife Kelly. That’s Jeremy and Dermot…” He went through a dizzying list of names, everything he’d said about the whole clan being invited quickly confirmed.

“Well, come on then,” Charlene said, clapping her hands. “Kids, out of the pool! It’s time for some food. Now, Cyn, I read that omegas aren’t fond of very strong spices, so I made some dishes that I think might work for you.”

Is this what it’s like?I wondered, looking up and down the table, taking in the noisy, jostling pageant of love before me. I’d had little experience with this. Dad disappeared not long after I was born, and we’d never had much to do with his side of the family, his disinterest quickly having become theirs. I’d spent time with Nan when I was growing up, but Mum was an only child, a late-stage baby, so Nan joined Pa in death early on in my life. Mum didn’t do family events like this, finding the hubbub and complicated webs of alliances and grudges, memories and obligations, stifling. She was a singular creature, literally. But I found myself fascinated by the rollicking mess of Brendan’s family.

“Shush, shush you lot!” Charlene barked, and for a minute, the roar dimmed slightly. “You remember what I told you.”

“Mum…” Brendan growled.

“Don’t you growl at me, Brendan Slattery! Don’t think I don’t know what that means. Now, I told you, we need to be quieter, as if that’s possible. Omega hearing is much more sensitive than ours.”

My mouth curved into a smile without even thinking, right up until I looked up.

“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t voice your preferences, Cyn,” my therapist had said. “All this guff about omegas liking this or that. If you don’t want to, if you want to keep what you want inside you, then make that choice, but be aware that it’s just that. You have a voice. Omegas aren’t born mute, and even those that are find ways to express themselves. Tell people what you want. Their response is exactly that—theirs.”

“Um…thanks, Charlene, that’s very kind, but noise isn’t that big a deal for me, except for sometimes when I’m worked up.” I smiled, tried to show the table that I was calm, safe, reasonable. “I grew up in Oakville and went to Oakville High until I was eighteen. I’m used to normal conversations and noise to a certain degree. But thank you for your consideration. I really appreciate it.”

The silence was deafening for a bit, until one of the husbands piped up. “I went to Oakville High as well. What year were you there?”

And the noise built up again, making it near impossible to hold a conversation, so I didn’t try. I just ate the food piled up on my plate. Bland comfort food designed not to offend my omega senses, but fuck if I didn’t love it. Stodgy, salty, scrambled eggs and bacon, white toast with lashings of butter, and a big mug of milky tea, it was going to sit heavily in me all day but somehow was a million times better than the Bloody Marys and blinis served at Orion’s, which made me wonder if he ever got the chance to savour this.

Did he get invited around, along with the other guys? Did they cram their massive alpha frames into the plastic chairs as they watched the kids play? Did the dudes stand around talking about whatever secret men’s business guys did with Brendan’s brothers and dad? Like beer or footy or cars. Did Charlene get excited to see all four of them together? Like, I got that everyone here seemed pretty hetero but… I chanced a look at Brendan, his eyes finding mine immediately with that sixth alpha sense, his gaze steady before he reached across and grabbed my hand.

“Eat your eggs, omega,” he rumbled.

“You see! He’s caring for her, making sure she’s well fed.” Charlene fluttered as I scooped up a forkful of eggs and shovelled them in my mouth, feeling like I could hear every chew. The table had fallen quiet again. “It’s not all bossing omegas around and controlling their every move. The centre said a healthy alpha-omega relationship is one of trust. He proves he cares for her on every level—her health and well-being, her safety, her peace of mind. While she…she softens him, gives him the opportunity to—”

“Mum.”

Short, sharp, but not especially loud, Brendan’s command stopped Charlene in a way I didn’t think anyone else could.

“You have questions, all of you,” he continued. “I get that. But now’s not the time. I met Cyn last night. We’ve barely even had any time to spend together. You wanted to meet her and I’ve brought her around, but everyone needs to chill the fuck out or this is all you’re going to see. You’re right—we do care about omegas. We don’t want them to be overwhelmed, and I’ve just introduced her into a freaking hot house of attention, with so many strangers and noise and questions and opinions. Everyone needs to calm down, enjoy the lovely food Mum has worked hard to make, and just relax.”

I put my fork down, unable to force another bite now, my stomach starting to roil, until a heavy arm came to rest on the back of my chair, his hand curling around my shoulders.

“It’s OK, omega,” he murmured, but the low tone wasn’t any less commanding than his bark. It was the intent that mattered. “You’re doing very well.”

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been over the top again,” Charlene said

“Yes, you have, Char. We talked about this.”

“You’re right, Bren—we should just enjoy this.”

Just keep breathing, I told myself. Breathe in and out, in and out.

And when I finally looked up, once the noise had returned and the conversations had resumed, I saw that everything was as Bren had said. He leaned over the table now, elbows resting either side of his plate, talking to his dad and brothers about the footy. The wives and sisters and cousins all chattered away too, yelling out warnings to kids edging towards the pool too soon after the meal, seeing to babies that cried or toddlers that had fallen over.

“Uncle Bren said the F-word,” one child piped up.

“I know, and he’s very, very naughty. Aren’t you, Uncle Bren?” said one of the wives, their names a blur now.

“Too right, Verity,” he replied with a sniff and smile. “I’m sorry. No one should be saying that word.”

And so we held it together until after the food had been cleared away and the dishwasher stacked, all offers of help from me refused. Then the kids went back into the pool, and the conversations became slower, lazier, quieter.

“Well, I need to get back. I’ve got some stuff to sort out at the club before we open,” Brendan said.

“Thanks for coming and bringing Cyn by, love,” Charlene said, following us to the door.

“It’s been good to see you, son,” Simon added. “Maybe next time, you could bring those boys of yours with you?”

Brendan’s grip on my hand tightened to the point of almost pain as he stopped and stared down at his parents. He was so big, so functional, they looked tiny by comparison, and yet he looked down at them with a kind of desperation in his eyes I couldn’t watch for long. I moved in carefully, slowly, wrapping myself around his body, his hand going to my shoulders on automatic.

“I’ll see if they’re up for it,” Brendan replied finally, “but I appreciate you asking. Bye, Mum, Dad.”

After the last goodbyes,I was frogmarched over to the car, the door opened for me with a wrench and shut with just as much force when I got in. I pulled on the seatbelt, sensing he was about to throw the car into gear at speed. He turned the key in the ignition, hands wrapped tight around the steering wheel until his knuckles went white, before he pulled out of the park.

He didn’t scream up the road, probably because his parents were still waving from the doorstop as we drove away, but he punched the call button on the dash, the sound of a phone ringing coming through the speakers.

“How’d it go?”

That was Orion, wary but calm.

“Shit. Shit. So fucking shit.” He shot me a sidelong look, then flicked his gaze to the rear vision mirror, checking to see if there was anyone behind us as we pulled over beside a children’s park. “Mum went fucking overboard, as per usual. Like, she was trying. Fuck, was she trying.”

“OK, trying is good, Bren. It’s a fuck load more than my parents will ever do. They love you, mate.”

“I know. It’s just…”

We both waited, quiet as mice, for the words to come, but they didn’t. The tension in Brendan’s arms made every damn muscle pop, the cab of the car filling with musky sweet alpha pheromones.

“It’s done, Bren. Come to the club. Rhys is here. We’ll settle you. How did your mum respond to Cyn?”

“She loved her.” That was gasped out, like it tore something in him to say the words, and I was just left with the confusing tumble of questions as to why.

“Of course she did. Come home. Come to us.”

“I’m on my way.”

I heard the call end and the sounds of kids playing in the background, but Brendan didn’t start the car initially, just filled the cab full of rough, ragged breaths, until finally, I moved.

The dynamic between alphas and omegas was such a fucking weird one. Like, betas spent their time negotiating shit and talking, endless talking, about how they felt and what they wanted to do and why. It’d been why therapy was so fucking hard for me. I was part creature of instinct, part rational being, and the two didn’t talk real well to each other. So I didn’t entirely understand why I unclipped my seatbelt, why I moved to straddle the centre console of the car and then him. The conscious part of my brain wondered at this, if I was getting in-between the man and his mates, if I was stepping in where I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t seem to care. I settled my legs on either side of his thighs, being careful not to lean back too far and hit the horn on the steering wheel, and then I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“What are you doing, omega?” he grumbled, all invulnerable alpha again. “Why are you…?”

His voice trailed away as I plastered my body against his, just listening to the racket of his heart as I took long, slow breaths, until his started to match mine. Arms went around me, surging, clasping, holding me so fucking close, it was almost hard to breathe, his nose buried in my neck. He sucked my scent down, no doubt seeking all that soothing omega bullshit.

“I shouldn’t have put you in that situation. I thought I could control it, but…”

I laughed at that, something that stopped him short, his head pulling back so he could see me more clearly, his brows knotting.

“In my first season, a man, an alpha tried to rape me,” I replied. Fingers bit into my skin, then forced to relax. “He separated me from my chaperone and lured me into a darkened room. It smelled heavily of cigars. I can’t bear the scent of them now. They make me sick to my stomach, have me vomiting if I don’t get downwind of them. He used his alpha control over an eighteen-year-old omega to force her on her knees as he undid his belt buckle, ready to use me.”

“Omega…” His growl was a warning, but to me or my abuser, I couldn’t tell.

“George interrupted him, whisked me away, got me home and in bed before anyone was the wiser, and then he told my mother. So you see, today was no burden to me. I met some nice, caring people who love you so very much. So much so, they welcomed some bloody random omega into the house like a prodigal daughter, not because of who I am or who my mother is, but because I’m a symbol to them of your happiness. They want you to be happy, so they googled what foods to make an omega and asked you to bring your mates around. It was awkward and weird, but it will be just as weird when I go to whatever stupid bloody soiree George chooses for me tonight, but I guarantee with nowhere near the same level of love. Love.” I nodded, realising I’d held this alpha’s eyes for the whole entire conversation, the words somehow overriding whatever instincts drove me. “So don’t be sorry for today, not on my account.”

And with that said, I went to crawl off his lap and go back to my seat, and it only occurred to me now that I’d probably left my scent on the man for his mates to discover. But hands locked down around me, a low growl the only warning I got.

“I need you to stay very, very still, omega.”

All the warmth and sweetness was gone now, replaced by a throaty threat. But that was the contradiction of an omega. He’d snarled something similar, the man whose face I’d thoroughly blocked out, only the embossed design on his belt buckle something I remembered, but I felt no real fear when Brendan growled at me.

Instead, it was that delicious skittishness, making me want to both run away and run towards the source of that growl, not entirely sure what to do. So I froze, my eyes sliding sideways, catching the way the tendons stood out in his neck, the slight tremor in his shoulders. He was holding himself back by a thread, and didn’t I just want to snip it? A slow feral smile spread across his face as my scent told him exactly that.

His hand slid to my throat, easy now in the pretty blouse I’d chosen to wear, thumbing my pulse before sliding around to grip the back of my neck. The bite of his fingers into my skin had me frozen perfectly still, at his mercy. I saw the flash of his fangs, peeking past his lips, saw his tongue flick out to taste me on the air.

“If you do this,” I said in a quivery voice, “they’ll know. You’d have to be covered in my scent already. It’ll drive them mad, the ones you love.”

“I know,” he replied as he angled his face closer.

My eyes traced the lines of those full lips over and over, creating a dot to dot with the stubble around it. His kisses would hurt a little, which made me squirm, thinking about how the sharp bristles would scrape my tender skin, making it flush red. So why did I want exactly that? Part of me that I’d never been able to expose to the therapist’s cool eye was this.

I wanted to be prey for someone who was worthy of that privilege, feel them prise me open, slam through my meagre shields, and fuck me raw. And when he looked at me like this, like I was some sort of precious idol and something to be sullied, all at the same time, it made me feel like that could happen.

“I need your taste, omega…” he said in a ragged tone, pulling my head down to his. “And damn the fucking consequences.”