Page 29 of Omega Scorned

"How about some conversation, then," I suggested. "We'll stay out here so our scents don't mix and we'll go over the fence after. If we are seen, we were just getting Gertie out of your yard."

Emilia smiled faintly. "Okay." She climbed up and sat in the window, bare feet dangling. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Who did those paintings in your room?"

"I did." She smiled and glanced back. "It keeps me busy when I'm not needed."

The words made my chest hurt. "They're awesome. You should do that professionally!"

"Omega, remember?" She shrugged. "No one would hire an omega for that."

"I'm an omega, too," I reminded her, leaning against the wall, right by her legs.

Emilia shifted a little so her leg touched my shoulder and I heard her sigh. Looking up, she had her eyes closed. This omega was dying for someone to provide physical contact, I could tell. Taking a chance, I caught her foot in my hand and started gently massaging her ankle.

"That feels good," she groaned, gazing down at me with those chocolate brown eyes. "Wow."

"He's good at massages," Grayson told her. He leaned on the other side of the window and started working on the other foot. "So, you like to paint. Do you draw, too?"

"I do. Not well, but it's fun."

"You should have things that are fun," he told her, a little too intensely.

"I do." She shrugged, but her eyes were sad.

We chatted about recent shoots Grayson and I had been on. I pulled some of the photos up on my phone and she admitted that she'd looked us up on social media.

"I used to check every day, until they took my tablet." She snapped her mouth closed at that point.

"They took your tablet?"

"They thought I was talking to you guys or that I called OPA."

"Those motherfuckers . . . " Grayson growled. "They're not treating you well. You deserve a pack that will look after you and not replace you with some stuckup bitch."

Emilia's mouth dropped open. "Candace is a bitch," she admitted. "Can you believe she thinks I should make lunch just for her every day? I mean, I eat too, but how hard is it to make a sandwich for yourself?"

"Come back with us," I begged. "You can stay with us and we'll look after you."

"Tempting." She wiggled her foot in my hand. "But then I'd be sent back to ORC and I don't want to see that place again."

"Was it bad?" I asked.

"Not for me. I was in the widows' section. They let you grieve for a while there before you are sent on. The other side, where rejected mates go, that's where the horror stories come from." She shivered. "That's where I'll go if this all goes wrong. I have to be good."

Grayson and I looked at each other, frustrated. There had to be a way out of this.

"Let's run away to Mexico," I decided. "No one will bother us there."

"You're all famous models. You think no one will notice?" She laughed and shook her head. "It's okay. It's not your job to fix my life."

"You're my scentmatch, it's absolutely my job," Grayson told her seriously.

"Scentmatch." She snorted. "I'm such an idiot."

"What?" I stared at our omega.

"I thought you all smelled so incredible, like . . . . treats I want to lick. But it never occurred to me that you're my scentmatches. No wonder we're so drawn to each other."