Page 11 of Tawny Omega
When we moved in, deciding this would be our forever home, Rork started setting the table for dinner. Sometimes he did for breakfast, but most times, we served ourselves and sat wherever. But dinner was an affair.
“I made it. Smells great.”
Rork put the dish of piping-hot food right in the middle of the table. My mouth watered. “It’s cabbage rolls and mashed potatoes. Sit. I need to tell you guys about something.”
We dished up our food, and I took a bite. Something about working nights made me hungrier than usual, even for a shifter.
“What is it?” Flint asked.
“I was in town yesterday, picking up some things and dropping off plants at the gift shop…” He told us about that new business vein. We encouraged it. Not for the money but because our bond brother beamed when he told us about it. “And I met the new omega in town.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and Flint’s fork clanked against the edge of his plate after he dropped it.
I took a few breaths, mostly to calm my wolf. She was no ordinary omega. “You met the one with long brown hair?”
Flint flicked his gaze to me. “Is there more than one new omega in Pleasant?”
We all laughed. New people didn’t come to town often, especially new omegas. Holt and his pack had found their mate recently, and so this seemed soon for another new person but at the same time, not soon enough.
“Her name is Tawny. She’s staying with Janis above the thrift store, and she’s reopening the bookstore. Bought it from Inga.”
We let the information sink in.
“You met her—” Flint started.
“Yes. I just told you that.”
He leaned in, as hungry for details as I was. “Tell us everything.”
“I left the gift shop and went to pick up some things at the market. When I walked out, I saw her through the windows of the bookstore. They are dusty and dirty, but I could make out how she was dancing, twirling, really, and smiling.”
“You were spying on her,” I accused. Already protective of a woman who I hadn’t met whose name I’d just learned.
“She caught my eye and then honestly, I couldn’t have looked away if I wanted to.” Rork shrugged and little by little, we all began to eat again while he told us the rest. “She caught me looking and I figured I would go in and apologize rather than scamper off like a creeper.”
“You did the right thing.” Rork struggled with confidence and I knew that was big for him.
We ate for a few minutes until Flint asked the question all of us wanted to know the answer to. “Did you scent her?”
All motion stopped. Hell, even my breathing stopped. Rork scrubbed his hands down his face. “I did. Vanilla and cinnamon and sugar and even hints of molasses. She smelled…like mine.”
Flint muttered a curse and leaned back in his chair. If Tawny smelled like Rork’s, then that meant she was ours as well. Sure, we had to scent her as well but we were stable in our bond, so if Tawny was his omega, she was our omega. The one we had been waiting for.
“What do we do?”
Rork’s question mimicked the one in my head. I was the alpha of our pack, though I didn’t use the term or the power of it often. We balanced each other out and saw one another as equals.
“I think we all need to go and meet her. If she’s ours, which Rork feels like she is, then we all need to talk to her. Get to know her.”
“What if she doesn’t like us?” Flint rarely showed any signs of vulnerability but with our mate, that was one of the occasions it was called for.
“Then we respect her decision. End of story.”
Chapter Eleven
Tawny
I needed to get moving. So far, I had managed to read five books and dust off a few others, but I hadn’t gotten much beyond that point. It didn’t help that every book I picked up looked more intriguing than the one before. In my past life, books had been hard to come by. The pathetic excuse for a secondhand store in the nearby town had also been the used bookstore, its selections occupying a small shelf near the checkout counter. I didn’t mind the ragged covers or occasional dog-eared page, but many were in far worse shape than that, with actual pages torn out or stained so badly as to be unreadable. And the genres…varied widely considering the number of volumes available. On one visit to town, I’d gone through the entire selection and only found two fiction books. The rest were things like motorcycle manuals, dishwasher manuals, and other similar enticing titles. With no library nearby, we were even more limited. The small collection I’d left behind had included every book I’d ever bought at the shop—less than two dozen in total.
